The Moral Logic Behind the Strikes on Iran

Iranians and Israelis standing together in solidarity
Iranians and Israelis standing together in solidarity

Why the current attacks on Iran are illegal under international law but justifiable under Just War Theory. Read on to find out the moral logic of the strikes on Iran.

The Legal Frame: Why the Strikes Look Unlawful

International law is deliberately narrow. It allows force only when the UN Security Council authorises it or when a state is acting in self‑defence after an armed attack. Neither condition applies here. Iran had not launched a direct attack on US or Israeli territory, and no Security Council resolution was ever going to pass with Russia and China holding vetoes.

The Charter also prohibits regime change by force. Targeting political leadership crosses into the territory of the crime of aggression. On the legal ledger, the strikes are difficult to defend.

But legality is not the same as morality. And when a regime uses diplomacy as a shield, exports violence through proxies, and pursues long‑term existential goals, the moral analysis shifts.

Why Legality Isn’t the Whole Story

Just War Theory asks whether force is morally necessary to prevent grave harm. It evaluates intention, proportionality, last resort, and the nature of the threat. When applied to Iran, these criteria lead to a very different conclusion from the one international law reaches.

Iran’s post‑1979 regime is not a conventional authoritarian state. It is a revolutionary theocracy whose ideology mandates hostility toward Israel, the United States, and the West. This is not rhetorical theatre. It is written into the constitution, embedded in the IRGC’s mandate, and expressed through decades of proxy warfare.

The aggression is not episodic. It is structural.

A Regime Built for Exporting Conflict

Iran’s leadership has spent 45 years building a network of armed proxies—Hezbollah, Hamas, PIJ, Iraqi militias, Syrian militias, the Houthis—designed to encircle Israel and pressure the United States. These groups are not independent actors. They are instruments of Iranian strategy.

Alongside this, Iran has pursued a nuclear program marked by concealment, sanitised sites, undeclared facilities, and cooperation only when cornered. The IAEA’s reports over two decades show a consistent pattern: Iran advances its program when it can, slows it when pressured, and never fully discloses what it is doing.

Diplomacy becomes a tool for delay, not resolution. And every US election cycle offers a fresh opportunity to reset negotiations, stall for time, and wait for a more favourable administration.

This is not the behaviour of a state seeking coexistence. It is the behaviour of a state preparing for a future confrontation.

The Slow‑Burn Strategy

One of the most compelling interpretations of Iran’s behaviour is that it is pursuing a long‑term, slow‑burn strategy aimed at eventually confronting Israel and the United States on its own terms. That means avoiding premature war, building asymmetric capabilities, exploiting diplomatic cycles, and using negotiations to buy time.

A central pillar of this strategy is the pursuit of nuclear capability. Nuclear weapons function in geopolitics the way a queen functions on a chessboard: they change the entire geometry of the game. States with nuclear weapons are treated differently by the great powers. They gain immunity from regime‑threatening retaliation, freedom to escalate through proxies, and leverage to coerce neighbours.

Once a regime acquires a nuclear deterrent, removing it becomes exponentially harder.

Iran understands this. Its nuclear program is not a sprint; it is a deliberate crawl toward a position where it can no longer be coerced, contained, or confronted. Its restraint is not evidence of moderation. It is evidence of patience.

A regime that wants to survive in the short term but win in the long term behaves exactly like this: calibrated escalation, proxy warfare, nuclear hedging, and ideological consistency across generations.

If this interpretation is correct, the threat is existential even if not immediate.

How Just War Theory Responds to a Threat Like This

Just War Theory distinguishes between preventive war (not allowed) and pre‑emptive action (allowed when a real, advancing threat will soon become irreversible). A slow‑burn existential threat fits the second category when intentions are clear, the threat is growing, diplomacy is being used as deception, and waiting will make defence impossible.

Iran’s behaviour meets those conditions. Its ideology is explicitly hostile. Its proxies wage continuous low‑intensity war. Its nuclear program advances in the shadows. Its diplomacy is a stalling tactic timed to US election cycles. And its long‑term strategy appears aimed at a moment when it can fight from a position of strength.

Under these circumstances, the moral case for action becomes stronger than the legal one.

Does This Justify Regime Change?

Just War Theory allows regime change only when two demanding thresholds are met: the regime itself must be the instrument of aggression, and removing it must be necessary to prevent catastrophic harm.
Iran’s regime is not simply aggressive; it is built for aggression. Its ideology, institutions, and foreign policy are inseparable from its hostility toward Israel and the West. And if the regime is indeed pursuing a long‑term strategy aimed at eventual confrontation—anchored by a future nuclear deterrent—then waiting may simply allow the threat to mature into something irreversible.

In that reading, removing the regime is not imperial overreach. It is pre‑emptive defence against a danger that cannot be neutralised any other way.

Key Takeaway

International law and Just War Theory do not always point in the same direction. Legally, the recent strikes on Iran are difficult to justify. Morally, the case is far stronger. When a regime is ideologically committed to long‑term existential harm, uses proxies to wage continuous war, pursues nuclear capability as the queen on the geopolitical chessboard, and treats diplomacy as a stalling tactic timed to US election cycles, the moral obligation may shift from restraint to action. The uncomfortable truth is that the law may forbid what morality requires.

How Headlines help Anti‑Israel Bias Escape Scrutiny

Headline push Anti‑Israel Bias

Most people never read past a headline. In the age of scrolling, swiping, and instant reactions, the headline is the story for a huge share of the audience. It shapes the emotional response, sets the frame, and often becomes the public’s memory of the event, regardless of what the article actually says.

That is why headlines matter so much in reporting on Israel. And it is why complaints to the Broadcasting Standards Authority (BSA) and the NZ Media Council so often fail, even when the headline is blatantly misleading or inflammatory.

A recent Stuff story is a perfect example.

The Stuff Headline That Does the Damage

Stuff ran the headline:

“Human rights experts join rising chorus that accuses Israel of genocide in Gaza.”

It is a headline designed to hit hard. It implies a growing, authoritative consensus. It frames Israel as a state facing a swelling global indictment. And it uses the most explosive word in the political vocabulary: genocide.

