Defending Justice

The Inception of International Defense - An Interview with Dr. Mark S. Ellis

The Inception of International Defense

An Interview with Dr. Mark S. Ellis

Edited by Emma Bakkum & Paul Williams

A Note on Defending Justice

This blog is part of the Defending Justice series, an initiative of the Public International Law & Policy Group (PILPG) to promote an eclectic array of voices within the field of international criminal law. 

As part of our broader efforts to strengthen institutions of justice, this series seeks to create space for dialogue around the varied perspectives and concerns that shape these institutions. With that aim in mind, we interviewed a series of defense practitioners working in international criminal law and distilled their experiences and insights into a series of first-person blogs, preserving the spirit and voice of those interviews.

Editor’s Note

This blog delves into the origins and evolution of the work of defense counsel before international criminal tribunals. It presents the reflections of Dr. Mark Ellis, based on his extensive experience providing assistance to the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), his active involvement in the Saddam Hussein trial in Iraq, the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC), and the International Criminal Court (ICC), and his service as Executive Director of the International Bar Association (IBA). Through the examination of key defense developments, including the financial remuneration of defense counsel, assigning and selecting defense counsel, defense counsel ethics, and the role of bar associations, this blog traces the evolution of the defense counsel’s role in international criminal law, showcasing how defense contributions have shaped the fabric of international justice. Starting at the formative days of defense at the ICTY, including in the landmark Tadić case, the blog presents first-hand accounts of the key challenges and milestones faced by defense counsel appearing before the ICTY and beyond, illuminating key developments of the defense at international criminal tribunals, and laying the foundation for understanding the broader international justice system.

Introduction

While the idea of international criminal justice institutions dates back to the aftermath of the First World War, it was only after the Second World War that the first international criminal courts, the Nuremberg and Tokyo International Military Tribunals, were established, aimed to address war crimes, crimes against peace, and crimes against humanity committed during the war. These tribunals laid the groundwork for future international criminal justice mechanisms. Large-scale atrocities committed in the former Yugoslavia and in Rwanda in the 1990s led to the establishment of two ad hoc international tribunals (the ICTY and the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda; ICTR), set up by the United Nations in 1993 and 1994, respectively. Following the ad hoc international tribunals, the international community experimented with other formats: hybrid courts, such as the Special Court for Sierra Leone (2000) and the Special Tribunal for Lebanon (2007); and special or extraordinary chambers embedded within national systems, like the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts in Cambodia (2003) and the Special Panel for Serious Crimes in East Timor (2002).

Meanwhile, discussions of an independent international criminal tribunal emerged after both world wars, but became more realistic with the end of the Cold War, when the easing of geopolitical tensions fostered renewed multilateralism and revived the international community’s concern with impunity. Several rounds of negotiations culminated in the adoption of the Rome Statute, the founding treaty of the International Criminal Court (ICC), in July 1998. The Statute entered into force on July 1, 2002, after 60 countries ratified it. The ICC became the first treaty-based, permanent international criminal court to help fight impunity by investigating and, where warranted, prosecuting individuals charged with the gravest crimes of concern to the international community: genocide, war crimes, crimes against humanity, and the crime of aggression.

I have been involved in the field of international criminal justice since 1995. My journey into defense work started at the ICTY and in the Tadić case. Thirty-six years ago, Justice Richard J. Goldstone, the founding Chief Prosecutor of the ICTY, set out the importance of Tadić receiving a fair trial and a proper defense. That principle has been the north star throughout my career in international law, including ensuring that fair trial rights, through adequate and effective defense, remain central in international and domestic criminal trials. 

Following the Tadić case, I have served in several positions advising on high-profile international criminal processes. I served as Legal Advisor to the Independent International Commission on Kosovo, chaired by Justice Goldstone. I was appointed by the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) to advise on the creation of Serbia’s War Crimes Tribunal. I was involved with the Iraqi High Tribunal and acted as legal consultant to the defense team of Nuon Chea at the ECCC. In 2000, I was appointed Chair of the Advisory Panel of the ICTY. In 2013, I was admitted to the List of Assistants to Counsel of the ICC. In 2015, I also served as Chair of the UN-created Advisory Panel on Matters Relating to Defense Counsel of the International Residual Mechanism for Criminal Tribunals (previously the ICTY and ICTR).

I currently serve as the Executive Director of the International Bar Association (IBA), leading the foremost international organization of bar associations, law firms, and individual lawyers. My current focus is specifically on the IBA’s assistance to Ukraine, which includes legal support for war crimes accountability, technical assistance and capacity-building for judicial institutions, and support for justice reform and reconstruction efforts. In addition, I serve as an advisor to the ICC on sanctions issues. Prior to joining the IBA, I served for ten years as the Executive Director of the Central European and Eurasian Law Initiative (CEELI), a project of the American Bar Association (ABA). As part of this initiative, I provided technical legal assistance to twenty-eight countries in Central Europe and the former Soviet Union, as well as to the ICTY in The Hague. To this day, CEELI remains one of the most extensive international pro bono legal assistance projects ever undertaken by the US legal community. 

Throughout these experiences, I witnessed the role of defense counsel grow in importance over time. As international criminal cases became more complex, the overall organizational structure for international defense improved significantly and financial support increased. Challenges invariably remain. Nevertheless, the evolution of international defense since the early years of the ICTY is remarkable and yields critical lessons for the way forward. 

Early Years at the ICTY: The Tadić Case

The International Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia

The ICTY was established in 1993 in response to the conflicts in the former Yugoslavia in the 1990s, specifically the mass atrocities taking place in Bosnia and Herzegovina and Croatia. I lived in the former Yugoslavia from 1985 to 1988, having been awarded a Fulbright Scholarship.

Reports of horrendous crimes, including the killing and wounding of thousands of civilians, torture, sexual abuse, and forced displacement, led to global outrage and prompted the UN Security Council to act. In accordance with Chapter VII of the UN Charter, the UN Security Council established the ICTY in May 1993. The ICTY was the first ever international criminal tribunal established by the UN, and the first international war crimes tribunal since the Nuremberg and Tokyo tribunals. 

Based in The Hague, The Netherlands, the ICTY’s mandate was to prosecute those individuals most responsible for serious international crimes such as murder, torture, rape, enslavement, destruction of property, and other crimes listed in the Tribunal’s Statute, committed in the former Yugoslavia since 1991. By bringing perpetrators to trial, the ICTY aimed to deter future crimes and render justice to thousands of victims and their families, thus contributing to a lasting peace in the former Yugoslavia.

Throughout its operation, the ICTY indicted 161 persons; all cases were completed by the time the Tribunal closed in 2017. The ICTY indicted heads of state, prime ministers, army chiefs of staff, interior ministers, and many other high- and mid-level political, military, and police leaders from various parties to the Yugoslav conflicts. The ICTY transformed the landscape of international humanitarian and criminal law by establishing groundbreaking legal precedents, expanding the scope of international criminal accountability, and reinforcing the principle that no one is above the law.

The ICTY officially closed its offices on December 31, 2017. The International Residual Mechanism for Criminal Tribunals (IRMCT), created by the UN Security Council in December 2010, assumed responsibility for a number of essential functions previously carried out by the ICTY and ICTR (which had closed in 2015). In doing so, the IRMCT maintains the legacies of the pioneering ad hoc international criminal tribunals and aims to reflect best practices in international criminal justice. In 2024, the IRMCT reported on a historic turning point for the Mechanism with the conclusion of all core crimes cases and fugitive tracking.

The closing of the ICTY as a standalone institution and the recent reduced activity of the IRMCT mark the end of a period in international criminal justice shaped by the ad hoc tribunals, which also transformed the landscape of international defense work. The end of the ICTY experiment calls for a reflection on the formative days of the role of defense counsel.

