A state's right to act in self-defence against 'imminent' armed attacks remains an unsettled question of international law. Yet, states persist in justifying military actions on this basis. Absent a common definition of imminence, assessing the legality of these operations is practically impossible. Although imminence is traditionally understood as referring solely to the temporal proximity of an armed attack, for some this approach is insufficient. This paper examines scholarship and examples of state practice that indicate that imminence may be viewed as comprising several contextual indicators that determine whether states may have recourse to self-defence. This conception of imminence raises fears of an expansive right of self-defence. Yet, this author concludes that such 'contextual imminence' stands as a proxy for jus ad bellum necessity. This conflation is perhaps unfortunate, but an orthodoxy regarding all forms of self-defence is thereby maintained, subject to the enduring legacy of the Caroline formula.

No international lawyer was surprised when on 25 February 2022, the day after Russia started its invasion of Ukraine, Russia vetoed a UN Security Council (UNSC) draft resolution supported by 11 UNSC members, which would have ordered Russia to "immediately cease its use of force against Ukraine" and "immediately, completely, and unconditionally withdraw all of its military forces from the territory of Ukraine." In the past, much commentary has focused on the paralysis of the UNSC due to the fact that the five Permanent Members (P5) have often used their right of veto as found in Article 27 of the UN Charter for their own (political) interests, including when coordinated UNSC action could have ended or prevented mass human rights violations or atrocity crimes. This latest use of the veto by Russia very strongly reconfirms the already-existing proclamations by the international community that the UNSC, through the use and abuse of the veto by P5 members, is failing to fulfil its main responsibility to maintain international peace and security, and more importantly, to protect (potential) victims. However, less attention has been given to the fact that the veto is often being used in specific circumstances involving jus cogens violations, and consequently to the veto's position vis-à-vis these peremptory norms that enjoy hierarchical superiority compared to all other norms and principles of international law.

Before its latest shelling of Mariupol, Russia demanded that fighters defending the city surrender, lest they face a "military tribunal." More recently, there were rumblings that Russia was preparing to send law enforcement officers, prosecutors, and court officials to Ukraine. While it is unclear where in Ukraine these officials would go, it seems that any prosecution of the Mariupol fighters would stem from their mere refusal to surrender. If carried out, Russia's threat would unlawfully deny to Ukrainian combatants two key benefits they enjoy under the law of armed conflict—combatant immunity and prisoner of war (POW) status. Moreover, Russia's actions would constitute a war crime and grave breach of the Third Geneva Convention Relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War (GC III) because it would "willfully depriv[e] a prisoner of war of the rights of fair and regular trial prescribed in this Convention." (GC III, Article 130).
In this post, the authors examine the Russian threat in the context of combatant status. They demonstrate that compliance with or defiance of Russia's surrender demand is an irrelevant consideration when determining whether an individual is entitled to that status and its accompanying privileges...

The term "fake news" has been a constant presence in the media for several years now. The deliberate spread of false information seems to have become one of the great perils of our time. Yet the issue is nothing new. In fact, all conflicts give rise to propaganda, in which fake news is mixed in with rumours, information becomes a real weapon of war and the facts seem to be entirely relative. The First World War was no exception and many historians have taken an interest in the spread of rumours about atrocities perpetrated by the enemy, brainwashing and how propaganda was received by civilians at the time.

As the Russian aggression against Ukraine continues, calls for a no-fly-zone over Ukraine have gotten louder. One of the recipients of this call is the United Nation's General Assembly (GA). In its historic resolution A/ES-11/1 of 2 March 2022, the GA declared that it would only "adjourn" the emergency special session and authorized its President to resume the meeting in order to take further measures (para. 16). Just last week, the GA convened to suspend Russia from the Human Rights Council. Against this backdrop, this post asks whether the GA could authorize UN member states to militarily intervene in the current situation by recommending the establishment of a no-fly-zone. The text of the United Nations Charter (UNCh) suggests otherwise. Yet, in the Uniting for Peace resolution of 1950 the GA assumed that it had the capacity to make such orders

The "experts" who take turns on television analyze the situation in Ukraine on the basis of dubious information, most often hypotheses erected as facts—and then we no longer manage to understand what is happening. This is how panics are created. The problem is not so much to know who is right in this conflict, but to question the way our leaders make their decisions. Let's try to examine the roots of the conflict. It starts with those who for the last eight years have been talking about "separatists" or "independentists" from Donbass. This is not true. The referendums conducted by the two self-proclaimed Republics of Donetsk and Lugansk in May 2014, were not referendums of "independence" , as some unscrupulous journalists have claimed, but referendums of "self-determination" or "autonomy". The qualifier "pro-Russian" suggests that Russia was a party to the conflict, which was not the case, and the term "Russian speakers" would have been more honest. Moreover, these referendums were conducted against the advice of Vladimir Putin...

