In 2020, the Israeli Supreme Court held section 4 of the Law on Prevention of Infiltration and Ensuring the Departure of Infiltrators from Israel, also known as the Deposit Law, to be unconstitutional. Among other provisions, that law required 36 per cent of the wages of foreign workers to be paid into a dedicated account and returned when the person left the country. For years the Deposit Law had a negative impact on the lives of asylum seekers because of its racialised, gendered, ethnonational and religious impact. Its intersectional impact illustrates cultural, structural and systematic violence, which has been particularly punitive for asylum-seeking women, who are more exposed to sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV).

In this context, this interdisciplinary qualitative and empirical research article draws from empirical fieldwork conducted in Israel to understand the intersectional impact of the law. It therefore conducts a theoretical examination of the literature and connects that to the empirical study. Thus, the article empirically and theoretically investigates (i) the extent to which state-created categories foster unlawful multilayered and multilevel forms of vulnerability and discrimination; (ii) the intersectional impact of the Deposit Law and how it is related to SGBV; and (iii) how state-created intersecting vulnerabilities can be diagnosed. The overall goal of the article is to indicate the intertwined nature and interconnection between state-created categories and the inevitability of state-created vulnerabilities.

The International Criminal Court (ICC) is a legal institution embedded in international politics. Politics shaped the Rome Statute of the ICC, which is rooted in norms and rules of European lineage and security interests of party states. Politics constrains and influences the operation of the Court, which has adapted in response to oversight and governance of the Assembly of States Parties, and to political actions extrinsic to institutional rules. The ICC also has political effects in situation states. A brief history shows that application of Rome Statute triggers across state parties with different social conditions skewed geographic distribution of its investigations and prosecutions towards Africa, a structural bias that catalysed a legitimation crisis for the ICC. Subsequent exercises of expansive jurisdiction aimed at nationals of non-African, non-party states – including Israel and some of the world's great powers – have dampened African complaints and advanced the ICC agenda, but intensified non-legitimacy claims by powerful non-party states. To survive, Court organs must follow legal mandates, yet be responsive to pressing international political demands, continuously risking the legitimacy of the ICC as a legal institution and adverse political reactions by antagonised governments. Careful management of the tension between law and politics at the ICC may modestly reduce antagonism towards the Court, but that tension cannot be resolved, and confrontations over the ICC's legitimacy are certain to recur.

War crimes related to the decision to carry out attacks during the conduct of hostilities are almost always defined in terms of conduct and not result (Article 8(2)(b) of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court). Yet it is common for critiques of such decisions to focus on attack results as proof of their alleged illegality. While such results are probative of compliance or non-compliance with international humanitarian law rules regulating the conduct of hostilities, they should rarely be indisputable. This article addresses the challenge of attaching probative value to attack results when assessing responsibility for alleged war crimes based on allegedly illicit attack decisions.

Much discussion over Russia's 2022 invasion of Ukraine focuses on the inability to charge aggression. However, another approach might be available: charging this under the ICC crimes against humanity (CAH) residual clause. First proposed in 2010 by Benjamin Ferencz, who lamented the circumscribed reach of aggression under the ‘Kampala Compromise’, the proposal has met with scepticism, primarily given that textbook aggression targets military forces, not civilians. Yet, civilian populations disproportionately bear the brunt of the violence of modern aggression (often being its direct targets). Russia's 2022 invasion is but the most recent and compelling example. Thus, this article resuscitates Ferencz's proposal, arguing that Russian leaders could be charged with using illegal force as a CAH under the residual clause. This approach would have practical advantages: initiating aggression in the Kremlin links liability to Putin much more directly for killing Ukrainian civilians, and charging it as CAH opens human victims to ICC participation and reparations. There are theoretical advantages, too, with utilitarian/retributive objectives better satisfied. Moreover, Ferencz's approach is better than recently proposed alternatives: using aggression merely as a gravity/liability modes/sentencing enhancer or alleging breach of the right to self-determination as the residual clause gravamen (arguably creating problems with victim group identification).