The Start of Defense Counsel at the ICTY

The ICTY website highlights the crucial role of defense counsel: “a competent defense upholds equality of arms between the Prosecution and the Defense, thereby ensuring the fairness of the proceedings.” Interestingly, defense lawyers were not directly involved in the creation of the ICTY. Their role only became integral during the development of the ICTY’s Statute and Rules of Procedure and Evidence. From that moment, it became clear that defense attorneys would be critical to the Tribunal’s success. 
However, defense counsel faced several challenges in the early years of the ICTY. When the ICTY became operational, it had no defendants. The true catalysts for defense came from the first case at the Tribunal: the Tadić case. Duško Tadić, a Bosnian Serb and President of the Local Board of the Serb Democratic Party in Kozarac, was accused of participating in crimes committed against Bosnian Muslims and Croats in the Prijedor region of Bosnia and Herzegovina during the war in the early 1990s. He was accused of crimes involving the abuse and torture of detainees in concentration camps. Tadić faced multiple charges, including crimes against humanity, grave breaches of the Geneva Conventions, and violations of the laws and customs of war. In 1997, after a total of 79 trial days, Tadić was convicted of wilful killing, torture or inhuman treatment, and murder. The Trial Chamber found, among others, that Tadić participated in the collection and forced transfer of civilians to detention camps, the killing of two Muslim policemen, and the participation in the killings of five men. He was sentenced to 20 years in prison.

The Tadić case was remarkable in numerous ways. Not since the international military tribunals established in Nuremberg and Tokyo after World War II had perpetrators been held accountable for international crimes before an international tribunal. The case set important legal precedent in international criminal law, including by providing definitions of war crimes and crimes against humanity, by expanding the scope of war crimes that could be prosecuted at the international level, and by contributing to the principle of command responsibility, which says individuals in positions of authority can be held accountable for actions of subordinates if certain elements are proven.

Once Tadić was transferred to The Hague, a crucial yet unclear question was the engagement of defense lawyers. As the first indigent defendant in a modern international criminal law trial, Tadić’s attorneys were assigned, which was the first time the Registry had to do so.

A year before the start of Tadić’s trial, I traveled to The Hague for a meeting with Justice Richard J. Goldstone. Justice Goldstone was a prominent South African judge and the first Chief Prosecutor for the ICTY and ICTR. At this point, he was setting up the prosecution offices for these pioneering tribunals, in which he played an instrumental role. During the meeting, I offered CEELI’s full support to the new Prosecutor in his first trial. Justice Goldstone, however, wanted me to assist with training the defense teams. Justice Goldstone recognized the importance of the fairness of the proceedings and was concerned that the defense did not have sufficient resources. He once noted during an address: “There is no question that history will judge the Tribunals for the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda on the fairness or unfairness of their proceedings. Whether there are convictions or whether there are acquittals will not be the yardstick. The measure is going to be the fairness of the proceedings.” 

I agreed to assist with training the defense teams. It is a credit to Justice Goldstone that, as the Prosecutor, he sought to ensure the defense had sufficient support and resources. I fully leaned into ensuring that defense had the resources to provide effective representation for suspects and the accused.

Tadić’s Defense Team and Initial Challenges

Defense Team Structure

I became convinced that the best approach to the defense was to assemble a diverse team of international and local (co-)counsel. This naturally creates the strongest team. When the Tadić trial started, the selection process for counsel at the ICTY was included in the original 1994 Directive on Assignment of Defense Counsel and was relatively straightforward. An attorney had to meet several requirements, including being admitted to a state bar or being a law professor, and having fluency in one of the Court’s working languages (French or English).

The initial counsel of Tadić were not schooled in the common law system. Partly because the ICTY was based in The Hague, some of the early defense counsel were, in fact, Dutch. Professor Michail Wladimiroff, one of the Netherlands’ most respected criminal lawyers, was assigned as lead counsel for Mr. Tadić. Mr. Wladimiroff had impeccable credentials. He selected Alphons Orie, another superb lawyer, as his co-counsel, who later became a respected judge with the ICTY. 

I spoke to John Heffernan, director of the Coalition for International Justice, and we decided to initiate a training program for both Wladimiroff and Orie. I reached out to a good friend in the US, Joe Jones, who was a well known criminal lawyer. In turn, he suggested another American criminal lawyer, Carol Bruce, and a UK barrister, Steven Kay KC, a leading English barrister, to join the training team. With the assistance of another great American lawyer, Alain Norman, we created an extensive week-long training seminar focused on adversarial techniques, recognizing that the ICTY’s procedures and practices would lean heavily on common law traditions. The training seminar took place at the Peace Palace – a stunning building in the heart of The Hague and the home of the International Court of Justice (ICJ). Because Wladimiroff was recovering from a back injury, we trained Orie in the Palace and Wladimiroff at his home while he was in bed! Both of them quickly picked up cross-examination techniques. However, they also recognized their own lack of experience in an adversarial trial. Thus, it was felt that it was essential to add a common law barrister to the defense team.
At the end of the training week, I visited the ICTY’s Registrar, Dorothée de Sampayo, and asked that a common law barrister be added to the team. I had earlier sought Justice Goldstone’s approval. One of the arguments I made was that at the time, the prosecution trial team had a mix of five Australian/US counsel, and there was a need for “equality of arms” (see below on equality of arms). To her credit, the Registrar agreed, and Stephen Kay was added to the defense team. Mr. Kay even agreed to take a substantial reduction in his fee. Another talented UK barrister, Sylvia de Bertodano, had recently completed her pupillage at the English bar and joined earlier as an assistant to the Dutch lawyers. Immediately, Mr. Kay took responsibility for cross-examining witnesses, while Mr. Wladimiroff and Mr. Orie continued to direct the overall case and advance arguments. 

Additionally, since the start of the ICTY, a transformation occurred in which lawyers from conflict situations joined the defense team. This has generally been a positive development. However, for the Tadić trial, the Serbian lawyers that Tadić had added to his team on his own were not working out. Consequently, Mr. Wladimiroff and Mr. Kay worked to have all of them removed from the team, which Tadić agreed to. While the skills used in a domestic criminal case are obviously relevant, they do not necessarily include the legal background required for a complex international war crimes case. Back then, the average attorney simply was not schooled in this practice. 

Because of the ICTY’s elaborate Rules of Procedure and Evidence, as well as its numerous directives, these attorneys found themselves unfamiliar with the ICTY and its procedures. However, the team did utilize local investigators, including Tadić’s brother and another local – Dragan Petrovoc, who had worked with a documentary crew and “fixer” in the local Yugoslav region.

The overall solution in the Tadić case was to blend co-counsel familiar with common law and civil law, with both having experience in international criminal law. Each brought his or her own unique expertise and experience. Had a common law lawyer not been added to the Tadić defense team, the trial would have been viewed entirely differently. The Wladimiroff/Orie/Kay defense team approach became the paradigm for international war crime tribunals.

Equality of Arms

Ensuring the basic tenets of a fair trial remain crucial at international criminal tribunals. The principle of equality of arms between the prosecution and the accused goes to the heart of the right to a fair trial. The importance of defense rights is premised on the equality of arms principle. This was a pivotal issue during the Tadić trial, and the trial influenced the interpretation and application of the principle of equality of arms in international criminal proceedings.

Equality of arms is not just achieved through the assignment of defense counsel. The defense teams at the ICTY faced serious challenges due to insufficient resources. The resources available to defendants, both in preparation for and during a trial, are fundamental to justice through due process. 

For instance, low remuneration for defense lawyers and limited support for their travel and witness interviews are relevant examples. In fact, the defense counsel for Mr. Tadić argued that there was no equality of arms between the prosecution and the defense at trial, which seriously affected the preparation of the case and therefore frustrated the right to a fair trial. The inability to gain access to evidence and enter key villages and towns in hostile states necessary to build the defense’s case had weakened counsel’s ability to represent their client effectively. 