News on the conflict in Ukraine is replete with violations of international humanitarian law (IHL), conveying the impression that soldiers have either been ordered to commit these crimes or have been allowed to do so (or a combination thereof). In the latter case, their commanders could be held responsible for their crimes. Commanders are considered particularly empowered to ensure compliance with IHL (Bemba 2016, para. 172). Therefore, they are responsible for crimes committed by their subordinates should they fail to take measures to prevent or punish the commission of such crimes.
This post examines the responsibility of military commanders in the conflict in Ukraine in light of Article 28(a) of the Statute of the International Criminal Court (ICC). After defining command responsibility, this post categorizes the forces present on the ground. It then delves into and applies the elements of command responsibility to the categories of forces present in Ukraine.

This article examines the question of command responsibility for war crimes under international and Australian law, and how far such responsibility extends. It uses the results of the Brereton Report, an Australian investigation into alleged crimes committed by its special forces in Afghanistan, as its starting point. While this is very much an Australian case study, the concerns it raises should be of interest to all professional militaries. In any command responsibility case, key questions will usually include: who knew what, when; and what were they obliged to do about it? The article also provides an important case study of the implications when national legal standards adopted for war crimes prosecutions differ from the provisions of international law.

The press has reported numerous instances of attacks by Russian forces on cities, hospitals, airports, nuclear power plants, places of worships, etc. The list is very long. But are all these attacks automatically unlawful, as often claimed in press reports? After explaining the legal framework to determine the lawfulness of these attacks, this post, using the example of the attack on hospitals, and more specifically the maternity hospital in Mariupol, illustrates how the targeting rules apply and argues that, even in the case of an attack against medical facilities, the answer is not always a straight: 'it is unlawful'.
The relevant legal framework to determine the lawfulness of a military target is international humanitarian law (IHL), a regime that only applies in the situation of an armed conflict. The conflict in Ukraine is undoubtedly an international armed conflict (Common Article 2 of the Geneva Conventions (GCs)) as it involves two State parties. One might even argue that it is the continuation of the international conflict that started in 2014 when Russia annexed Crimea. Consequently, all four Geneva Conventions of 1949 and their Additional Protocol I (API) of 1977, as well as those rules of customary international humanitarian law (CIHL) that arise based on the practice of States apply.

The NATO treaty is widely thought to be an ironclad guarantee that the allies will automatically come to the defense of any member state subject to an armed attack. In the United States, the treaty is popularly understood, further, as authorizing the president to use force under such circumstances without congressional approval. In other words, the belief is that neither the president nor Congress has a choice if a NATO ally is attacked — the United States, like it or not, is then at war.
That understanding is mistaken. The NATO treaty does not require the United States or any other party automatically to go to war if a party is attacked. The treaty provides that an attack on one is an attack on all—but it leaves each nation free, in accordance with its own "constitutional processes," to determine whether an armed attack has occurred and to take such action "as it deems necessary" in response.

Although land operations have garnered most attention, the war between Ukraine and the Russian Federation also rages at and from the sea. During these last weeks, several merchant vessels were attacked and seized, some apparently within the territorial sea of a NATO Member State. Naval mines have been spotted, amphibious operations undertaken, naval fires used on objectives on land, and in the weeks leading up to the war much mention was made of Russia effectively blockading the Sea of Azov. Talks of blockade have since continued, also within the context of the need to find safe corridors for civilians and seafarers to escape the war. But is there really a naval blockade in the Sea of Azov?

While regularly not compulsory, IHL encourages evacuations of civilians from besieged and encircled cities. Evacuees are protected by the general rules protecting civilians and enjoy absolute immunity against attacks. Hence, attacks against evacuees not only violate the evacuation agreements but also constitute unlawful attacks against civilians under IHL and war crimes.
In addition, civilians must not be coerced to evacuate as a result of systematic violations of IHL. There is also a strong indication that evacuation routes that require nationals of one belligerent party to relocate into the territory of the adverse party are prohibited. If not complying with these requirements, evacuations can amount to forced displacement. The widespread patterns of indiscriminate attacks and attacks against the civilian population by Russian forces in connection with Russia's proposal of establishing evacuation corridors into its own territory, suggest that the proposed humanitarian corridors indeed amount to forced displacement of civilians.