The Hungarian government has been utilising emergencies to expand its political power instead of upholding constitutionalism and the rule of law. This strategy has given the government almost unlimited power to enact emergency decrees, even when the state and the population are not in immediate danger. The ninth amendment to the Fundamental Law of Hungary has raised concerns about the government's use of emergency powers, granting the executive branch even more authority during exceptional times by allowing the government to prolong the ‘state of exception’ indefinitely and maintain pandemic-related emergency measures to respond to potential consequences of the war in Ukraine. As a result, the executive body has been able to exert significant political control without proper parliamentary oversight.

This article explores the legal situation relating to the Sea of Azov in the light of the Russian suspension of shipping on 24 February 2022. While this act received little scholarly or political attention, there is a debate concerning the legality of the suspension of shipping, mainly whether it is governed by the law of naval blockade under the laws of naval warfare. The article analyses the situation from the perspectives of both international humanitarian law (IHL) and the law of the sea (LOS) and examines how the interaction between the two legal regimes affects the analysis. The article supports the conclusion that the Russian conduct does not constitute a naval blockade but may be an accepted practice within the legal regime of naval warfare. In addition, it holds that LOS affects both the laws of naval warfare and the status of the Sea of Azov. Furthermore, the article raises doubts as to the relevance and applicability of the legal concept of naval blockade in modern international law.

Adopting a feminist perspective, this article focuses on the protection of women's right to reproductive health during armed conflicts and, in particular, on access to safe abortion services for rape victims. Indeed, although women are disproportionately affected by conflicts, and their sexual and reproductive needs are exacerbated by the spread of sexual and gender-based violence, there is a lack of specific attention on this topic in the literature. The article therefore aims to investigate whether an obligation to provide access to safe abortion services for rape victims can be interpretatively derived from the set of international rules governing armed conflict. To this end, it will start by focusing on abortion as part of the non-discriminatory medical treatment that states must provide to the wounded and sick. It will then address the interpretation of the absolute obligation to treat humanely persons who are taking no active part in the hostilities, and investigate what such treatment entails when it comes to pregnant women who are victims of rape in armed conflicts. Finally, state practice and the practice of the UN Security Council in the framework of the Women, Peace and Security Agenda will be investigated.

As the result of the initiation of the ‘judicial reform’ in January 2023, and the huge wave of public protest, Israel is currently undergoing a political turmoil which may develop into a fully fledged constitutional crisis. In this article I provide an account of the roots and causes of the present crisis from a public law theory perspective. In particular, I discuss the relationship between constitutional and administrative law in Israeli law. I argue that the core of Israel's constitutional structure has always been the institutions of administrative law as created and developed during the ‘administrative revolution’ of the 1980s. In contrast, Israel's constitutional law has always been a peripheral in the core structure of judicial review over the political branches. Contrary to common wisdom, I argue that the ‘constitutional revolution’ of the mid-1990s has not changed this core structure, but rather provided an external belt of normative barricades for this core structure. Accordingly, and despite the pretentious constitutional discourse developed in the 1990s by the Court, Israel was and still is a monistic democracy with no true constitutional layer of norms that enjoys higher status vis-à-vis regular legislation.

In the last year Israel has been going through its most severe constitutional crisis in its history. The newly elected right-wing government has initiated a judicial overhaul that would limit the authority of the judiciary and grant the executive almost absolute powers. In response, the country has witnessed unprecedented civil protestations and opposition from nearly all segments of civil society, academia and economic sectors. In this article we argue that the judicial overhaul must be analysed as a populist constitutional project. We also explain that compared with other systems, Israeli democracy is especially vulnerable to populism, because of its unique institutional design factors coupled with social factors. Only with understanding these factors can one grasp the risks that the judicial overhaul poses to Israeli democracy.