But the article itself tells a different story. Buried further down, readers learn that:

  • The International Court of Justice has not found Israel guilty of genocide.
  • The UN “experts” are not judges, not investigators, and do not speak for the UN as a whole.
  • The legal question is unresolved and contested.

A more accurate, less inflammatory headline could easily have been:

“UN-appointed experts repeat genocide allegations; legal bodies yet to rule.”

Same facts. Less heat. No distortion. But most readers never get that far. They see the headline, absorb the accusation, and move on.

Why Regulators Keep Saying “Not Guilty”

When NZFOI or others complain about biased headlines, the outcome is depressingly predictable. The BSA and Media Council almost always judge the entire article, not the headline that shaped public perception.

Their reasoning follows a familiar pattern:

  • A “reasonable reader” is assumed to read the whole article.
  • Headlines are allowed to be punchy or provocative.
  • Balance in the body text is treated as a cure for imbalance in the headline.

This approach made sense in the print era, when readers sat down with a newspaper and consumed the whole story. It makes no sense in a digital environment where headlines circulate independently on social media, often without any context at all.

The regulators are evaluating journalism as it exists on paper, not as it is consumed in the real world.

This allows headlines to help anti-Israel bias to escape scrutiny.

What the Research Shows About Headlines

Modern media research is unequivocal:

  • Many readers never click through to the article.
  • Emotional reactions occur at the headline level alone.
  • First impressions formed from headlines persist even when contradicted by the body.
  • Social media amplifies headlines in isolation, without nuance or context.

In other words, a fair body cannot fix a misleading headline. The harm has already happened.

This is especially true for Israel-related reporting, where words like “genocide,” “apartheid,” and “war crimes” carry enormous emotional weight and can inflame public sentiment instantly.

Why This Matters for Israel

Israel is uniquely vulnerable to headline distortion because:

  • Allegations are often presented as facts.
  • Headlines frequently omit legal context.
  • Nuance appears only deep in the article.
  • Social media spreads the headline, not the correction.

The Stuff headline is a textbook case. It primes readers to believe Israel is committing genocide, even though the article itself acknowledges that no court has made such a finding.

The headline becomes the verdict. The article becomes the footnote.

What Needs to Change

New Zealand’s media standards need to catch up with how news is actually consumed.

  • Headlines must be assessed as standalone communications. If the headline misleads, the complaint should be upheld, even if the body is balanced.
  • Newsrooms must stop using headlines as emotional weapons. Accuracy should not be sacrificed for clicks, especially on matters of war and public safety.
  • Regulators must recognise the real-world impact of framing. The “reasonable reader” of 2026 does not behave like the reader of 1996.

Until that happens, misleading headlines about Israel will continue to shape public opinion while escaping accountability.

 

Julia Hartley Brewer interview on Israel, Britain and the West

Jonathan Sacerdoti’s in‑depth interview with broadcaster Julia Hartley Brewer offers a strikingly direct look at the political, cultural, and moral pressures reshaping Britain, Israel, and the wider Western world. Drawing on her recent visit to Israel and her long experience in British media, Brewer speaks with unusual clarity about leadership, national identity, and the values liberal democracies must recover.

A World Growing More Chaotic

Brewer describes global politics as increasingly unmoored, with leaders who no longer resemble the steady figures of previous decades. She contrasts Donald Trump’s disruptive style with Keir Starmer’s bureaucratic caution, arguing that neither fits traditional expectations. Yet she notes that Trump’s unpredictability suits an unpredictable era. Her guiding principle is performance, not partisanship: praise what works, call out what doesn’t.

Israel, October 7, and Moral Clarity

Brewer’s strongest reflections come from her September visit to Israel, where she met families of hostages. The experience, she says, was “life‑changing.” She rejects claims of genocide in Gaza and argues that Israel has shown extraordinary restraint given the scale of the October 7 atrocities. She emphasises the IDF’s efforts to minimise civilian casualties, noting that many young soldiers died because of those precautions.

Netanyahu: Effective, Flawed, and Misunderstood

In this Julia Harley Brewer interview, she offers a balanced view of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. She acknowledges his political brilliance and strategic long‑term planning while recognising his flaws. She rejects attempts to pin October 7 solely on him, placing responsibility on Hamas. Her main criticism is Israel’s struggle in the information war, where she believes the government has failed to counter hostile narratives.

The West’s Crisis of Confidence

Brewer argues that Britain has been taught to be ashamed of its history and culture, weakening national cohesion. She distinguishes between multi‑racial societies, which she supports, and multi‑culturalism, which she believes has undermined shared values. British liberal norms—freedom of religion, freedom to marry, freedom to live openly—are, she argues, superior to cultures that deny these rights. Tolerance without limits, she warns, becomes self‑destructive.

Immigration, Security, and Hard Choices Ahead

Brewer calls for a serious national reset: investment in defence, stronger border control, civic training or national service, and mass deportations of illegal migrants. These measures, she argues, are necessary to restore social cohesion and national resilience. They are not punitive but protective, aimed at rebuilding a shared sense of duty and belonging.

What Britain Could Learn from Israel

Brewer speaks warmly of the community spirit she witnessed in Israel: positivity, duty, camaraderie, and a strong sense of shared purpose. Young Israelis returning from military service to spend weekends with family left a deep impression. She contrasts this with Britain’s fraying social fabric and argues that Israel’s model of civic responsibility could help rebuild British society.

The Media’s Narrow Bandwidth of Opinion

Brewer recounts her experiences with the BBC, describing a culture where producers privately agreed with her but feared professional consequences for saying so. She argues that British media has prioritised superficial diversity—identity categories—over genuine diversity of thought. This narrowing of acceptable opinion has contributed to public distrust and the silencing of dissenting voices.

A Conversation That Cuts Through the Noise

Sacerdoti’s interview with Julia Harley Brewer stands out for its honesty and refusal to indulge fashionable evasions. Brewer articulates what many in Britain and across the West feel but rarely hear in mainstream media: that liberal democratic values are worth defending, that Israel’s struggle is morally clear, and that Western societies must recover confidence in their own cultural foundations.