The United Nations Charter does not authorise any state to use force against another member state, save for the exceptions provided in the event of self defence. Sanctions may be employed, under authorisation of the Security Council, by virtue of art 41. The Security Council has given no such authorisation in the case of Russia's intervention in Ukraine. Clearly, as an aggressor Russia can not legitimately claim to be acting in self defence by taking action against a state, Ukraine, that is itself defending itself or an ally assisting lawfully in its defence. All the same, the imposition of directed sanctions by any state is a measure that may be perceived by the targeted state as hostile, so that it subjectively regards that state as a party to the conflict. In any event, sanctions that have, as one of their purposes, the aim of changing the government (regime change) would constitute a breach of art 2(4) of the Charter and Customary International Law. They would raise the stakes considerably. It is by no means clear that, although the sanctions imposed on Russia are the most severe ever imposed by the United Kingdom, to have had an impact on Russia and its economy, they are not yet at the level where they are causing economic pain that Russia did not anticipate. Indeed, the Russians are contemplating retaliatory measures by reducing gas supplies to Europe and seizing foreign aircraft. If there does come a time when sanctions prompt illegal regime change in Russia, or severely impact Russian life, or the economy, one must try and understand whether the Russian leader of a nuclear power state will perceive this as posing an existential threat.

The authors present a model of a criminal indictment against President Vladimir Putin for the crime of initiating and executing a war of aggression against Ukraine. The indictment represents the type of document international war crimes prosecutors or national prosecutors could file before an international or national court. The model indictment proceeds using the definition of aggression under international criminal law as set out in Article 8bis of the Rome Statute to the International Criminal Court (ICC).
The ICC does not have jurisdiction to prosecute the crime of aggression in this scenario, but the authors draw on the Rome Statute definition because it is one of the most narrow definitions of the crime of aggression and because it was carefully drafted to ensure that it does not go beyond existing general customary international law.

The recognition of the DPR and LPR by Russia reminds us of the legal importance of international recognition, as well as that it is important from whom the recognition stems. By the overwhelming condemnation by the West, it is evident that the institution of recognition cannot be understood as a mere, insignificant, confirmatory declaration of certain facts. To the contrary, the act of recognition of the DPR and LPR created a new bond between the 'Republics' and Russia creating a sphere of legal interactions, which by non-recognizing states will be considered as a breach of international law.
It is unrealistic to expect that the inter-subjectivist perception of the DPR and LPR statehoods will broaden, which means that both 'Republics' will not be able to exercise all attributes of statehood universally (avail of international judiciary, join the UN etc.). They will remain de facto states, unless they decide to follow in the Crimean footsteps and become part of Russia.

Social media and news outlets are replete with examples of misconduct occurring during the Russian invasion of Ukraine. In fact, this conflict is being conducted under the public eye—more so even than recent conflicts in Syria or Iraq—given the absence of communications denial in the conflict area so far. In the lead up to the invasion, the United States took the unusual step of making its intelligence public, with the intent of stemming the potential for Russia to use disinformation to legitimize its unlawful entry into Ukraine. As the conflict continues to unfold online, so too do reports of breaches of the laws of armed conflict. The documentation by open-source intelligence (OSINT) agencies seeking to provide a service to, among other things, support the eventual prosecution of war crimes committed in the conflict, reinforces a new paradigm for furthering accountability for these crimes.
As Ukraine is not a member of the ICC, the normal route for an ICC investigation would be a United Nations Security Council Resolution (UNSCR), however, this will obviously not be forthcoming due to Russia's status as a permanent member with a veto power. However, as Ukraine voluntarily subjected itself to the jurisdiction of the ICC for offenses committed on its territory since April 2014, the Prosecutor was able to open a preliminary examination of the conflict. This examination concluded with the Prosecutor indicating he would seek authorization to commence an investigation into the situation. Subsequently, thirty-nine countries promptly referred the situation to the Court which enlivened the jurisdiction of the Prosecutor to investigate the situation without requiring either a UNSCR or Court decision and giving him authority to investigate serious breaches of the laws of armed conflict....