The ICTY Appeals Chamber referenced jurisprudence from the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR), affirming that equality of arms encompasses the right to adequate time and facilities for the preparation of the defense, as outlined in Article 21(4)(b) of the ICTY Statute.

In my research and through interviews with defense counsel and the Registrar, I learned that defense counsel’s access to the region of the former Yugoslavia greatly diminished over the years following the first case. Yet, the Tadić case and the decisions made reinforced the importance of procedural balance.

I have said many times that the ICTY would be judged by the fairness of its proceedings and by the certainty that the accused received a fair trial and proper defense. Ultimately, no one has questioned the outcome or legitimacy of the Tadić trial, precisely because equality of arms was ensured through the assignment of defense counsel. Justice Goldstone has reiterated this view on several occasions, stating that without the support given to the Tadić defense team, the trial would not have been fair.


The Evolution of Defense Counsel before the ICTY and ICTR

Key lessons learned from defense in the Tadić case continued to guide my work with defense teams and to influence defense work at the ICTY and ICTR. As the number of cases before the ICTY grew following the Tadić case, the role of defense counsel evolved. The evolution of defense counsel can be witnessed through developments in several areas, including remuneration, assignment and selection, ethics, and the role of civil society.

The Financial Position of Defense Counsel 

Remuneration for defense counsel is one area that drastically changed over the years. Thankfully, defense counsel salaries at the ICTY and ICTR substantially improved following the first ICTY case against Duško Tadić.

The original 1994 Directive on the Assignment of Defense Counsel (amended several times since) provided for limited remuneration for defense counsel. Counsel in the Tadić case was paid a fixed rate of $800 for the entire trial ($400 for each stage of the trial) and a daily rate of only $200 per day. As I have written in “The Evolution of Defense Counsel Appearing Before the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia”, the remuneration in the Tadić case was hardly commensurate with the amount of time devoted to the case. Assigned Counsel spent 12 to 14 hours a day, six days a week, completing pre-trial and trial work. Counsel prepared for more than 85 cross-examinations and over 35 direct examinations of defense witnesses. When calculated based on a seven-and-a-half-hour workday, the lead defense counsel was paid $26 per hour, which also covered general administrative costs for the counsel’s office. Tadić’s counsel, Mr. Wladimiroff, waived his usual fees to meet the ICTY’s payment schedule.

After Tadić, compensation for counsel at the ICTY and ICTR generally improved. The Directive, amended in 2000, raised the fixed rate from $400 per trial stage to $2,000. The fixed daily rate was also raised considerably. In the early 2000s, depending on years of experience, lead counsel at the ICTY were remunerated at rates between $80 and $110 per hour, up to a maximum of 175 hours per month. An experienced counsel could earn more than $230,000 per year. Expenditures such as phones, mailing, office equipment, rent, fax services, and secretarial support were included in the payment to counsel of fees and costs. 

The Legal Aid Policies for the pre-trial, trial, and appeal stages later provided a more detailed payment scheme. They outlined the fixed rates for each phase of the proceeding, grouped into three levels of complexity (difficult, very difficult, and extremely difficult). The pre-trial stage policy provided for fixed rates, while the trial and appeal stage policies provided for a fixed rate per month depending on the difficulty of the case.

The Assignment and Selection of Counsel

The assignment and selection of defense counsel were established in the Statutes of the ICTY and ICTR, which referred to a right of the accused to communicate with “counsel of his or her own choosing” in Article 21(4)(b) and Article 20(4)(b) respectively. However, the right to counsel of an accused’s choosing was not without limits. The ICTY and ICTR generally left the administrative task of selecting counsel to the Registrar’s discretion, particularly to ensure that the counsel chosen met the criteria for assignment. However, in reality, the accused had great latitude in selecting his own counsel. In fact, there had rarely been a refusal of a request for assignment of counsel of choice during the ICTY’s history.

The Directive on the Assignment of Defense Counsel further governed the procedures for the assignment of defense counsel. The original Directive from 1994, in Article 16(A), entitled the suspect or accused to one attorney as assigned counsel only. The word “one” was interpreted literally. However, due to the enormous amount of work involved and the complexity of the Tadić case, as mentioned earlier, I successfully petitioned the ICTY for an additional defense attorney. The then ICTY Registrar reasoned that the Directive, while limiting counsel to one counsel, nevertheless allowed discretionary use of funds to secure the services of a defense counsel consultant.

In 1996, following the Tadić trial, the Directive was amended to allow the assignment of a second counsel to the accused under exceptional circumstances. By 2000, the ICTY further relaxed its co-counsel rules, allowing co-counsel more routinely, along with support staff such as investigators, translators, and language assistants, to manage the vast documentation involved. Article 16(C) of the Directive provided that the Registrar may, in the interests of justice and at the request of the lead counsel, “assign a second counsel to assist with the defense [...].” The Directive clarified the distinction between lead counsel and co-counsel too: acting under the authority of the lead counsel, the co-counsel may deal with all stages of the proceedings and all matters arising out of the defense. Article 16(D) further allowed the Registrar to “assign a co-counsel who does not speak either of the two working languages of the Tribunal but who speaks the native language of the suspect or accused.” Finally, Article 16(E) provided for the assigning of “other persons such as legal assistants, consultants, investigators and interpreters, as required, to provide support to counsel.” The article clarified that the lead counsel and the persons assisting him shall be referred to as the defense team.

Defense Counsel Ethics

The ICTY faced serious challenges in regulating ethics and discipline among defense counsel, given the diverse legal backgrounds of defense counsel from various countries. For instance, a system of “fee-splitting” emerged, in which the defendant appointed lawyers from the former Yugoslavia, with a portion of the lawyers’ fees paid to the defendant’s family. Unlike domestic systems with bar associations, the ICTY lacked a unified regulatory body. To address this, it introduced a Code of Professional Conduct in 1997, based on Rules 44–46 of its procedural framework, and subsequently amended it a few times. 

The Code was drafted by judges (not lawyers) and heavily influenced by national models, especially the ABA’s Model Rules. The Code, substantially revised in 2002, aimed to clarify defense counsel’s rights and obligations, restrictions and responsibilities, govern aspects of counsel’s work, such as confidentiality and conflicts, and to impose a disciplinary regime, including a Disciplinary Panel. A similar Code was introduced at the ICTR, and the ICTY code influenced the development of the ICC’s Code of Professional Conduct for Counsel.

Role of Civil Society 

The Tadić case was not only a legal milestone but also a starting point for civil society engagement in international justice. During the Tadić trial, a number of platforms and networks of civil society collaboration (e.g., CEELI) were heavily involved and played a crucial role by promoting transparency, advocating for victims’ rights, and shaping public discourse.

Civil society also recognized the importance of an effective defense as a component of a fair trial, which was crucial to the development of the defense. Several NGOs provided research or offered legal expertise and training to defense teams, recognizing the need for competent defense lawyers. Some NGOs advocated for procedural fairness and equality of arms, indirectly supporting defense teams by urging the ICTY to improve resources, transparency, and access to evidence.

Regarding the ICC Code of Professional Conduct, the IBA undertook a rigorous drafting process through an international Advisory Panel of legal experts.

Association for Defense Counsel 

Finally, a milestone development for the defense counsel was the establishment of the Association of Defense Counsel for the ICTY (ADC-ICTY). With the conclusion of the first trial, during which support for the early defense team was provided through a training program developed by CEELI, it became evident that it would be helpful for defense to consolidate formally, and in a way that would allow them to advocate for their interests. The ICTY judges saw a need for an association for the defense for several reasons. First, such an association could ensure a higher quality of defense counsel. Second, it could make collective representations to the ICTY on behalf of all defense counsel involved in cases. Third, it could deal with ethical and disciplinary issues. After more than a year of work by a special ad hoc working group, the ICTY established the Association of Defense Counsel of the ICTY in September 2002.