About Jonathan Sacerdoti

Jonathan Sacerdoti is a British journalist and broadcaster specialising in antisemitism, extremism, Middle Eastern affairs, and UK politics. He appears regularly on international news networks and hosts long‑form interviews exploring the cultural and political forces shaping the modern world.

About Julia Hartley Brewer

Julia Hartley Brewer is a prominent British radio and television presenter known for her forthright commentary, sharp political analysis, and defence of free expression. A leading voice on TalkTV and TalkRadio, she is recognised for her clear‑spoken support for Israel and her willingness to challenge prevailing orthodoxies in British media and politics.

Israel’s new strategic reality: The China-Iran alliance

Melissa Chen
Melissa Chen

For years, Israel treated China as a distant economic partner — a country that bought our tech, invested in our infrastructure, and stayed politely out of our regional wars.

Melissa Chen’s conversation with Haviv Rettig Gur makes one thing painfully clear:
China is not a bystander. It is now one of the central enablers of the forces trying to destroy Israel.

This isn’t theory. It’s happening in real time — in Iran’s oil fields, in Gaza’s tunnels, in the UN Security Council, and even in the TikTok feeds of Western teenagers.

1. China Is the Financial Lifeline of the Iranian Regime

Iran’s ability to survive sanctions, suppress dissent, and fund its terror network depends overwhelmingly on Beijing.

From the interview:

“It literally buys more than 80% of Iran’s total oil exports… and does all the work necessary to bypass American sanctions.”

China buys Iranian oil at deep discounts, but in such massive quantities that it keeps the regime solvent. That money becomes:

  • Ballistic missiles for Hezbollah
  • Drones for Russia
  • Cash for Hamas
  • Salaries for the Basij and IRGC
  • Subsidies that prevent the Iranian public from toppling the regime

China isn’t just a customer. It is Iran’s strategic depth.

2. Chinese Technology Is Embedded in the Iran–Israel Conflict

Iran’s battlefield is increasingly powered by Chinese systems:

  • Chinese radar and air‑defence platforms
  • Chinese cyber tools
  • Chinese satellite navigation (BeiDou)
  • Chinese AI‑driven surveillance
  • Chinese electronic warfare used to block communications

As Chen notes:

“Iran has essentially co‑opted the Chinese technology and repression apparatus.”

When Israeli pilots fly over Iran, they are not only facing Iranian systems — they are facing Chinese engineering.

3. China’s Pro‑Palestinian Posture Isn’t Moral — It’s Strategic

China’s behaviour after October 7 was a mask‑slipping moment. While the world condemned Hamas, Beijing:

  • Refused to call the massacre terrorism
  • Called for “restraint on all sides”
  • Blocked every US‑backed resolution condemning Hamas
  • Amplified Palestinian messaging that mirrors CCP propaganda

Why? Because the Palestinian cause is a strategic asset in China’s long game.

The 2049 Project: China’s Imperial Horizon

China has a declared goal: by 2049, the 100th anniversary of the PRC, it intends to be the unchallenged global hegemon.

To get there, China must:

  • Undermine US alliances
  • Build influence in the Arab and Muslim world
  • Present itself as the champion of “anti‑imperialist” struggles
  • Weaken Western legitimacy
  • Create a sino‑centric world order

The Palestinian issue is a perfect tool for all of these aims.

The Chessboard: How China Uses the Conflict

Chen puts it bluntly:

“In order to do that, it has to make these moves on the chessboard.”

Supporting the Palestinians allows China to:

  • Court Arab states
  • Undercut US influence
  • Frame Israel as an American proxy
  • Insert CCP narratives into Arab media
  • Keep the Middle East unstable enough to distract the US from Asia

When the USS Abraham Lincoln left the Pacific for the Persian Gulf, China got exactly what it wanted:
American attention pulled away from Taiwan.

The Great Irony: China Is Now an Imperial Power Itself

China claims to oppose imperialism. Yet it now practices:

  • Debt‑trap colonialism through the Belt and Road Initiative
  • Resource extraction in Africa and Latin America
  • Military expansion in the South China Sea
  • Cultural domination in Tibet and Xinjiang
  • Surveillance exports to dictatorships

As Chen observes:

“What it is is actually a form of neo‑colonialism… just not in a very overt way.”

China’s anti‑imperialist rhetoric is not a principle. It is a propaganda tool masking its own imperial ambitions — and the Palestinian cause is one of its most effective instruments.

4. Why China Is Actively Promoting Anti‑Semitism

This is one of the most disturbing parts of the interview — and one of the least understood.

Chen explains that the flood of anti‑Semitic content on TikTok and other platforms is not organic. It is part of a deliberate strategy drawn from the PLA doctrine of “unrestricted warfare.”

“Anti‑Semitic content is part of an informational war.”
“The battlefield is not Gaza. The battlefield is the hearts and minds of young people in the West.”

China uses:

  • TikTok’s algorithm
  • Bot farms
  • State media in Arabic and English
  • Paid activist networks
  • CCP‑aligned NGOs

Why target Jews?

Because anti‑Semitism is a high‑yield wedge:

  • It fractures Western societies
  • It weakens support for Israel
  • It delegitimises the US‑Israel alliance
  • It radicalises young people against Western institutions
  • It fuels chaos — which China sees as strategic advantage

China doesn’t need to love Hamas. It only needs the West to tear itself apart.

5. Israel’s China Bet Has Backfired

For a decade, Israel courted China — ports, tech, agriculture, infrastructure. Netanyahu even called the relationship “a marriage made in heaven.”

October 7 ended that illusion.

China has shown:

  • It will not condemn Hamas
  • It will not support Israel’s right to self‑defence
  • It will protect Iran at every turn
  • It will use the Palestinian issue to weaken the West
  • It will amplify anti‑Semitism to destabilise democracies

Israel is now facing a strategic reality it did not prepare for.

Why This Matters

Israel’s security environment is no longer defined by Iran alone. It is shaped by a China–Iran axis that:

  • Funds Iran
  • Arms Iran
  • Protects Iran diplomatically
  • Enables Iran technologically
  • Amplifies anti‑Semitism to weaken Israel’s allies

This is not a regional problem. It is a global realignment — and Israel is on the front line.