The February 24, 2022 invasion of Ukraine resulted in news reports of fear in the streets of Kyiv as Ukrainian forces engaged in "a frantic hunt for spies and traitors," as well as saboteurs and teams seeking to kill President Zelensky and 23 other leaders within Ukraine. Russian forces are reported to have included special forces troops (in U.S. terminology: Special Operations Forces), as well as private militia from the Wagner Group. In addition to Russians being found in civilian clothes it is alleged that special forces may have also donned Ukrainian military uniforms, and used captured Ukrainian and Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe vehicles to mask operations.
It is clear that both Russia and the Ukraine are employing specialized forces in circumstances where issues related to lawful combatancy and the possible commission of war crimes may arise. Such employment raises complex factual and legal issues that military commanders of both countries, and those seeking to hold them accountable must direct their attention. In this respect, particularly considering the potential for paramilitary and other groups not part of the armed forces to be engaged in combat treating all captured fighters to the standard of POWs until their status and disposition can be officially determined provides the most efficient, effective, and humane course of action.

As Russia began its invasion of Ukraine, media reports were noting the increasing involvement of Ukrainian civilians in the defence of their country. Initial reports spoke of civilian volunteers, spontaneously taking up arms to resist the Russian invaders. As the situation rapidly progressed, news emerged that the Ukrainian government had called on all Ukrainians to defend their homeland with reports that, by Friday 25 February, more than 18,000 rifles had been passed out to civilian defence forces in Kyiv. This civilian involvement in the defence of Ukraine takes place alongside both the conventional military defence of the state, and more organised paramilitary and militia groups who have been training for the potential invasion of Ukraine since Russia annexed Crimea in 2014.
Media reports have called these groups and individuals various terms – paramilitary groups, militia, resistance fighters – often interchangeably. But these terms have distinct definitions and threshold requirements under the international law of armed conflict (LOAC), and it's worthwhile to consider them now – how exactly does international law view civilians engaged in armed conflict against an invader and what are the implications under international law if those civilians are captured or killed by Russian forces? To ascertain this, we need to look to the law on the status of combatants and civilians under LOAC.

Let us be clear why the United Nations is largely paralyzed in the face of one of the clearest cases of aggression since 1939: it is because of the veto power of a permanent member of the UN Security Council, used without any regard for other aspects of international law. Friday's veto has shown the Security Council unable even to condemn unprovoked aggression by the Russian Federation into Ukraine (see GIPA statement), which is a strong indication that the Security Council will also be unable to take any actual measures, such as referral to the International Criminal Court ("ICC"), which has jurisdiction to investigate and prosecute the crime of aggression (Rome Statute, Arts 5(1), 8bis, 15bis, 15ter.
There is, of course, the possibility of using the Uniting for Peace Resolution, which would allow matters blocked before the Security Council to be taken up by the General Assembly (which is also free to debate them without such a resolution). Indeed, all such measures that the General Assembly can utilize should be explored. Yet, the General Assembly does not have the same competence as the Security Council, so there are measures the Security Council may take under the UN Charter that the General Assembly cannot.
The thesis of the author's book is that vetoes in the face of genocide, crimes against humanity, or war crimes need to be measured against the legal obligations within the remainder of the system of international law, and not treated as if they were above all law. Specifically, these include: (1) obligations to respect jus cogens, (2) obligations to respect the UN Charter, including its Purposes and Principles (UN Charter, Arts. 1-2), and (3) other treaty obligations.

Russia has begun a large-scale military attack on Ukraine, having first declared it recognizes Donetsk and Luhansk as separate states. It scarcely needs saying Russia is violating international law – violating the prohibition in the United Nations (UN) Charter on the use of force, violating the obligation to respect the sovereignty and territorial integrity of other states, and violating the prohibition on intervention.
But Russia is using the language of the law to defend its actions. In all the recent verbiage of President Vladimir Putin, some attempts at legal arguments can be elicited – but they do not stand up to scrutiny.
Russia has presented itself as a defender of international law – in 2016, Russia and China made a joint declaration 'on the Promotion of International Law'. Russia would do well now to call to mind the reaffirmation in its declaration of 'the principle that States shall refrain from the threat or use of force in violation of the United Nations Charter' as well as the statement that 'sovereign equality is crucial for the stability of international relations'.