The judges amended the ICTY’s Rules of Procedure and Evidence, making membership of a recognised association of counsel a necessary requirement for inclusion on the so-called Rule 45 List (list of qualified counsel). This requirement can be found in Rule 44 of the ICTY Rules of Procedure and Evidence.

In December 2016, the General Assembly of the ADC-ICTY voted to adopt an amended Constitution which renamed the Association as the “Association of Defense Counsel practicing before the International Courts and Tribunals” (ADC-ICT). The ADC-ICT’s objectives include supporting the functioning, efficiency, and independence of defense counsel, promoting and ensuring the proficiency and competence of defense counsel, and overseeing their performance and professional conduct. It is the only official association of defense counsel that has practiced before the IRMCT. Lawyers admitted to the ICC List of Counsel are represented by ICCBA.

The Arc of International Defense and Way Forward

Following the armistice that ended World War I, the Treaty of Versailles committed the signatories to try Kaiser Wilhelm II for his crimes. Although he was never brought to justice, it would be the first time in history that nations imagined the possibility of an international tribunal. The ICTY, ICTR, and the ICC are a testament to that early vision.

In the 30 years since the UN Security Council created the ICTY, the international community has seen the field of international criminal law and the institutions within it steadily solidify, ultimately leading to the establishment of the ICC. The role of the ICTY and the ICTR in this evolution of legal thought cannot be underestimated. The ICTY’s achievements, in both substantive and procedural law, have established legal standards, and its perceived success is undoubtedly a major reason for the creation of the ICC.

ICTY and ICTR

Reflecting on my experiences, those early years at the ICTY showed a propensity to adapt to changing circumstances and needs. Representing those accused of some of the most heinous crimes of the past century was one of the most crucial aspects of the Tribunal. Yet, at the formation of the ICTY, issues addressing the needs of the defense counsel were not a priority for the newborn tribunal. However, because of the foresight of the ICTY’s first prosecutor, Richard Goldstone, and the Registrar, Dorothy de Sampayo, issues related to the defense counsel slowly gained greater importance. 

Although the years that followed have not been a panacea for all of these issues, the overall structure of the defense counsel significantly improved at the ICTY and ICTR. For instance, as described in this blog, the financial support for defense counsel at the ICTY improved. The number of assigned counsel and support staff provided to indigent defendants also increased. And, although not required, the ICTY adopted a liberal policy permitting the accused to select any available counsel qualified to appear before it. 

The ICTY also made progress in strengthening the integrity of the defense structure: the adoption of a code of professional conduct for defense counsel represented a milestone in countering allegations of ethical misconduct by assigned counsel. Finally, one of the hallmark developments was the formation of the Association of Defense Counsel of the ICTY.

International Criminal Court

These ICTY-specific defense developments significantly influenced the ICC’s defense framework. The ICC’s framework reflects several lessons learned from the ICTY and ICTR regarding defense issues, including the selection and assignment of defense counsel, defense counsel fees, and counsel ethics.

First, the ICC implemented a similar system of selecting defense counsel. The ICC’s Registrar oversees a list of approved counsel who meet the criteria set out in the Rules of Procedure and Evidence (Rule 20-22). Consistent with the ICTY and ICTR, the ICC makes clear that the indigent defendant does not have the absolute right to choose counsel. The Court reserves the right to select counsel for the defendant where the interest of justice so requires.

Likely in response to equality issues faced at the ICTY and ICTR, the ICC adopted a different approach to assigning counsel, allowing for the creation of a defense team. At the initial arrest, a defendant is assigned a “duty counsel” selected by the ICC from a list of attorneys in the accused’s country. The lead counsel is then allowed to assemble a defense team that, at various stages of the trial process, includes a professional investigator, two legal advisors, and one assistant. To facilitate this and other defense issues, the ICC has created an Office of Public Counsel for the Defense, an independent office within the registry whose purpose is to represent and research the rights of the defense and of persons entitled to legal assistance. Its functions include representing and protecting the rights of the defense during the initial stages of proceedings, providing general legal support to defense teams, and acting as an amicus curiae on defense issues.

Second, when embarking on creating the ICC’s legal defense system, the Registry conducted an impressive review of international and domestic legal aid systems. To avoid the early financial problems of the ICTY and ICTR, the ICC decided to reinforce the ICTY lump-sum payment system for assigned counsel, establishing an overall payment scheme for assigned defense counsel. 

The ICC Legal Aid Policy outlines the remuneration system in section G and Annex II, including remuneration for services provided and a monthly living cost lump sum. Unfortunately, there has been criticism about the ICC’s pay for defense counsel. Compared with other international tribunals, the ICC provides relatively low remuneration.

Third, following the ICTY’s practice, the ICC likewise recognised the need for a uniform code of conduct; Rules 8 and 22(3) of the ICC’s Rules of Procedure and Evidence authorized its creation. The Rules permitted the Registrar to develop a code of professional conduct in consultation with appropriate legal associations. As mentioned earlier, the IBA led a lengthy, consultative drafting process from 2002–2003 to build consensus across jurisdictions, and the Code of Professional Conduct for Counsel was adopted by the ICC’s Assembly of States Parties in 2005.

Finally, a considerable achievement at the ICC, building on the vital work of the ADC at the ICTY, is the creation of the International Criminal Court Bar Association (ICCBA) to advocate and lobby for defense interests similarly.

The struggles the ICTY encountered in dealing with issues affecting the defense offer current and future international tribunals ample opportunities to avoid similar mistakes. The significant achievements in the field of international criminal law and issues of accountability over the last 30 years have solidified the common understanding that, to ensure fair trials, adequate support for defense and the accused is a necessity. To maintain respect in the international community and to adhere to the principles of justice and the rule of law, international tribunals cannot be created merely to convict. I have witnessed that defense is no longer merely an afterthought as it was in the early years. 

Way Forward

Despite achievements, issues affecting the defense must remain a priority. Challenges inevitably remain (as other blogs in this series outline). As the field continues to develop and adapt, new challenges will arise. Over the past few years, we have seen a growing focus on the defense as it continues to play a critical role in shaping international criminal law at both the global and domestic levels. To meet international standards of international criminal law, this development requires an active role of the international community in capacity-building support. 

For instance, it has been very encouraging to see that Ukraine is receiving additional legal training in international criminal law from the IBA. Presently in Ukraine, over 97% of all war crimes committed by Russia since its full-scale invasion against the country will be tried by national courts. It is an arduous task with currently over 190,000 incidents of war crimes registered in the non-occupied territories alone. Ukraine’s legacy for these domestic trials will largely depend on whether the trials are seen to have met international standards of fairness and impartiality. The role of defense attorneys will be critical to meeting these standards.

The growth in domestic accountability processes, as we have also seen in universal jurisdiction cases, reinforces the idea that some crimes are so heinous that the world cannot turn a blind eye and that it has a duty to hold those responsible accountable. While this is inevitably not an easy duty, more acknowledge that a duty exists to combat impunity. We should be at a point where it is assumed that, to achieve accountability and ensure justice, a robust defense is a component of both processes. 

Conclusion

Protecting the rights of the accused appearing before international war crimes courts is not an easy task. Particularly where the most egregious crimes have been committed, social pressure to convict can be overwhelming. Coupled with the budgetary constraints associated with internationally supported courts, the focus on fair trials and the rights of the defense is often lost in the mayhem.

The rights of a defendant are fundamental to fair and impartial trial proceedings. Too often, defense issues fell to the bottom of the priority list. While there was a strong focus on the role of judges and prosecutors, little attention was given to legal assistance for the defense. Defense teams tended to be underfunded and short-staffed. Even the presumption of innocence was often absent in court statutes, particularly at the domestic level.

Although there are still many challenges for the defense, the ICTY changed the landscape of international defense remarkably. Initial challenges were overcome thanks to the foresight and resolve of some of those involved in the early defense work. The Tadić defense team’s approach, combining common and civil law experience and balancing regional expertise and procedural competence, became the paradigm for international war crime tribunals. And in the years that followed the Tadić case, crucial achievements were made at the ICTY and ICTR, some in response to the realities of defense work during that first case. 

