“From the Land of Witches and Wolves”: A Conversation with Francesca Albanese

Israel’s consolidated interpretation of ceasefires: “you cease, I fire” (cit.).

Francesca Albanese

Israel recently stopped bombing Gaza, sort of, offering a moment of respite for Palestinians. This is a welcome development, to be sure. Having brutalised the enclave for nearly 18 months, collapsed the delivery of aid, obliterated health, education, and housing infrastructures, slaughtered tens of thousands, maimed tens of thousands more, all while displacing millions, any pause in the violence must be cherished. But this moment is fragile and incomplete—deliberately so—and a wholly inadequate response to the impunity Israel has visited upon the people it traps. 

Consistent with the Western media’s anti-Palestinian bias, headlines have described this moment as a ceasefire, signalling a reciprocity that was never there (Israel’s monsoon of bombs has surpassed World War II shellings of Dresden, Hamburg, and London, combined). This was a brutal one-sided devastation, leaving Palestinians scavenging for relatives and shelter, as much as they are for food and water. What kind of livelihood can they unearth from the rubble, the same rubble the World Bank estimates will take a generation to clear? What kind of dignity can they salvage from battered homes and murdered dreams? Even after the ‘ceasefire,’ Gaza remains under a medieval siege. A pause in Israeli violence does not signify peace; it is an interlude in the spectacle of an ongoing settler-colonial project across historic Palestine.

What does this moment mean for international lawyers and readers of Opinio Juris? This pause demands reflection across our discipline. While the march to another genocide may have been scuppered, at least temporarily, the structural violence of occupation and apartheid has accelerated. Israel continues to undertake massive land theft and home demolitions in the West Bank and East Jerusalem; Israel is still operationalising a law that criminalises UNRWA’s aid activities; and Israel persists in its refusal to countenance an end to what is now a two-decade long civilian blockade and a three-generation long occupation. To be sure, the assault was never about Hamas: it was always a manifestation of a wider system of domination and dehumanisation that began in 1947. As the Israeli writer and journalist Gideon Levy explained:

There is no conflict. 

Was there an Algerian-French conflict?

There was a brutal French occupation in Algeria, which came to its end. 

And there is no Palestinian-Israeli conflict. 

There is a brutal Israeli occupation, which must come to its end one way or the other. 

Gideon Levy

In what way will the Israeli occupation come to an end and will international law play a part? This is a curious question, of course, since the International Court of Justice (ICJ) has already opined that Israel’s neverending occupation and its associated apartheid regime are both unlawful, while also issuing three provisional measures orders concerning Israel’s genocidal behaviour in Gaza. They are not alone. The pre-trial chamber of the International Criminal Court (ICC) has authorised warrants for at least two Israeli genocidaires, and Israeli soldiers are being investigated in the far corners of the world. Still, despite the legal clarity about the illegality of Israeli violence against Palestinians, the cruelty continues, with Blinken and Baerbock, Biden and Macron, Scholz and Starmer “waving the white flag before Israeli fascism” as Max Blumenthal poetically declared when interrupting a depraved self-congratulatory speech by one of them. 

In our latest episode of Fresh Squeezed! The Opinio Juris Podcast, we asked Francesca Albanese, the UN Special Rapporteur for the Occupied Palestinian Territories, our seemingly hackneyed question about international law’s capabilities. Will it make a difference?

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Albanese, known for her unflinching commitment to documenting human rights violations and advocating for the dignity of all people, is inspired by the broader struggle to liberate Palestine. Hailing from Irpinia, a region in southern Italy described as the “land of witches and wolves”—a place steeped in folklore and known for its resilience in the face of adversity—Albanese operates with a clear and courageous moral compass. Her defiance and resolve echo the spirit of her homeland, resonating with the struggle for freedom that defines Palestine.

Albanese was frank about the tensions between political power and legal integrity, acknowledging the complexities of marshalling Eurocentric international law against the very settler-colonial projects that birthed the regime. It is a complex struggle, to be sure, with New York, Geneva, and the Hague proving to be hostile spaces to Third World liberation. We collectively bemoaned the vulgar double-standards at play when issues of Palestine entered the mix, recognising that much of Europe’s self-avowed commitment to human rights depends heavily on whether they see the victims of violations as humans at all or, as boasted a Ukrainian spokesperson, if they have blonde hair and blue eyes. The racism of international law is not lost on Albanese, who displayed both hope and scepticism toward the legal proceedings underway.

To her, the apartheid framework is illustrative of international law’s Janus-faced character. While the regime enabled white violence and against Black populations in (South) Africa, it also provided a language and a framework around which resistance to apartheid could consolidate. Israel appears to have mirrored its system of governance on Jan Smuts’s historic model of racial segregation (and, we note, was a potent ally of apartheid South Africa until its last breath). It also divides populations based on ethnicity, privileging one group with citizenship, housing, and voting rights, while denying the same to others. Like other settler-colonial projects, zionism was always chauvinistic, informed by a belief in Jewish supremacy and indigenous disposability. This is the genocidal nature of settler-colonialism, which demands the erasure of the indigenous population to make way for settler futures. International law as practised in Palestine remains wedded to its predatory penchant. In other words, Palestinian suffering and Palestinian hope are both nurtured by international law, in equal measure. 