With missile and aerial strikes across Ukrainian territory and Russian ground forces entering Ukraine from multiple directions, there is now no doubt that the Russian Federation has used 'force' in the sense of Article 2(4) of the UN Charter against Ukraine, and has done so on a large scale. The burden is now on Russia to attempt to justify this use of force in legal terms. As the ICJ held in Nicaragua, para. 266, it is not for the Court to 'ascribe to States legal views which they do not themselves formulate.' We should take into account only those justifications that Russian government officials themselves formally offer, and evaluate them objectively.
President Putin's speech made three possible arguments. First, that Russia is using force in self-defence, pursuant to Article 51 of the Charter, to protect itself from (some kind of) threat emanating from Ukraine. This on the facts looks like a theory of preemptive self-defence (shades of George W. Bush). Needless to say, 99.9% of international lawyers, would hold that any such theory of preemption is categorically incompatible with Article 51. Second, as an argument of collective self-defence of the (supposedly independent) Donetsk and Luhansk republics. The validity of that argument would of course depend on whether these two entities are in fact states (they are not, and they did not become such simply because President Putin signed a piece of paper), and on whether Ukraine attacked these two new supposed states. But even if this argument was taken at face value, the extent of Russia's military intervention appears impossible to square with the customary criteria of necessity and proportionality. Finally, there is something like a humanitarian intervention argument – that Russia is acting to stop/prevent a 'genocide' of Russians in Eastern Ukraine. But, humanitarian intervention is rejected as a valid exception from the prohibition on the use of force by the vast majority of international lawyers. And President Putin's speech does not emphasize this point anyway, nor does he use the words 'humanitarian intervention' or anything similar. His argument does appear to be primarily or solely one of self-defence, individual or collective, and should be evaluated as such.

Many 'false flag' operations recently deflected attention and concealed Russia's plans for military action against Ukraine, such as the reported explosion of a gas pipeline in Luhansk, the use of a non-existent 'threat' that Ukraine might try to retake Donbas by force because of a reported 'genocide', or the general mobilization of separatist troops in occupied Donbas.
Russia's war termination strategy will unfold only if, and when, the Kremlin believes it has reached an acceptable outcome – in other words, when Moscow can credibly declare a form of victory. The problem is no-one knows what endgame is acceptable to the Russian elite, what 'success' looks like for the Kremlin, and what Russia considers its desired end state over Ukraine. One thing is sure however – the human cost is likely to be extremely high, both in terms of casualties and refugees.
Three main factors are now impacting Moscow's timeline. The first is Ukraine's broader military response – especially the ability of the Ukrainian armed forces to mount a rapid counter-offensive to protect the country. The second is Russian public sentiment regarding the war, especially when the 'body-bag count' starts piling up. And the third is the scope and scale of the international response.

In general academics, politicians and publics do not have a very strong grasp of the role of propaganda within democracies. Indeed, across elite groups in society, which include politicians, journalists who work for the corporate media and major public service outlets and academics, the idea that propaganda is central to democratic societies is usually met with laughter or anger. The idea that the public mind is being manipulated by powerful actors is sometimes treated as absurd or simplistic. At the same time, those people who are a part of the elite political centre ground perceive themselves as free from the influences of propaganda, uniquely positioned to understand what is true and what is false in the world around them. Propaganda might be something that the extreme right or the extreme left partake in, or it might be a problem with respect to foreign interference (witness the claims regarding alleged Russian meddling in Western politics), but it is not a problem vis-à-vis 'mainstream' media and political discourse.
This chapter takes issue with this belief so far as it applies to war and conflict and argues that war propaganda is central to contemporary democracies and, in fact, so central that democratic credentials of those states is in doubt. The chapter starts by defining what is meant by the term propaganda, describing its historical roots and helping explain the current lack of awareness of propaganda. The chapter then explores the case of the 2011-2019 Syrian war in order to highlight some of the key features of propaganda activities in contemporary democracies (focusing on the United Kingdom). This exploratory case study, based upon on-going research, indicates the multiple sites at which propaganda can be seen to be generated and, more broadly, helps us to understand how and why publics have been misled as to the reality of Western government involvement in the Syrian war. In conclusion, it is argued that it is untenable to see the Syrian War propaganda as an aberration or unique case and that, instead, it is indicative of a malaise in contemporary democracies. Until these propaganda activities are properly addressed, genuinely democratic politics involving honest and consensual debate will remain out of reach.

The power of cyber in hybrid conflicts" was a hot topic at the recent European Center of Excellence (CoE) for Countering Hybrid Threats – "Cyber Power Symposium 2021" in Helsinki, Finland on November 10, 2021. This exclusive symposium brought together international experts to discuss critical subjects and share their insights about ways to counter hybrid threats. Research findings of "Countering Hybrid Threats and Securing Global Supply Chain with Help of AI" were presented to this group of global experts. It becomes too apparent that we must no longer stay siloed in our approach to securing our digital and physical infrastructure; however, we must actively engage in serious conversations with our global cybersecurity/hybrid threats community. We acutely need an improved global strategy for countering hybrid threats.