The article discusses the current legal-political crisis in Israel against the backdrop of the judicial and political powers that have led to the present situation. The disastrous Yom Kippur War of 1973 weakened the government and public confidence in the political institutions. The weaknesses of the government enabled the Supreme Court to carry out a judicial revolution, which completely changed the country's legal system. The legal revolution entered a new stage when the Supreme Court held that the Basic Laws form part of Israel's constitution. This judicially created constitution opened the way for judicial review of legislation. Its weakness stems from the fact that Basic Laws are legislated in much the same way as ordinary legislation. As a result, the Knesset can easily override any ruling of the Court that voids a statute, by amending the relevant Basic Law. The Court is now struggling to find a means of gaining some control over the legislation of Basic Laws. At the same time, the present government declared its intention to carry out legal reforms that are in effect a counter-revolution to the judicial revolution. The article examines how the fluctuation in the political support of the Court affects its decisions.

The judicial overhaul, designed to weaken the judiciary and unleash governmental power from its structural checks, should be understood, we argue, as part of a deeper transformation of Israel's constitutional identity. At its core, this transformation is not about ‘empowering the people’ but rather about questioning Israel's commitment to the fundamental principle of equal citizenship, mainly regarding the permissibility of preferring the interests of Jews over those of non-Jews. Understanding the judicial overhaul as part of this larger transformation of the state's identity, towards more Jewish and less democratic, carries normative implications regarding its legitimacy.

The judicial overhaul is often presented by the Israeli government as an attempt to undo the 1992 so-called ‘constitutional revolution’, questioning its legitimacy and asserting that a counter-revolution would be permissible, aligning with the current will of the people. An examination of Israel's constitutional history refutes this argument. We show that while the 1992 revolution enjoyed both normative and, at least, partial social legitimacy, current attempts do not.

How should the constitutional reform in Israel be assessed in comparative terms? Comparative constitutional understandings point to the centrality of three key sets of norms as part of the ‘democratic minimum core’: (i) commitments to free and fair, regular multi-party elections; (ii) political rights and freedoms; and (iii) a system of institutional checks and balances necessary to maintain (i) and (ii). Any change in judicial power and independence must be assessed against the benchmark of the democratic minimum core, and by reference to its cumulative practical effect on a system of institutional checks and balances.

We claim that recent changes in Israel may already threaten these institutional checks, and have the potential to do more damage in the future, if given broad effect and if combined with further changes in the power and independence of the Supreme Court. On this basis, we suggest, the relevant changes should be viewed as either ‘abusive’ or ‘proto-abusive’ in nature. By threatening to undermine both the power and independence of the Supreme Court of Israel, they directly threaten the health of the constitutional checks and balances system and, hence, the ‘democratic minimum core’ in Israel.

There are many ways in which to examine the current Israeli constitutional crisis. This article uses the lens of anti-corruption, a global movement which has changed politics in many countries. The long empowerment of the legal system in Israel arguably has its origins in policing corruption, which may be a particularly powerful motivator for the current governing coalition's efforts to assert more control over the Supreme Court. The dynamics of anti-corruption in Israel are somewhat distinct from those of other countries in ways that may bode well for the Court in its confrontation with the government.

The Knesset has recently amended Basic Law: The Judiciary to eliminate the ability of the courts to issue an injunction against the government or any of its ministers based on the reasonableness of their decisions. This article examines this amendment from various angles. The first section posits the amendment as part of a larger plan of the coalition to eliminate judicial review and provide the government with unlimited power. The second section emphasises that the amendment was legislated by the Knesset for itself, raising concern over a conflict of interest. This is followed by a brief explanation of the reasonableness standard in Israeli law, and an assessment of the duty to act reasonably, which stems from the democratic principle of the rule of law. The next two sections assess the many risks that the amendment creates, such as the types of decision that could be made without adhering to a standard of reasonableness, and the trimming of the power of the Attorney General as a legal ‘gatekeeper’. Special emphasis is given to the dangers that the amendment holds for the quality and diversity of the civil service. Finally, the article discusses the multiple reasons why the government should not be immune from a reasonableness check and tackles the arguments against the use of the standard of reasonableness by the courts.

This multifaceted analysis leads to the conclusion that the elimination of the reasonableness standard undermines basic features of democracy and fractures the social contract between the citizens and the government. Therefore, it should not be immune from judicial review.