Echoing Rajagopal, Albanese recognises that one of the most powerful tools at her—and our—disposal is the act of naming. She insists on naming the situation in Palestine as apartheid, occupation, and genocide. She does this not simply to describe facts, but to challenge the moral and legal foundations of a system that dehumanises Palestinians. Many in the West have been brought up hearing about Palestinian terror and Israeli victimhood, a form of subterfuge common to ethno-chauvinist relationships of domination, where the self-proclaimed superior group or chosen people bristle at the idea of equality with the natives. For her part, Albanese thinks not in terms of ethnic supremacy, but of shared humanity. When she heard the phrase “never again” in her high school history lessons, she did not hear never again for fellow Europeans but “never again for anyone.”

Of course, Albanese is keenly aware that international law has rarely practised the universality it professes, finding ways to protect its worst violators and prevent accountability (we wish we had asked her about Judge Sebutinde’s predicted promotion). Even the ICJ, feted today, has a history of adopting positions that derailed the Palestinian struggle for liberation. For example, we discussed the ICJ’s almost impossible standard in genocide cases—as seen in Bosnia v. Serbia (2007) and Croatia v. Serbia (2014)—a position rightly criticised by at least some members of the bench. Yet, Albanese remains optimistic and, in the podcast, explains why she believes a finding of genocide is possible by the ICJ and that the charge could even be added to Netanyahu and Gallant’s current warrants.

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Ultimately, Albanese reminds us that law is never neutral. In fact, it almost always privileges the side of domination, legitimising the interests of a select few and normalising oppressive relationships. In a fascinating investigation into the anti-Black racism that informed the Genocide Convention, Antony Conwright describes domination as the ugly reality of international law: “[it] is not a transcendent decree made in the image of divine justice. The law is made in the image, desires, and interests of those with power.” 

He is right, of course, yet, as TWAIL and other critical movements have documented, law can also be instrumentalised in subversive ways, producing moments where the dominated turn the blade against the blacksmith. This is precisely what happened when South Africa bucked Euro-American opposition and brought a case against Israel, placing both zionism and settler-colonialism on trial for the first time in history. Henceforth and in posterity, South Africa’s opening statement and the evidence it compiled about Israel’s genocidal intent will remain a matter of public record:

In sum Madam president, all of these acts individually and collectively form a calculated pattern of conduct by Israel indicating a genocidal intent.

This intent is evident from Israel’s conduct in specially targeting Palestinians living in Gaza; using weaponry that causes large-scale homicidal destruction, as well as targetted sniping of civilians; designating safe zones for Palestinians to seek refuge, and then bombing these; depriving Palestinians in Gaza of basic needs – food, water, healthcare, fuel, sanitation and communications; destroying social infrastructure, homes, schools, mosques, churches, hospitals; and killing, seriously injuring and leaving large numbers of children orphaned.

Genocides are never declared in advance, but this court has the benefit of the past 13 weeks of evidence that shows incontrovertibly a pattern of conduct and related intention that justifies a plausible claim of genocidal acts.

South Africa’s opening statement before the ICJ

Palestinians have long told stories about their children being sniped, about the deprivations of apartheid and the blockade, and about arbitrary violence and killings, only to be gaslit by international law. Today, Israeli impunity is evident for all to see. While this is a product of generations of Palestinian resistance and global solidarity, certain international lawyers have played their part, including Albanese.

Albanese’s steadfastness in the face of relentless smears is a testament to her commitment to justice. She reminds us that international lawyers must aspire to more than preserving the status quo. We must reimagine what is meant by international law and use it to challenge the power structures that sustain violence and oppression. Her reports have proven controversial, precisely for this reason, documenting violations in unabashed precision, eschewing the diplomatic language that many states (and scholars) hide behind. As she explained, the attacks against her are negligible when measured against the violence Israel metes out against Palestinians.

“There is a war for narratives being waged, particularly around the law,” she ended our episode with. Legal battles are not just fought in courtrooms but also in the public sphere, where narratives of resistance must contend with narratives of domination. During her mandate, one of Albanese’s goal was to cultivate a “culture of aversion” toward systemic violence amongst international lawyers. To her credit and to our admiration, she has done so without bombast or self-promotion; she has not used this moment to seek professorships or keynotes (even participating in the podcast during a holiday with her mother). Ultimately, Albanese has shown us how those so motivated can use this moment to work for Palestinian liberation. That is a potent reflection for international lawyers and readers of Opinio Juris and one that can galvanise the kind of mobilisation needed to end Israel’s occupation of Palestine, one way or the other.

You can listen to the podcast here (apple) and here (youtube). You can also view the videocast here (youtube). It will be available on spotify in the days ahead.

Photo of a child standing by a UNRWA shelter by Khalid Kwaik on Unsplash

Many thanks to Omar Kamel for his contributions to the conversation.