Israel must now:

  • Reduce technological exposure to China
  • Limit Chinese access to critical infrastructure
  • Coordinate closely with the US on export controls
  • Harden itself against information warfare
  • Recognise that China’s rise is not neutral — it is adversarial

The era of hedging is over. The era of strategic clarity has begun.

Key Takeaways

  • China is Iran’s economic lifeline, buying over 80% of its oil and enabling sanctions evasion.
  • Chinese technology is embedded in Iran’s military and cyber capabilities, directly affecting Israel’s battlefield.
  • China’s support for the Palestinians is strategic, tied to its 2049 goal of replacing the US‑led world order.
  • China is actively promoting anti‑Semitism as part of an information‑warfare strategy to destabilise Western societies.
  • Israel’s decade‑long bet on China has backfired, and a new strategic posture is urgently needed.

About Melissa Chen

Melissa Chen is a Singaporean‑born journalist, commentator, and human‑rights advocate known for her work on free speech, civil liberties, and the global battle of ideas. She is the Managing Director of Ideas Beyond Borders, a nonprofit dedicated to translating and disseminating pro‑liberty works into Arabic, Farsi, and Kurdish to expand access to censored ideas. A former New York Editor of Spectator USA, Chen frequently appears across podcasts, conferences, and media platforms, offering analysis on authoritarianism, censorship, and the cultural forces shaping open societies.

About Haviv Rettig Gur

Haviv Rettig Gur is an Israeli journalist and senior political analyst at The Times of Israel, known for his deeply researched reporting on Israeli society, Jewish identity, and the evolving relationship between Israel and the Diaspora. Born in Jerusalem and raised partly in the United States, he served as a combat medic in the IDF before studying history and Jewish thought at the Hebrew University. His earlier career included years as the Jewish world correspondent for The Jerusalem Post and later as spokesman for the Jewish Agency. Gur’s work is widely respected for its clarity, historical grounding, and ability to illuminate the forces shaping contemporary Jewish life.

New Palestinian Constitution creates Apartheid state

PA President Mahmoud Abbas

Why Only One Side Gets the Apartheid Label

Israel is routinely accused of “apartheid” for defining itself as a Jewish state. Yet the proposed Palestinian Constitution openly defines a future Palestine as Arab, Islamic, and Sharia‑based — without a whisper of criticism from the same organisations. This double standard tells us more about the politics of the accusation than about the realities on the ground.

A Palestinian Constitution That Speaks Loudly — and Selectively

The Palestinian Authority’s new draft constitution is remarkably clear about the kind of state it intends to build. It doesn’t hide behind vague language or symbolic gestures. It spells out, in black and white, a national identity rooted in Arab ethnicity, Islamic religion, and Sharia‑based law.

Palestine is described as “part of the Arab homeland.”
The Palestinian people are “part of the Arab nation.”
Arabic is the only official language.

This is not a civic definition of citizenship. It is an ethnic one.

And the religious identity is just as explicit. Islam is the official religion, and Sharia is the primary source of legislation. Christianity is acknowledged; Judaism is not mentioned at all — not as a religion, not as a heritage, not as a protected minority.

For a document intended to guide a future state, the message is unmistakable:
This is an Arab and Islamic nation, constitutionally and structurally.

What Happens When We Apply HRW and Amnesty’s Own Standards?

Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International have both accused Israel of apartheid using definitions so broad that they sweep up identity clauses, language laws, immigration policies, and symbolic national character.

So let’s take those same criteria — the ones used to condemn Israel — and apply them to the Palestinian draft constitution.

Identity as Domination

HRW argues that Israel’s Basic Law (“Jewish state”) shows intent to privilege one group.
By that logic, defining Palestine as Arab and Islamic is the same thing.

Systematic Privilege

Amnesty treats language, religion, and national identity as tools of domination.
The Palestinian draft privileges Arabic, privileges Islam, and excludes Jewish identity entirely.

Legal Supremacy

Sharia as the primary source of legislation creates a built‑in hierarchy of religious communities.
Under Amnesty’s framework, that is a textbook example of legal supremacy.

Exclusion of Minorities

Israel is accused of apartheid despite full political rights for Arab citizens.
The Palestinian draft offers no political rights, protections, or recognition for any Jewish minority that might live under its authority.

By HRW and Amnesty’s own definitions, the Palestinian draft constitution meets — and in some areas exceeds — the criteria they use to condemn Israel.

So Why the Silence?

If the standards were applied consistently, both organisations would be sounding alarms. But they aren’t. And the reasons have nothing to do with law.

The Narrative Requires a Villain

Israel is cast as the settler‑colonial oppressor.
Palestinians are cast as the indigenous oppressed.
This framing leaves no room for Palestinian discrimination or exclusion.

Ideology Over Analysis

In activist discourse, “indigenous” groups cannot commit apartheid.
This is a political assumption, not a legal principle.

Diplomatic and Financial Incentives

Calling a future Palestinian state “apartheid” would strain relationships with Arab and Muslim-majority governments — and with donors.


It would also invite accusations of Islamophobia.

Selective Scrutiny Is Built In

HRW and Amnesty do not apply their apartheid framework to:


Arab states
Islamic republics
Countries with ethnic‑national identity clauses
Countries with discriminatory nationality laws

Only Israel is examined through this lens.

A One‑Way Accusation Is Not Justice

Israel is condemned as an apartheid state because it defines itself as Jewish — even though it grants full political rights to all its citizens.


A future Palestinian state is praised and supported even though it is defined as Arab, Islamic, and Sharia‑based, with no recognition of Jewish rights at all.

When the same standards are applied to one side and ignored for the other, the accusation stops being a moral judgment and becomes a political weapon.

And that is why the apartheid label, as used today, is not only wrong —
it is fundamentally unjust.

The Francesca Albanese Problem: How a UN Mandate Creates Controversy by Design

Francesca Albanese, the UN Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights in the Palestinian territories occupied since 1967, has become one of the most polarising figures in the UN system. Her public statements, especially since October 2023, have drawn sharp criticism from Israel, the United States, Germany, and other governments. Supporters praise her for speaking plainly about violations of international law; critics accuse her of overreach, partiality, and damaging the UN’s credibility.