The current political landscape in Israel, with countrywide demonstrations occurring weekly, and citizens calling for democracy in the face of initiatives introduced by the coalition, may be regarded as transformative events with potential constitutional implications. This article explores the question of whether Israel is experiencing a ‘constitutional moment’ and what such a moment entails, taking into account the intricate social, legal and political reality of the country. I argue that the current events should be examined and analysed within a broader context of processes that have been occurring in the Israeli society and legal system over the past two decades. These processes may hinder or create challenges for the realisation of a constitutional moment, rather than facilitating progress towards that goal. Correspondingly, the article lays the basic foundations for the occurrence of an Israeli constitutional moment, which I refer to as ‘constitutionalising Israel's constitutional system’.

This article examines the necessity for constitutional adjudication in a democracy. Democracy is not the government of the minority by the majority, but self-government of the people in a pluralist society. The article regards constitutional adjudication as a necessary component of a constitutional democracy to preserve self-government and individual rights as a pre-condition for the acceptance of majority decisions by the minority. Thus, constitutional adjudication is needed to uphold the possibility of democratic change and to protect individual rights also against the majority. Recent critique of individual decisions does not change this basic insight and practice of constitutional democracies.

This article addresses the concept of ‘constitutional moment’ in contemporary Israel, where an illiberal constitutionalisation process is in progress, and in Hungary, where the illiberal constitutional system has been in place since 2010. After discussing the judicial overhaul of the current Israeli government and the widespread protest movement against it, the article raises the question of whether the moment to adopt a written constitution has arrived. In Hungary, where a semi-electoral autocratic constitutional regime has been entrenched, the question is what are the perspectives on a return to a liberal democratic constitution.

The ‘constitutional reform’ planned by the government that assumed power in Israel in December 2022 is not an end in itself. Its aim is to provide the basis for planned policies and actions of the government that are incompatible with Israel's present constitutional order, and that are unlikely to stand up to judicial review before the present judges of the Supreme Court. This article discusses the connection between various parts of the reform and the plans to make a radical change in Israel's policies in the occupied West Bank. It examines the coalition agreement between PM Netanyahu's Likud party and the Religious Zionist Party, and exposes the connection between the commitment in that agreement to the policies regarding the occupation and the planned ‘reform’.

The article seeks to raise awareness about the non-application of the norms of international humanitarian law (IHL) of international armed conflicts in situations of so-called internationalised armed conflicts – namely, when a non-state armed group (NSAG) that is engaged in an armed conflict against the territorial state enjoys a degree of support from another state. Debates in academic circles and international case law have focused largely on the appropriate test and threshold for establishing the relationship between the NSAG and the supporting state. Practice, however, shows that regardless of the legal test, the foreign state support to the NSAG in a (or an initially) non-international armed conflict is so politically charged that it leads to a complete non-application of the law of international armed conflict by the relevant actors. The article demonstrates its conceptual findings through four case studies: the armed conflicts in Donbas, Nagorno-Karabakh, Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Yemen. Regardless of strong indications of foreign state support to the NSAG in these armed conflicts, no relevant actors applied the IHL norms of international armed conflict. The article provides broader suggestions on the possible avenues for remedying the issue.

After being kidnapped by the FARC-EP guerrilla group in 1994, the Colombian war reporter Herbin Hoyos created the radio show Las Voces del Secuestro (roughly, The Kidnapped Voices). Every morning, for 24 years, the families of those abducted by the guerrilla group sent out public messages of remembrance, hoping that their loved ones, deep in the jungles of Colombia, would be able to hear the broadcasts on their radios. Although the show closed in 2018, its legacy lives on, not only in the collective memory of many Colombians but also as an exhibition at the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Museum in Geneva (Switzerland). This article examines this show as a dispositif of power and knowledge that (re)produces a particular understanding of law, justice and memory. The show was used by far-right actors in Colombia to mobilise against the recent (2016) peace process – its crown jewel, the Special Jurisdiction for Peace (JEP). As the JEP tackles the question of the FARC-EP kidnapping through its macro-case 01, the shadow of the Voces looms large over Colombia's transitional justice system. In the longest non-international armed conflict in Latin America, even radio waves served the continuation of war by other means.