At the ICTY and ICTR, the number of assigned counsel and support staff provided to indigent defendants increased. The ICTY adopted a liberal policy, allowing the accused to select any available counsel who is qualified to appear before the ICTY. Beyond acknowledging the importance of assigning defense counsel, the Tadić case made clear that equality of arms encompassed the right to adequate time and facilities for the preparation of the defense. Financial support for defense counsel at the ICTY and ICTR improved in comparison to the first case. 

The ICTY and ICTR also made progress in improving the defense framework with the adoption of a code of professional conduct for defense counsel. These, and other developments, greatly influenced the broader international criminal justice field, including the ICC’s framework. A landmark development is the establishment of the International Criminal Court Bar Association (ICCBA) to represent the interest of counsel and support staff at the ICC.

The Tadić trial made evident that, in ensuring fair trials, support for the defense was necessary. Today, defense is no longer an afterthought for international criminal trials. That is a tremendous achievement in itself. Nevertheless, as the focus of international accountability increasingly shifts to domestic trials, these trials require greater specialized knowledge, awareness, engagement, and support from lawyers and the public generally. 

Defending Before the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia - An Interview with Colleen Rohan

Defending Before the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia

An Interview with Colleen Rohan

Edited by Cailan Cumming, Kate Gibson & Paul R. R. Williams

A Note on Defending Justice

This blog is part of the Defending Justice series, an initiative of the Public International Law & Policy Group (PILPG) to promote an eclectic array of voices within the field of international criminal law. 

As part of our broader efforts to strengthen institutions of justice, this series seeks to create space for dialogue around the varied perspectives and concerns that shape these institutions. With that aim in mind, we interviewed a series of defense practitioners working in international criminal law and distilled their experiences and insights into a series of first-person blogsblogs, preserving the spirit and voice of those interviews.

Editor’s Note

This blog presents the experiences and perspectives of Colleen Rohan, a prominent defense lawyer whose decades of defense practice encompass some of the toughest cases in U.S. domestic criminal law as well as landmark cases before the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY). Through her personal journey in international criminal law, Rohan offers a singular perspective on the evolution of international defense, including the creation of the Association of Defence Counsel (ADC), the practical and ethical questions of representing persons accused of serious international crimes, and the procedural and institutional obstacles that shaped the early operations of the ICTY. Drawing upon Rohan’s experiences, readers gain insight into the daily realities of defense work, from navigating disclosure battles to fostering collegiality in a multicultural defense community, to the ways in which defense counsel must adapt to evolving legal systems. Her experiences illuminate both the successes and limitations of the ICTY, the development of substantive international criminal law, and the ongoing need for recognition, resources, and respect for defense practitioners in international tribunals.

Introduction

When the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) was established in 1993, it was in response to atrocities that shocked the world—mass killings, ethnic cleansing, systematic rape, and the genocide in Srebrenica. For the first time since Nuremberg, an international court was created to hold individuals accountable for war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide. Over the years, the tribunal indicted political leaders, military commanders, and others in positions of authority, setting important precedents in international criminal law while also drawing criticism for its accessibility and procedures.

By the time I arrived in The Hague, the tribunal had already been operating for more than a decade, but my own journey there had begun much earlier. I never set out to become a lawyer, let alone an international criminal defense lawyer. As an undergraduate at UC Berkeley, in Berkeley, California U.S. I worked to support myself, taking a job as a typist at the Meiklejohn Civil Liberties Institute under Ann Fagan Ginger, a remarkable human rights lawyer. I thought I was headed toward a career in psychology, but Ann pushed me to consider law. I then worked as a typist for Patrick Hallinan, a celebrated criminal defense lawyer in San Francisco, where I was taken to court and given real work to do. Patrick also encouraged me to go to law school and told me he would give me a job if I did, which he followed through on. These two mentors, who convinced me that law would be a way to help people, were instrumental in my beginnings in law. 

My journey into law was a gradual process, but I was fortunate to be part of a generation that believed lawyers were not simply there to earn a fee, but to use the law as a tool for positive change in people’s lives. We genuinely felt we could help shape the law while helping individuals. We were not naïve, but we were optimistic, an optimism that waned as our legal careers progressed. Still, that early sense of altruism was essential in driving us forward as young lawyers.

My first introduction to ‘international’ law was when Patrick Hallinan was engaged to represent an American, William Joseph Quinn, who traveled to Ireland to join the Irish Republican Army (IRA) and was charged with a series of bombings in England and for the murder of a police officer in London. Watching that case unfold, with questions of extradition and about laws in other countries, opened my eyes to a field of law I had not considered before. Still, I spent the next 25 years in the U.S., first in private practice, later at the State Public Defender’s Office handling serious felonies and death penalty cases, and then back in private practice defending gang cases and post-conviction death penalty cases.

In the late 1990s, my partner Gregor Guy-Smith, also a defense lawyer, and I moved to Toulouse, France. While there, we followed the developments of the international tribunals for Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia. Given our background in criminal defense, they struck us as interesting places to work and as a way to stay in Europe. Though we eventually returned to the United States, the seed had been planted.

At that time, there was a small but growing community of lawyers involved in international criminal law. Gregor attended a meeting of these lawyers in Montreal where he met Peter Murphy, who was working on the first Kosovo case at the ICTY against Fatmir Limaj, Isak Musliu, and Haradin Bala, members of the Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA) who were charged and later acquitted of war crimes. Peter invited Gregor to join the defense team for Haradin Bala, and eventually Gregor became lead counsel.

I spent time between California and The Hague, as our daughter was still in high school, but I met many people in the Hague community. Eventually the Registrar suggested that I take on cases myself, considering me qualified and recognizing the need for defense counsel at the time. After nearly 25 years in domestic criminal defence I formally entered the world of international criminal law.

Both Gregor and I were deeply interested in the development of international criminal law, the kind of law that was being practiced, which was very different from U.S. domestic law, and the future of these tribunals. Life in The Hague meant being part of a vibrant, dynamic community with constant intellectual discussion about the law. We quickly realized how much there was to learn and how trials operated in other countries. Many who left The Hague to return to domestic practice often came back due to just how compelling this field of law was. For us, the transition into international criminal law ultimately felt natural, meaningful, and engaging.

First Case

My first case at the ICTY was representing Milorad Trbic, a Serb implicated in the genocide in Srebrenica. I arrived in The Hague early that first morning, and by 11 a.m., I had my first meeting with the Prosecutor. He briefed me on the case and handed me three large boxes of disclosure, which was just the beginning of what would eventually amount to hundreds of thousands of documents. By the end of the case, even after I had moved on, over a million documents had been disclosed. 

After the meeting, I went to the ICTY’s ‘Defence room’. It was a shared space with a few computers and desks, but all the defense teams at the tribunal needed to use this space, which was about 30 to 40 people. With so few resources and no offices, there was constant jockeying for space and equipment. Most of the defense team members were from Serbia or other parts of the former Yugoslavia, and many different languages filled the room. At first, I felt completely overwhelmed. Setting up an office and figuring out how to begin going through the case was mostly up to me at this time. 

A woman introduced herself as co-counsel for one of the co-accused in the Srebrenica case. She told me there were many things I did not know because the case had progressed before my client was arrested and indicted and before I was brought in as counsel. She then proceeded to tell me that my client had confessed to 26 murders he did not commit and that his confession was false. This revelation completely shifted how I approached the case and evaluated the disclosure before even meeting my client. In my entire career as a defense lawyer I had never experienced anything like that—a false confession to 26 murders.

My co-counsel’s experience and local knowledge of the region and the war were invaluable. What could have been an intimidating first day instead became an important and welcoming introduction to the international defense community. I quickly realized that the collegiality among defense lawyers was strong and was a vital support system in navigating my first case.