But the deeper truth is this: the controversy around Albanese is not primarily about her personality or her politics. It is about a UN mandate that is structurally one‑directional, politically entrenched, and almost impossible to reform. She is operating exactly as the system was designed — and that design is what produces the tension.

Her most controversial statements

Albanese has made several high‑profile statements that triggered international backlash. The most contentious have been her repeated claims that Israel’s actions in Gaza amount to genocide or exhibit genocidal intent. This is especially sensitive because the International Court of Justice has not found Israel guilty of genocide; it has only ruled that South Africa’s claim is plausible enough to warrant provisional measures. Critics argue that Albanese’s language pre‑judges a legal question still before the Court. Supporters counter that her mandate requires her to assess violations as she sees them.

She has also accused Israel of practising apartheid, echoing the language used by several human rights organisations. But her most incendiary recent remark — describing Israel as “an enemy to humanity” — drew condemnation from multiple governments and UN member states. Critics argued that such language is incompatible with the restraint expected of someone widely perceived as a UN figure, even if technically she is not part of the UN bureaucracy. Supporters insisted she was speaking to the scale of civilian suffering and the obligations of international law.

She has further accused Western governments of enabling Israeli violations of international law, a framing that several states have condemned as politically inflammatory. And she has been criticised for not focusing on Hamas’s actions, including the 7 October attacks. Her response is consistent: the mandate does not authorise her to investigate Palestinian actors except insofar as they relate to Israel’s obligations as the occupying power.

Her communication style adds to the controversy. Albanese uses social media and public advocacy more actively than her predecessors, adopting a tone closer to activism than diplomacy. Whether one agrees with her or not, these statements have shaped her public profile — and they highlight the structural tension at the heart of her role.

How this mandate came about

To understand the controversy, it helps to understand the origins of the mandate itself. The Special Rapporteur on the OPT was created in 1993 by the UN Commission on Human Rights, at the height of the Oslo peace process. At the time, the international community believed a final settlement was within reach. The mandate was designed to monitor Israel’s conduct as the occupying power and assess compliance with international humanitarian and human rights law.

The one‑directional nature of the mandate made sense in that moment. Israel was the occupying power; occupation law places obligations primarily on the occupier; Palestinian governance structures were still emerging; and the Oslo process was expected to resolve the conflict within a few years. The mandate was never intended to be permanent.

But when Oslo collapsed, Hamas took control of Gaza, and Palestinian governance fragmented, the mandate did not evolve. It remained frozen in its 1993 form, even as the political and legal landscape changed dramatically. A mechanism designed for a transitional period became a permanent fixture — and that is the root of today’s structural problem.

What evidence she relies on — without ever entering the territory

Another source of controversy is the fact that Albanese has never visited Gaza, the West Bank, or Israel during her tenure. In fact, no Special Rapporteur has been allowed entry since 2008. Israel has denied access to every mandate‑holder for nearly two decades, including Richard Falk, Makarim Wibisono, Michael Lynk, and now Albanese.

This means that Albanese’s assessments are based entirely on secondary evidence, which is standard UN practice when access is denied. Her sources include:

  • Interviews with victims, witnesses, humanitarian workers, and journalists
  • Reports from un agencies operating on the ground (unrwa, ocha, who, unicef)
  • Satellite imagery and open‑source intelligence
  • Documentation from ngos such as human rights watch, amnesty international, b’tselem, and others
  • Verified media footage and geolocated videos
  • Legal submissions from states and experts
  • Decades of prior un findings and resolutions

This is how most UN human rights investigations operate when a state blocks access. But it also means her conclusions reflect her interpretation of evidence she cannot personally verify on the ground. That distinction is often lost in public debate, and it feeds the perception that her statements — including genocide, apartheid, and “enemy to humanity” — are not grounded in direct observation.

Why she is not required to be neutral

This is the point most often misunderstood by the public. Special Rapporteurs are not UN staff. They are independent experts, unpaid by the UN, and not representatives of the Secretary‑General. They are not bound by diplomatic neutrality. Their job is to investigate, assess, and report — not to mediate or balance competing narratives.

The mandate itself is explicitly one‑directional. It instructs the Rapporteur to examine Israel’s conduct as the occupying power. It does not instruct the Rapporteur to investigate Hamas, the Palestinian Authority, or Palestinian armed groups except in relation to Israel’s obligations. Impartiality, in this context, refers to method, not symmetry. The Rapporteur must apply international law consistently, but is not required to distribute criticism evenly.

This is why her reports — and those of her predecessors — appear one‑sided. The mandate itself is one‑sided.

How this affects the UN’s reputation

Here lies the core dilemma. The UN as an institution must be neutral and impartial. Special Rapporteurs are not required to be neutral or impartial. Most people do not understand the difference.

When Albanese makes strong statements — including calling Israel “an enemy to humanity” — many assume the UN itself is taking a position. Her statements are her own, not the UN’s institutional stance. But the reputational damage is real because the distinction between “UN official” and “independent expert” is not intuitive. The conflict is highly polarised, her rhetoric is unusually direct, and the mandate itself is structurally asymmetric. The result is a persistent perception that the UN is biased, even when the system is functioning exactly as designed.

How previous Rapporteurs handled the same tension

Every person who has held this mandate has faced the same structural problem. John Dugard was blunt and legalistic, emphasising that the mandate required one‑directional scrutiny. Richard Falk adopted an activist tone that generated significant controversy and was denied entry by Israel. Makarim Wibisono tried to soften the asymmetry but resigned when Israel refused him access, stating that the mandate prevented him from being impartial. Michael Lynk was more measured and academic, but still sharply critical of Israel. Albanese is more public and assertive than her predecessors, and her communication style amplifies the structural tension rather than softening it.

The pattern is clear: the controversy is built into the mandate, not the individual.

Why the mandate has never been rebalanced

Reforming the mandate would require a majority vote in the UN Human Rights Council. That has never happened — and likely never will. The Council is polarised, with a large bloc of states supporting the existing mandate. Western states criticise the mandate but rarely act, lacking the votes to change it. Israel does not engage with the process, viewing the HRC as biased. For many states, the mandate serves political purposes. The political cost of reform outweighs the benefit. The result is a mandate that persists by political inertia, not by design quality.

