Author: Iqra Bano Sohail

Something unusual happened in September. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu admitted that Israel “finds itself in a kind of international isolation.” For a leader who has built his career on dismissing outside criticism, this was a rare moment of candor. Speaking at an economic forum in Jerusalem, he acknowledged that Israel’s war in Gaza has left it increasingly cut off diplomatically, economically, and even in terms of arms imports. The solution, he argued, was for Israel to become more self reliant, likening the country to a mix of “Athens and super Sparta.”

Why does this matter? Because for decades, Israel has shrugged off resolutions, rulings, and investigations under international law. UN condemnations were dismissed as politics. Humanitarian law experts were accused of bias. Arrest warrants by the International Criminal Court (ICC) were brushed aside under the protection of powerful allies. On the surface, international law seems to be crippling.

But the story doesn’t end there. What Netanyahu’s words reveal is that the power of law doesn’t always show up in courtrooms or in dramatic moments of enforcement. Instead, it seeps slowly into the political, economic, and diplomatic environment that States operate in. Over time, that environment shifts and so do the costs of non-compliance.

Take arms restrictions for example. Spain and Italy have already halted exports of key military components to Israel, citing concerns about humanitarian law. Other countries are quietly reviewing contracts or limiting cooperation. These are not UN mandated sanctions, but they are consequences shaped by the language and expectations of international law. When governments decide they cannot be complicit in potential war crimes, it affects supply chains, slows weapons deliveries, and forces Israel to rethink its reliance on global markets. Netanyahu’s call for self reliance is an admission that those ripple effects are real.

Diplomatic pressure tells a similar story. International law rests on principles like State responsibility which are rules designed to protect civilians and limit force. Israel disputes the accusations that it has breached these standards, but the repeated invocation of these norms has reshaped global perception. What once looked like routine condemnation has hardened into a narrative of illegality. And narratives matter. They frame alliances, influence public opinion, and drive how governments engage with Israel.

Here’s the irony: Netanyahu blames rivals like China and Qatar for pushing a “global narrative” against Israel. But that narrative exists because international law has supplied the vocabulary “occupation”, “disproportionate force”, “crimes against humanity”. These words are not propaganda, they are legal terms. Over decades, they have built the lens through which Israel’s actions are now judged.

And then there are the economic consequences. Restrictions on arms imports and technology transfers complicate Israel’s access to critical resources. These measures are rarely couched as “legal sanctions,” yet they flow from a shared discomfort with Israel’s record under international law. In other words, law provides the moral and political legitimacy that makes these economic choices possible.

This doesn’t mean international law is suddenly “working” in the way many would hope. It hasn’t stopped the bombs from falling or delivered justice to victims in real time. The gap between law and enforcement still remains wide. But what it does mean is that law’s influence is cumulative as it alters the strategic calculus of even the most defiant States.

That is why Netanyahu’s statement is significant. It validates the idea that international law’s greatest strength lies not in dramatic interventions but in its ability to impose long term costs. Israel is not isolated simply because of shifting geopolitics or hostile propaganda. It is isolated because the world increasingly views its conduct as unlawful, and that perception, rooted in decades of legal argument and documentation, now carries political and economic weight.

So what should the world take from this? First, that dismissing international law as irrelevant misses the point. Its victories rather than being dramatic are durable. Second, that investing in legal institutions and accountability mechanisms remains worthwhile, even when they seem powerless. Without the steady pressure of law, there would be no vocabulary of illegality, no framework for diplomatic consequences, and no legitimacy behind economic restrictions.

Israel’s case illustrates a paradox: international law may falter in preventing immediate violations, yet it shapes the environment in ways that no State can ultimately ignore. Netanyahu’s rare candor is proof of that. For all its flaws, international law remains a force that reshapes legitimacy, alliances, and opportunities over time. Its victories are not loud, but they are lasting.