My first day in court was equally eye-opening. I had to wear a robe, use headphones for translation, and navigate multiple computer screens for simultaneous interpretation. The proceedings involved three judges and no jury—a clear difference from my experience in the U.S. common law system. I had no time to thoroughly prepare so I relied on advice from colleagues who had gone through the same experience in order to understand exactly what to do in court. In other aspects it was easier for those coming from a common law system to learn the tribunal’s legal system. Many of the defense lawyers came from Serbia, a civil law system, without adversarial procedures like cross-examination, so even seasoned lawyers from these systems needed to learn courtroom techniques that were specific to the tribunal. That was a lot of pressure and challenge in such a high-stakes environment.

Other aspects of the system were not so comfortable to me as someone coming from a common law system. Hearsay evidence was admissible, certain witnesses were protected and inaccessible, and client access could also be difficult. Gradually, we adapted to the rules and procedures while working on our case and observing other cases, even if we did not like the rules and procedures we had to work with. One of the aspects of working at the tribunal that I never quite got used to was navigating the relationship with the prosecution. In the U.S., regardless of your relationship with the prosecutors, they will generally provide the required information, be reasonable, and generally be collegial. At the ICTY, some prosecutors seemed reluctant to share relevant or exculpatory evidence and at times could even be considered hostile towards the defense. The ICTY itself was structured around three pillars—Registry, Judges, and Prosecution—and as defense counsel, we were not formally part of this hierarchy. This meant the prosecution could sometimes view the defense as a necessary obstacle to be dealt with at trial. 

That first case taught me the realities of international criminal defense: navigating an unfamiliar legal system, managing massive disclosure with limited resources, and building relationships within a complex institutional structure, all while advocating for a client whose liberty and life were at stake.

Ethics of Defense Representation

In the United States, much of my early career was spent handling gang-related cases, including death penalty work. These cases could be quite demoralizing as they involved deeply damaged victims, deeply damaged clients, and often involved individuals who were emotionally and mentally unstable and had committed cruel and vicious crimes. The negativity was unrelenting. Over time, it took a toll.

Given the gravity of the crimes tried at international tribunals, many people assume that the ethical questions of defending clients at international tribunals must be even greater. In fact, I found the opposite to be true. My clients at the ICTY were not gang members or career criminals but rather those working in the military or members of the political structure. They were men who had once lived what we might call ordinary lives—people with an education, with families, with stable homes—until the war broke out. The only reason they became involved in criminal conduct was because the war literally arrived at their front doors. They were fighting for their communities, their families, and for what they believed in, in the context of a violent, ongoing war. If it was not for the war these people probably, with rare exception, would have never committed a crime. 

Take someone like Milorad Trbić, a low-ranking officer in the Bosnian Serb Army. He was trained, above all else, to follow orders. In military life, obedience is non-negotiable. Today, we have rules of law prohibiting soldiers from carrying out commands that are facially illegal or immoral, but in the reality of war, that was not the case for many of the officers on the ground. Many of the people who were told to shoot civilians in Srebrenica said no, and there was a whole regiment whose leader refused to shoot civilians, and they walked away. Some are able to withstand the pressure of those commands in a military environment. Others are not.

In the U.S., I represented people who often made destructive choices in their everyday lives. At The Hague, many of my clients were men who did not generate the situation that brought about the crime, but rather the situation was generated for them. These were men who would never have committed a crime had it not been for the war. For me, there was never an ethical conflict in defending someone who had been put in such a situation. Now, that is an entirely separate issue from whether they have a proper defense or not.

Other defendants came from the political leadership. I was on the standby team for Radovan Karadžić, who, as President of the Republika Srpska, was prosecuted for nearly every crime committed during the war. Karadžić was highly educated and highly intelligent. You may completely disagree with his worldview—and I certainly did—but like anyone involved in war, he took day to day decisions about the battlefield, and he did so with others who were in the political structure. Leaders on all sides were responding to very real political issues.

To understand that dynamic, you need to go back to the history. All wars, including the war in the former Yugoslavia, are in response to something. For instance, Bosnia’s former Muslim president, Alija Izetbegović, had published The Islamic Declaration in 1970, which Serb leaders interpreted as a call to transform Bosnia into a Muslim state. So, when Muslims moved into the area, they felt threatened, and tension and hatred began to build. When you combine this tension with the reality of war where people have lost their homes and family members; cannot work; and cannot walk anywhere without feeling unsafe, you begin to understand where the sense of existential threat comes from and how people are driven or feel driven to make decisions that we would not take under normal circumstances. Under those conditions, decisions were made that, in hindsight, absolutely constitute war crimes. How much of that is understood at the time is another complex issue.

This is why learning about your client’s history, culture, and lived reality is absolutely essential in international criminal defense. Whenever possible, I tried to travel to the region, meet people, and attempt to understand what it must have been like for my client during the war. Through this exercise, you can begin to understand why your client functioned the way that they did—not to excuse their behavior but to attempt to understand it. Defendants make poor choices and may be racist or Islamophobic, but these things never raised a single ethical barrier for me in representing them. My role was not to endorse their views, but to test whether they were guilty of the alleged crimes under the law, to ensure their rights as defendants were respected, and that they received a fair trial.

At the ICTY, we also had the Association of Defence Counsel (ADC), which I will discuss in greater detail below. The ADC was a professional association of defense counsel working at the tribunal and it included a disciplinary committee. This body was there to support lawyers who faced genuine ethical dilemmas in their cases and did not know how to resolve them. The committee could provide confidential advice and opinions, helping counsel navigate the complexities of international criminal practice. That structure itself was a recognition that, in this unique environment, ethical questions could arise in ways we might not encounter in domestic practice.

Shaping the Future of Defense

The Birth and Development of the ADC

When I first arrived at the ICTY, it quickly became clear that very little thought had been given to the defense during the tribunal’s creation—who we would be, how we would be supported, how we would fit into the institution, or how we would function. The tribunal paid us to handle our cases, but beyond that, we were largely on our own.

In the early years, defense counsel were highly restricted and, in many ways, ignored. For example, our badges allowed us to enter only a narrow corridor leading to the defense room in the tribunal building. We were barred from the cafeteria, the library, and certainly from entering the Prosecutors’ offices. Meanwhile, the prosecution had full offices, support staff, and access to a database of cases and case law that we could only consult from within the building. For those of us not living full-time in The Hague, legal research was incredibly difficult. We were permitted just three paid travel days to the Hague per month unless our case was in trial, which meant that the lawyers who did not live in the Hague full-time could not conduct legal research for their cases. 

At one point the Judges became concerned about the ethical practices among defense counsel. They proposed creating a structure to monitor ethical behavior and provide training. Many of us thought this was an excellent idea because at least, finally, we were being included in the institution in some way. Based on this original group, and working closely with the Registrar, we established what became the Association of Defence Counsel (the ADC or ADC-ICTY).

The ADC was a proper association, complete with a constitution, executive committee, president, training committees, and a disciplinary committee. It was the first step in providing the basic support that defense counsel needed to prepare and defend their cases effectively. By 2005, new defense counsel could walk into the tribunal building, knock on the door of the ADC, and receive the minimum guidance, information, and access necessary to do their work in this new environment.

Within a couple of years, the ADC began offering trainings with the basic information needed for defense counsel to do their jobs, such as how to conduct direct and cross-examinations, and substantive training on international criminal law. This was essential because the ICTY was the first modern international criminal tribunal, meaning many legal issues were being determined in real time and international law was constantly evolving. At the time you could not access this information on your home computer so the ADC’s trainings were critical.

The community support that grew from the ADC was invaluable. Defense counsel came from all over the world, including countries that had once been on opposite sides of conflicts, yet we shared a common language: going to court and representing the accused. Overcoming these early challenges together forged a strong bond among us. Working together to do our job effectively became more important than any of our differences.