What could be done

Several theoretical reforms exist. The mandate could be rewritten to include all parties, though this is politically unlikely. A broader human rights mechanism could replace it, or a parallel mandate could be created to examine Palestinian authorities. The UN could also improve public communication, making clearer the distinction between institutional positions and independent expert opinions. Rapporteurs themselves could adopt more diplomatic communication styles, though that depends entirely on the individual.

Key Takeaway

Francesca Albanese is controversial, but she is not an anomaly. She is the predictable product of a mandate that is structurally asymmetric, politically entrenched, and widely misunderstood. Her statements — including her claim that Israel is “an enemy to humanity” — generate reputational tension for the UN not because she is violating the rules, but because the rules themselves create a clash between independent investigation and public expectations of neutrality. Until the mandate is rebalanced — or at least better explained — every future Rapporteur will face the same storm.

How NZ Really Makes Foreign Policy: A Sir Humphrey Analysis

Yes Prime Minister
Yes Prime Minister

Five minutes to read

What would Sir Humphrey Appleby say about NZ’s foreign policy regarding Israel? Few political comedies have aged as gracefully as Yes, Minister and Yes, Prime Minister. Decades after their original broadcast, the shows still feel uncomfortably current. Their satire works because the behaviours they lampoon — bureaucratic inertia, diplomatic hedging, the art of sounding principled while avoiding consequences — are not relics of the 1980s. They are structural features of government itself.

One episode in particular, A Victory for Democracy, has become a cult favourite among foreign‑policy watchers. In it, Sir Humphrey Appleby explains to Jim Hacker why Britain votes the way it does on Israel‑related resolutions at the United Nations. His explanation is a masterpiece of dry, bureaucratic cynicism: six “principles” that supposedly guide British diplomacy, each contradicting the others, yet all recognisable to anyone who has worked in or around government.

If you distil Sir Humphrey’s six principles, you end up with five deeper forces that still shape Western foreign policy today:

  • The pressure to maintain alliances
  • The fear of taking a clear stand
  • The comfort of precedent
  • The bureaucratic instinct to avoid blame
  • The use of moral language to mask pragmatic calculations

These forces are not unique to the UK. They are structural. And when you apply them to New Zealand’s foreign‑policy behaviour on Israel, the parallels are striking. One additional factor matters enormously for NZ: trade, which interacts with all five forces and often reinforces them.

Why New Zealand Aligns With the EU

It’s not that the EU’s foreign‑policy positions are uniquely wise. It’s that they offer New Zealand the lowest‑risk, highest‑cover, most diplomatically efficient path.

EU alignment gives NZ:

  • Diplomatic cover: NZ is never isolated at the UN.
  • A middle‑of‑the‑road Western stance: acceptable to the US, tolerable to Arab partners.
  • A legalistic, multilateral vocabulary: which fits MFAT’s institutional worldview.
  • Low political cost: the EU absorbs the heat; NZ quietly votes with them.
  • Trade protection: EU alignment avoids jeopardising markets in Europe or the Middle East.

For a small, export‑dependent state that values stability and predictability, EU alignment is the equilibrium point. It is the safest place to stand.

With that in mind, here is how the five structural forces — plus trade — shape NZ’s behaviour across the major Israel‑related issues.

Applying the Five‑Factor Framework to NZ’s Israel‑Related Positions

Israeli Settlements

  • Alliances: EU strongly opposes settlements; Arab partners expect opposition; US varies.
  • Fear of clarity: NZ condemns settlements but avoids leading or escalating.
  • Precedent: NZ has voted this way for decades.
  • Blame avoidance: Voting with the EU majority avoids isolation.
  • Moral language: “International law,” “illegality of settlements.”
  • Trade: Aligning with EU and Arab expectations protects key markets.

Jerusalem

  • Alliances: NZ rejects unilateral moves (e.g., US embassy shift) to stay aligned with EU and Arab states.
  • Fear of clarity: Avoids taking a position on sovereignty.
  • Precedent: NZ has never recognised Jerusalem as Israel’s capital.
  • Blame avoidance: Stays with overwhelming UN majority.
  • Moral language: “Final‑status negotiations.”
  • Trade: Avoiding offence to Arab markets is a major consideration.

UNRWA

  • Alliances: EU and Arab states strongly support UNRWA; US fluctuates.
  • Fear of clarity: NZ supports UNRWA but avoids controversy.
  • Precedent: Long history of support.
  • Blame avoidance: Supporting UNRWA avoids criticism from the Global South.
  • Moral language: “Humanitarian need.”
  • Trade: Supporting UNRWA aligns with Arab expectations, protecting export relationships.

Ceasefire Resolutions

  • Alliances: EU pushes; Arab states demand; US often resists.
  • Fear of clarity: NZ avoids assigning blame.
  • Precedent: NZ consistently supports ceasefires.
  • Blame avoidance: Votes with the majority.
  • Moral language: “Protection of civilians.”
  • Trade: Ceasefire support aligns with Arab partners’ expectations.

The Gaza War

  • Alliances: NZ balances EU criticism, US support, and Arab outrage.
  • Fear of clarity: Avoids legal judgments; uses cautious language.
  • Precedent: Follows past Gaza‑war patterns.
  • Blame avoidance: Avoids being an outlier.
  • Moral language: “Deep concern,” “restraint.”
  • Trade: Criticising humanitarian impacts without condemning Israel outright protects both Western and Middle Eastern relationships.

Hamas

  • Alliances: Western partners designate Hamas; Arab states differentiate.
  • Fear of clarity: NZ avoided full designation for years.
  • Precedent: Partial designation became the default.
  • Blame avoidance: Avoids appearing too soft or too hard.
  • Moral language: “Consistent with UN listings.”
  • Trade: Full designation risked alienating Arab partners.

Genocide Allegations

  • Alliances: Western partners avoid the term; Global South uses it.
  • Fear of clarity: NZ avoids the term entirely.
  • Precedent: NZ rarely uses “genocide” outside clear cases.
  • Blame avoidance: Avoids alienating any partner.
  • Moral language: “Impartial investigation.”
  • Trade: Avoiding inflammatory language protects relationships with both Israel’s allies and Arab markets.

