A year has passed since Operation Al-Aqsa Flood ushered in a new era in the Israeli-Hamas conflict. The attack of 7 October 2023 was not an isolated act of terror, but a planned act of war carried out on the territory of the State of Israel for the first time since its foundation. Although it may well be asymmetrical – as is the case in a war between a state and a terrorist group (Hamas is only one of the terrorist groups operating in the area) – it was an act of war with innocent victims and the taking of Israeli citizens as hostages, which made all subsequent mediation attempts ineffective.
By acting in violation of the rules of war, Hamas fighters made a military target of civilians, thus causing the Israeli military to retaliate. This action is recognised in international law, which stipulates and regulates it, above all through the criterion of proportionality, inherent to legitimate defence. But in this case, too, the civilian population was turned into a military target, disregarding the principle of distinction that governs all military operations.
In view of these facts, while the war fronts have left us bracing for unforeseeable developments, the broken rules, the inconsistencies and the resulting changes are already manifest. Suffice it to mention the hostages, used as human shields and instruments to secure unfathomable gains, while the failure to release them is the cause of pressure from Israeli public opinion on the government, pitting humanity against military considerations.
The Gaza Strip, where Hamas had established itself as a de facto reality, has been almost completely destroyed, with more than 40,000 dead. With exit routes blocked and emergency aid scarcely allowed in, Palestinians can only catch glimpses of the various indications of humanitarian corridors provided by the occupation army on a daily basis. Moreover, in the absence of the order typical of any war, the Israeli settlers in the West Bank are expanding their occupying presence and forcibly dispossessing the Palestinians of their territories, their affections and their ties. How distant is the preamble to the 1993 Oslo Accords, in which Israelis and Palestinians agreed “that it is time to put an end to decades of confrontation and conflict, to recognise their mutual legitimate and political rights, and to strive to live in peaceful coexistence and mutual dignity and security.” Everything is scrapped concerning authority other than power and arms: reconciliation processes, territorial delimitation and cooperation for a peace capable of stabilising the Middle East region.
Meanwhile, Israeli troops entered Beirut, penetrating into the sovereign space of another state, Lebanon, which international terminology has hastily dubbed a “failed state“, perhaps to avoid having to define the aggressor and the aggressed, as was clearly done in the case of Russia-invaded Ukraine. In the Land of the Cedars, Israel has shown a determined will to secure its northern borders by attacking the headquarters and ultimately the leaders of Hezbollah, the implementer of Iran’s extraterritorial interests in the Middle East. This has forced the regime of the ayatollahs to make its presence felt in the conflict. On another front, the Israeli military is fighting the Houthis in Yemen, as seen in the recent attack on the Yemeni coastal city of Hodeidah.
Given this scenario, it’s hard to imagine, a year later, the retaliatory action provided for by international law after the attack of 7 October 2023. On the contrary, the facts point to a desire to rethink and reshape the situation in the Middle East region by means of well-considered and non-isolated decisions. Indeed, this scenario affects not only the regional players but also others, starting with those who would appear to be mere spectators. After all, in the division of the Islamic world between Shiites and Sunnis – which was not as evident in the Arab reactions to the birth of the State of Israel in 1948 as it is today – it may be advantageous for some external players to intervene in a latent but not harmless conflict in order to stabilise the region. Moreover, the cessation, however temporary, of terrorist forces and combatant groups allows other actors to deal with their domestic situations, be it national elections or economic relations. There is also no shortage of countries using conflict scenarios to mask economic crises and disrupt institutional order.
These activities and actions may resemble the last page of a book, but for the Middle East chessboard, for centuries the cradle of world affairs, they signal a new order that has already been set in motion. Barring unlikely changes, the notion of “two peoples, two states” is doomed to remain in the textbooks of diplomatic history, with the consequent Palestinian diaspora. It will not be easy for a people whose identity, history and desire for self-determination have been crushed. The image of the Kurds suffering a similar fate is not that distant.
Similarly, the Lebanese experience, where the encounter of religious faiths resulted in a unique institutional arrangement that held together Christians, Muslims and Druze, without forgetting the underlying diversity of beliefs and thought, can be said to be a thing of the past.
The Christian communities and the ancient churches of the region are in serious danger of disappearing as a result of the abandonment of territories that began years ago, demographic trends and geopolitical and religious balances. This risk is reflected in the fate of religious sites and buildings, which are an image of faith lived and an expression of identity – not an artistic heritage.
7 October is a date that has not only altered, for the umpteenth time, the reality of a territory that has always been a nerve centre of international relations. Above all, it affected the scope of international law. The humanisation of war – a paradoxical yet meaningful phrase, especially in the face of an agenda that gives exclusive power to weapons – is a distant prospect. And while all ongoing armed conflicts have demonstrated the extent to which even the most basic rules of warfare, starting with the protection of civilians, have become obsolete, this reality is amplified in the Middle East. There, the intertwining of territorial and extraterritorial ambitions, the presence of multiple unconventional actors, terrorism and its strategies, and religious diversity and its contrasts are a nightmare of aggravating factors.
The question is how all this is reflected in the diplomacy of the world’s east and west, north and south. The UN’s distinctive forum has recently been a case in point. It has gone from being a symbol of global security to a platform for declarations on the resolve to use power in its various forms: military, economic, political, religious…. And so, at the General Assembly, the Heads of State and Government, called upon to discuss the Declaration and the Plan of Action for the Future, distanced themselves from the issue and instead demonstrated their willingness to give more space to a multilateralism of national interests. This is the only way to define an understanding of diplomacy which, while denouncing non-compliance with the rules, has no interest in opposing violations or devising new rules. It also ignores all the instruments and institutions that have been created over the years.
This is probably the result of a general focus on the redefinition of roles and territorial balances, under the illusion of guaranteeing security through the use of force and the deterrence of weapons, ignoring the desire for peace that rises from every corner of the globe.
(*) Professor of International Law at the Pontifical Lateran University