Looking back, the birth and development of the ADC was one of the ICTY’s most enduring contributions to the international defence community. The ADC has now existed for over twenty years, and its legacy paved the way for the ICC’s Defence Association, the ICCBA, which gives defense counsel similar institutional support after many years without it.

Manual on International Criminal Defence

When the ICTY began planning to put out a manual to explain the basics of the tribunal and its three pillars of the Chambers, Prosecution, and Registry, the Office of the President suggested that someone write a chapter about the Defense. I wrote the chapter and included commentary on some of the challenges we faced as defense counsel, particularly regarding limited resources and difficulties in securing disclosure from the prosecution. Those who initially read the draft described it as reasonable and constructive. However, the Prosecution was not pleased. They wanted the sections on disclosure challenges removed. In the end, the ICTY President’s office did not allow us to edit the chapter and simply left it out of the final manual.

The primary funder of the manual, the United Nations Interregional Crime and Justice Research Institute (UNICRI), seeing that the defense chapter had been taken out, asked if the ADC would be willing to put together a defense manual for publication. We agreed. Lawyers from the ICTY, coming from all over the world, contributed to the manual, offering practical guidance on every aspect of defence work—from conducting direct and cross-examinations to writing and arguing motions, to interviewing witnesses effectively.

The publication of that manual marked a turning point. The perception of the ICTY judges towards the defense began to change. They started to recognize the defense’s role within the tribunal and the value of our inclusion in tribunal matters, rather than just limiting our relevance to basic due process rights. Defense representatives were now invited to important meetings and we felt that our role was more respected, our ideas listened to, and that we were treated with less hostility. 

In the early days of the ICTY, for example, the defense was rarely consulted or listened to by the Rules Committee, which decided on changes to rules and evidence procedures that directly affected our daily work. Often rules were passed without considering how they would function from a defence perspective, which meant wasted time and resources litigating adjustments that could have been avoided with proper consultation. The manual, and our advocacy in creating it, helped change that dynamic, giving defence counsel a stronger voice and greater accessibility within the tribunal.

Legacy of the ICTY

Fairness of Trials

When I reflect on the trials at the ICTY, I believe that, by and large, they were fair. Admittedly, at the beginning, I approached the proceedings with some skepticism, assuming that judges might be biased. But in practice, I found most of them were genuinely trying to reach reasonable conclusions based on the evidence before them. There were, of course, exceptions where judges made their bias absolutely clear. One well-known case involved Judge Frederik Harhoff, whose impartiality was called into serious question after he sent a private email to a large group in which he was critical of his judicial colleagues’ judgments acquitting certain commanders, and expressed his view the acquittals were political and did not follow the law. He was subsequently removed from the tribunal.

In my own cases, I found the judges made an effort to adhere to the rules of evidence and procedure. Appearing before a panel of Judges is a completely different experience from presenting your case to a jury. In an international tribunal like the ICTY, you are building a working relationship with three individuals who are deciding a case and it is very different from the relationship you have with a jury. It is not about appealing to the emotions of a jury but rather about establishing credibility with the judges, demonstrating the reliability of your evidence, and presenting yourself as a trustworthy advocate. You are trying to figure out who the judges are and how they think. Through that process you hope that they will listen to you and accept your view of the evidence.

Development of International Criminal Law

In terms of the broader development of international criminal law, I believe the ICTY had an enormously positive impact, provided people actually pay attention to it. I do not agree with every decision that came out of the tribunal, but the parties and the Judges worked through some extremely complex factual and legal questions. They produced opinions that can be relied upon in later courts and tribunals, creating a body of jurisprudence that continues to influence international criminal law. The challenge, of course, is that no one is formally required to follow ICTY decisions, but they are cited, studied, and increasingly used as a reference. Domestic courts and specialized tribunals in the region, such as the War Crimes Chamber of the Court of Bosnia and Herzegovina and the European Union Rule of Law Mission in Kosovo (EULEX), have drawn on ICTY jurisprudence to guide their own proceedings.

International criminal law is, and will always be, a dynamic and evolving field. In my view, the ICTY played a critical role in shaping this landscape, setting standards and offering a foundation upon which future tribunals and courts built upon and continue to build upon.

Continuing Challenges 
When I look at the landscape of international criminal law today, I see both progress and lingering challenges. Compared to the ICC, I believe the ICTY had a particularly strong defense association, and over time, we gained much better recognition of the defense’s role and function within the tribunal. That recognition, however, does not remove enduring issues, particularly when it comes to disclosure of exculpatory evidence, an issue that has major implications on the right to a fair trial.

Disclosure was a significant challenge at the ICTY, and it continues to be at the ICC. I recall one case at the ICTY where we actually filed a motion seeking sanctions against a Prosecutor for withholding exculpatory evidence. The Trial Chamber granted our motion and ordered sanctions, but on appeal, the decision was overturned. The Appeals Chamber was concerned about setting a precedent that would hold a Prosecutor personally accountable in this way. In another case, I remember a particularly sympathetic witness—an older gentleman who spoke about the brutal killing of his parents and how the war had devastated his life. He spoke about who he thought was responsible for the human cost of war and who he thought directed it, and he left the courtroom as a highly credible witness. A few days later, however, we received a late disclosure from the prosecution: this same witness was actually a wanted war criminal and had committed crimes against humanity himself. By the time this information came to light, he was no longer available for cross-examination. The late disclosure fundamentally affected the fairness of the proceedings, leaving us unable to properly examine or challenge his statements.

At the ICC, there are similar, and in some respects, more structural challenges for the defense. One example is the delayed admissibility of evidence. At the ICC, the admissibility of all evidence that the parties seek to admit and present during the trial is only formally ruled on by the judges at the end of the case. This means that if the Prosecutor seeks to admit an expert report and the defense objects, arguing that it is inadmissible on certain grounds, we will not know during the trial whether the evidence will ultimately be accepted. This makes it impossible for a Prosecutor to know if they have met their burden of proof. For the defense, this creates a major dilemma: we cannot determine whether we need to present affirmative evidence to rebut certain claims. Essentially, we are left guessing, which is unfair and undermines the defendant’s right to a fair trial. 

Conclusion 

Reflecting on my experience, I would emphasize the importance of cautious optimism for young lawyers entering the field. When I first began practicing at the ICTY, the dynamism of international criminal law, combined with the diverse and supportive community of defense counsel, was what drew many of us to The Hague and continues to bring lawyers back today. Learning from other defense counsel how to navigate a new court system, and learning as you go on each case, continues to be a vital part of practicing defense in international tribunals.

The existence of a Defence Association, first at the ICTY and now at the ICC, remains crucial for onboarding and basic training of defense lawyers, providing guidance and support in a complex and often overwhelming environment. Yet challenges remain: limitations in technology, inadequate facilities, and restricted funds for travel all continue to impact the effectiveness of the defense. 

Despite these challenges, the defense community at the ICTY overcame these obstacles together, forging strong bonds across cultures and legal traditions, a practice that continues today at the ICC and other international tribunals. As the first modern international criminal tribunal, the ICTY faced constant legal evolution, and both Counsel and Judges worked hard to address extraordinarily complex issues. From my perspective, the ICTY made a tremendously positive contribution to the development of substantive international criminal law, producing solid jurisprudence that continues to guide courts and tribunals around the world. The creation of the Association of Defence Counsel (ADC) was also a critical achievement, ensuring that defense voices began to be recognized and supported.

Looking forward, international tribunals must continue to build on these lessons. Proper funding and resources, clear communication, a strong defense association, and genuine recognition of the function of the defense are essential for maintaining the fairness and integrity of international justice. Counsel must be included in discussions regarding rules of procedure, and the prosecution must be held to high standards of timely and full disclosure of exculpatory evidence. Ultimately, even as decades pass and new tribunals are created, the needs of defense practitioners remain the same: for our role to be recognized, our ideas heard, to be treated with respect, and that our basic needs are met so that we can effectively represent our clients. The ICTY was one important step toward achieving this and advancing true justice before the eyes of the international community.