Apartheid Allegations

  • Alliances: NGOs and some UN bodies use the term; Western states avoid it.
  • Fear of clarity: NZ avoids the term to prevent diplomatic fallout.
  • Precedent: NZ has never used it.
  • Blame avoidance: Avoids being the only Western adopter.
  • Moral language: “Human rights concerns.”
  • Trade: Using the term would jeopardise relationships with Western partners and risk backlash from Israel’s allies.

Two‑State Solution

  • Alliances: The only position acceptable to US, EU, Arab states, Israel, and the UN.
  • Fear of clarity: Avoids specifics on borders, refugees, Jerusalem.
  • Precedent: Deeply entrenched in NZ policy.
  • Blame avoidance: Universally safe fallback.
  • Moral language: “Just and lasting peace.”
  • Trade: Offends no one; protects all markets.

So What Does This All Mean?

Across all issues, a consistent pattern emerges. New Zealand’s Middle East policy is:

  • EU‑aligned
  • US‑sensitive
  • Arab‑market‑aware
  • Precedent‑driven
  • Risk‑averse
  • Morally framed but pragmatically executed

In other words, New Zealand behaves exactly like a small Western state trying to keep every partner slightly satisfied and none of them angry, while sounding principled throughout.

Sir Humphrey would recognise it instantly.

Call it what it was: Genocide

The atrocities committed by Hamas on October 7 were shocking not only in scale but in intent. Thousands of terrorists crossed into Israel, murdering families in their homes, burning civilians alive, kidnapping children and the elderly, and targeting entire communities because of who they were. As the world tried to absorb the horror, a difficult but necessary question emerged:  Do Hamas’s actions meet the legal definition of genocide?

The word “genocide” carries enormous weight, and international law defines it with precision. When the events of October 7 are viewed through the lens of the UN Genocide Convention, the picture that  emerges is disturbingly clear:  the attack fits the core elements of genocide.

What the Genocide Convention Says

The 1948 Convention defines genocide as acts committed with the intent to destroy, in whole or in part,
a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group. Jews fall into all three of those categories:
they are a religious group, an ethnic group, and in many contexts a national group.
That alone places them squarely within the Convention’s protected categories.

Targeting Jews as Jews

The October 7 attack was not a military operation. It was a deliberate assault on Jewish civilians: families in their homes, children in their bedrooms, elderly people in wheelchairs, festival‑goers at a music event, and entire kibbutzim that are overwhelmingly Jewish communities. The attackers did not distinguish between combatants and civilians. They sought out Jews specifically, killing them “as such,” which is the exact language of the Genocide Convention.

This isn’t just an interpretive claim. Leading genocide scholars and jurists have already described the attack in these terms.

Leading genocide scholars and jurists have already described the October 7 attack in terms consistent with genocidal intent.

Gregory Stanton, founder of Genocide Watch, stated that “Hamas’s attack was genocidal. They targeted Jews because they were Jews.” Source: Stanton interview with The Jerusalem Post, 12 Oct 2023; Genocide Watch public statement, Oct 2023.

Irwin Cotler, former Canadian Justice Minister and a leading human‑rights jurist, wrote that the atrocities “bear the hallmarks of genocidal intent” and reflect Hamas’s “genocidal antisemitism.” Source: Irwin Cotler, Times of Israel, 15 Oct 2023; Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs briefing, Oct 2023.

William Schabas, one of the most cited genocide‑law scholars, explained that if the intent to destroy Jews as such—even in part—is established, then the acts of October 7 fall within the legal definition of genocide. Source: William Schabas interview with Haaretz, 20 Oct 2023; Schabas commentary in JusticeInfo, Nov 2023.

David Scheffer, the first U.S. Ambassador‑at‑Large for War Crimes, similarly noted that the deliberate killing of Jewish civilians by Hamas can constitute genocidal acts, provided that the requisite intent to destroy the group is demonstrated. Source: Scheffer interview with PBS NewsHour, 18 Oct 2023; Scheffer analysis in Just Security, Oct 2023.

Yehuda Bauer, one of the most respected Holocaust and genocide scholars alive, was even more direct: “Hamas’s ideology is genocidal, and October 7 was an expression of that ideology.” Source: Bauer interview with Ynet, 22 Oct 2023; Bauer remarks at Hebrew University panel, Nov 2023.

Aharon Barak, former President of Israel’s Supreme Court and a judge at the International Criminal Court, stated that Hamas’s attack was aimed at Jews as Jews, which he described as the essence of genocidal intent. Source: Barak interview with Der Spiegel, 27 Oct 2023; Barak remarks in ICC press briefing, Nov 2023.

These are not political commentators. They are among the most authoritative voices in international law and genocide studies.

Genocidal Acts in Practice

The Genocide Convention lists specific acts that qualify when paired with genocidal intent. Hamas’s actions match several of them: killing members of the group, causing serious bodily and mental harm, and forcibly transferring children through hostage‑taking. International tribunals have repeatedly held that targeting a geographic subset of a protected group — such as Jews in southern Israel — still qualifies as genocide “in part.”

The pattern on October 7 resembles other cases where courts have found genocide, such as Srebrenica in 1995 and ISIS’s attacks on the Yazidis in 2014. In both examples, the perpetrators did not attempt to wipe out the entire group globally — only a part of it. Yet courts still ruled the acts genocidal. The same legal logic applies to Hamas.

Sometimes people mix up being deliberate with intent. 

Under the Genocide Convention, being deliberate is not the same as the legal requirement of intent (specifically genocidal intent, or dolus specialis). The Convention requires a very specific, purpose‑based intent to destroy a protected group — far beyond merely acting deliberately or foreseeably.
 

Why This Matters

Calling something “genocide” is not about rhetoric. It is about accurately naming the crime, understanding the intent behind the violence, recognizing the vulnerability of the targeted group, and clarifying the obligations of the international community. If the October 7 attack meets the definition —  and the evidence strongly suggests it does — then the world has a responsibility to acknowledge it.

A Final Reflection

The Genocide Convention sets a high bar, but Hamas’s actions on October 7 meet its core criteria. The victims were a protected group. They were targeted because of their identity. The acts committed — mass killing, torture, hostage‑taking, and the targeting of children — are explicitly listed as genocidal acts. And Hamas’s own ideology and statements demonstrate intent to destroy Jews, at least in part.

Whether international courts ultimately rule on this is a separate question. But from a legal and moral standpoint, the October 7 massacre fits the definition of genocide far more clearly than many historical cases that have been recognized as such.

Australia’s Hate‑Speech Debate and the Lessons Hidden in History

Australia Prime Minister Anthony Albanese has authorised a Royal Commission in the aftermath of the Bondi Massacre. The Bondi Massacre has renewed calls for Hate-Speech Laws to be passed.

Australia’s renewed push to strengthen hate‑speech laws, after the Bondi Massacre, has stirred up a familiar conversation across the Tasman. Whenever one democracy tightens the boundaries of acceptable speech, its neighbours inevitably ask themselves the same questions: What exactly are we trying to prevent? Do these laws work? And how do we avoid repeating the mistakes of the past?

To answer those questions, it helps to step back and look at the long, winding history of how societies have tried to regulate dangerous speech — from medieval blasphemy laws to modern hate‑speech statutes — and how New Zealand found itself wrestling with these issues in recent years.

Before “Hate Speech”: The Era of Proto‑Laws

Long before anyone coined the phrase “hate speech,” societies were already policing words. But the targets were very different from today.

Early speech restrictions were designed to protect the powerful, not the vulnerable. Medieval and early‑modern Europe punished blasphemy, heresy, and insults to monarchs. Sedition laws protected the state. Public‑order laws punished speech that threatened stability. These weren’t hate‑speech laws — but they were the ancestors of modern speech regulation. They recognised that words could inflame, destabilise, or provoke violence.

They were, in a sense, proto–hate speech laws: early attempts to control dangerous expression, but aimed at shielding institutions and dominant religions rather than minority communities.

Weimar Germany: A Warning From the Middle Ground

By the early 20th century, democracies began experimenting with laws that looked closer to what we recognise today. The Weimar Republic had statutes against inciting hatred, insulting religious communities, and spreading inflammatory propaganda. These laws were used — sporadically — against Hitler and the Nazi Party.

But they were weak, inconsistently enforced, and applied by courts often sympathetic to nationalist rhetoric. They failed not because the idea of regulating incitement was flawed, but because the state enforcing them was collapsing.

This failure became a turning point. After the war, the world understood that propaganda and dehumanising rhetoric weren’t abstract harms — they were precursors to genocide.

After the Holocaust: The Birth of Modern Hate‑Speech Law

Modern hate‑speech laws are a post‑WWII creation. Germany led the way with strict bans on Nazi symbols, Holocaust denial, and incitement against groups. These laws influenced the European Convention on Human Rights, UN anti‑racism conventions, and the frameworks adopted by Canada, the UK, and others.

For the first time, speech regulation was designed to protect vulnerable minorities, not the state or the dominant religion. The moral logic was clear: if hateful propaganda helped pave the road to genocide, democracies had a duty to intervene earlier.

But even with this moral clarity, the practical challenges remained.

The Drafting Dilemma: Why Hate‑Speech Laws Are So Hard to Get Right

Even supporters of hate‑speech laws acknowledge the same recurring problems.

Definitions are slippery.
Words like “hatred,” “insult,” and “hostility” are subjective. What one person sees as critique, another sees as bigotry.

Enforcement can become political.
Police and courts must interpret emotional concepts. That opens the door to inconsistency — or misuse.

Ideas are not people.
Laws should protect individuals from harm, not shield belief systems from criticism. When religion becomes a protected category, the line between hate‑speech law and blasphemy law can blur quickly.

Effectiveness is mixed.
Countries with strong hate‑speech laws still experience rising extremism. The laws can reduce public displays of hate, but they rarely change underlying prejudice.

These tensions are exactly what Australia is grappling with now — and what New Zealand confronted recently.

New Zealand’s High‑Threshold Approach

New Zealand has some of the narrowest hate‑speech laws in the democratic world. Under the Human Rights Act 1993, only racial incitement is covered. The threshold is high: the speech must be threatening, abusive, or insulting and likely to incite hostility or contempt.

Religion, gender, sexuality, disability, and political belief are not included. Most offensive or hateful speech is not illegal unless it crosses into threats, harassment, or incitement to violence — all of which are already covered by the Crimes Act and other statutes.

This approach reflects a strong cultural preference for free expression and a reluctance to criminalise attitudes rather than actions.

The Push to Add Religion — And Why It Backfired

After the Christchurch mosque attacks, the Royal Commission recommended expanding hate‑speech protections to include religion. The government proposed amending the Human Rights Act so that “insulting” or “hostile” speech about religious groups could become a criminal offence.

The reaction was swift and intense.

Critics warned that criminalising “insults” to religion risked creating a de facto blasphemy law — just two years after New Zealand had formally repealed its old blasphemy offence. The concern wasn’t abstract. Around the world, laws protecting religion from “insult” have been used to:

  • Suppress theological disagreement
  • Silence ex‑believers
  • Chill academic study of comparative religion
  • Shield harmful practices from scrutiny
  • Protect ideas instead of people

Public submissions overwhelmingly argued that the proposal would undermine open debate, academic freedom, and the ability to challenge belief systems — all essential in a pluralistic society.

In the end, the Law Commission declined to include hate‑speech reform in its work programme, and the government withdrew the proposal entirely.

What Australia Can Learn From New Zealand’s Experience

Australia’s debate is unfolding in a global context where hate‑speech laws are common but their effectiveness is mixed. The New Zealand experience offers a quiet but important lesson: even well‑intentioned reforms can stumble when they risk suppressing legitimate debate, especially around religion.

The challenge is not whether to protect vulnerable communities — everyone agrees on that. The challenge is how to do it without sliding back into the old pattern of protecting belief systems from criticism, the very thing modern democracies have spent decades moving away from.

If Australia wants to avoid repeating history — both ancient and modern — it will need to draft with extraordinary care, clear thresholds, and a firm commitment to protecting people rather than ideas.

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NZFOI Newsletter 202602
NZFOI Newsletter 202602

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