The Essential Contributions of Support Staff in International Defense - An Interview with Cécile Lecolle

The Essential Contributions of Support Staff in International Defense

An Interview with Cécile Lecolle

Edited by Cailan Cumming, Kate Gibson & Paul R. Williams

A Note on Defending Justice

This blog is part of the Defending Justice series, an initiative of the Public International Law and Policy Group (PILPG) to promote an eclectic array of voices within the field of international criminal law. 

As part of our broader efforts to strengthen institutions of justice, this series seeks to create space for dialogue around the varied perspectives and concerns that shape these institutions. With that aim in mind, we interviewed a series of defense practitioners working in international criminal law and distilled their experiences and insights into a series of first-person blogs, preserving the spirit and voice of those interviews.

Editor’s Note

Justice in international criminal law is not solely determined by the strength of arguments or the weight of evidence—it is also shaped by those working behind the scenes. Support staff, often unseen and underappreciated, play a decisive role in the defense of the accused. Through the work of Cécile Lecolle, an experienced case manager and legal assistant, this blog explores the reality of defense support work in some of the most high-profile international criminal cases. Lecolle’s career demonstrates not only the immense responsibilities carried by support staff but also the broader inequities in international justice, including resource imbalances between the prosecution and defense, failures in disclosing exculpatory evidence, and the persistent stigma surrounding defense work. 

Introduction

My journey spans from the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) to the International Criminal Court and beyond. With a background in international public law and a specialization in international humanitarian law, I began my career with an internship at the ICTY, assisting in the judgment writing, and participating in the work of the Presiding Judge on his separate opinion in the Šešelj case

In one of the most contentious trials in the ICTY’s history, the Serbian politician Vojislav Šešelj was charged with incitement to commit war crimes and crimes against humanity.  Prosecutors alleged that Mr. Šešelj’s inflammatory speeches and recruitment efforts fueled ethnic violence during the Yugoslav Wars of the 1990s. His speeches called for the expulsion of Croats, Muslims, and other non-Serb populations, and he was accused of organizing paramilitary groups that committed atrocities. Ultimately, the trial sparked widespread debate about the limits of free speech and the burden of proof required to establish accountability for crimes of incitement.

Motivated to deepen my understanding of international criminal law, I pursued another internship with the defense team for Jean-Pierre Bemba at the ICC. The Bemba case, which involved allegations of crimes against humanity and war crimes in the Central African Republic, demonstrated to me the immense challenges defense teams face in managing extensive evidence. This work led to a paid position as a case manager, where I continued contributing to the Bemba case through the appeal stage. My career path then took me to the Residual Mechanism for Criminal Tribunals, where I worked as a case manager and legal assistant in Arusha. I later joined the Office of Public Counsel for the Defence at the ICC, conducting legal research for defense counsel on complicated and/or novel legal questions.  

My involvement as a legal assistant in the Al Hassan defense team at the ICC, which addressed war crimes and crimes against humanity in Mali, further shaped my career. Al Hassan ag Abdoul Aziz, a former member of Ansar Dine, an Islamist armed group, was charged with crimes committed during the occupation of Timbuktu. The case represented a significant step in addressing crimes that target cultural and historical identity as violations of international law.

In the Mokom case, I again acted as a legal assistant and supported the defense team through its pre-trial phase. Maxime Mokom, a leader in the Anti-Balaka militia in the Central African Republic, was accused of war crimes and crimes against humanity, including murder, extermination, deportation, and persecution. The ICC Prosecutor dropped all charges against Mr. Mokom after the hearing on the confirmation of charges, citing insufficient evidence. This case taught me the importance of exculpatory evidence in preserving the integrity of the judicial process.

I currently work as a legal assistant on the Kony defense team, focusing on the pre-trial phase of the case against Joseph Kony, alleged leader of the Lord’s Resistance Army in Central and East Africa. Mr. Kony faces charges of war crimes and crimes against humanity, including murder, enslavement, and forced enlistment of child soldiers. His case has drawn international attention as the first in absentia confirmation of charges hearing at the ICC, raising significant concerns regarding the rights of the accused and right to a fair trial. In addition to my role in the Kony case, I continue to offer pro bono support to other cases and work part time in France as an Associate Judge at the National Court of Asylum.

For me, defense work is both deeply rewarding and profoundly challenging. It is a formative and multifaceted pursuit, shaped by setbacks, stigma, administrative hurdles, and the ongoing struggle to uphold the rights of the accused. Despite these obstacles, my commitment to the field of defense continues, and I hope this blog provides meaningful insight into the contributions of those who work behind the scenes of the Defense in international criminal tribunals.   

The Role of Support Staff

In international criminal defense, support staff play a crucial and varied role, supporting counsel in every aspect of the case. From the initial stages of case preparation to the final stages of trial, support staff are integral in ensuring that defense teams are able to effectively represent the accused. There is a wide variety of roles within the support staff: interns, visiting professionals, case managers, legal assistants, assistants to counsel, and language assistants. Regardless of the title, most team members contribute broadly to many areas of the case. Whether researching legal precedent, analyzing evidence, discussing strategy with the client, managing case files, or preparing witnesses for testimony, support staff are deeply involved in the case’s progression.

Interns and visiting professionals are typically in the early stages of their careers looking to learn about the work of the ICC and in the case of visiting professionals, applying their specialized knowledge to an area of work. Language assistants are hired to help translate and analyze evidence and court documents in multiple languages, which is essential in ensuring that all evidence is correctly interpreted. Case managers, the first entry-level position within a defense team, are in charge of organizing and managing the case file. They are responsible for tracking deadlines, scheduling meetings, managing communications with the ICC Registry, and handling any administrative tasks. Most case managers are also involved in legal work, such as evidence review and legal research, contributing to the overall case strategy. 

Legal assistants typically have several years of experience in the field and are entrusted with more substantial legal responsibilities. They may assist with drafting legal documents, preparing witnesses, reviewing evidence, and even speaking in court, including questioning or cross-examining witnesses. Assistants to counsel have even more legal experience, and their work is often more strategic. They are trusted to take on the most complex legal tasks, contributing significantly to case strategy and court proceedings. 

One of the most significant responsibilities of support staff is managing evidence. This includes receiving documents from the prosecution, and then organizing, classifying, analyzing, and linking these documents together. This process is especially critical in the pre-trial phase, where understanding and becoming familiar with all the evidence is imperative before stepping into the courtroom. Organizing this mountain of information is no small task, and it requires immense attention to detail and a deep understanding of the case at hand. This is a central part of the work, and one that often requires long hours and a level of dedication that goes beyond the normal working day.

Support staff also often develop close relationships to the client, in some cases spending as much time with them as the rest of the defense team. Legal assistants, in particular, have privileged access to the client, which allows them to have confidential phone calls and visits, and means they are involved in many of the meetings between the support staff and the client. These interactions are at the heart of the defense team’s work, allowing support staff to gain insights into the client’s experiences, provide explanations of legal filings, discuss specific pieces of evidence or allegations, and ensure that they are well-informed and comfortable throughout the process.

Support staff can also play a role in shaping the defense strategy. As the team members who are often most intimately familiar with the case file, support staff serve as the “memory” of the case. By organizing filings, tracking correspondence, evaluating witness statements, and creating links between the evidence and charges, Counsel depend on the support staff to locate information, and be able to recall what has been decided or submitted throughout the case. Over time, as support staff remain involved in a case, they develop an understanding of the geographical, political, and contextual elements surrounding the case and gain fluency in the court’s rules, procedures, and functions. This combination of knowledge enables support staff to play an increasing role in shaping defense strategies. 

To succeed in the role, support staff must possess several key qualities. Time management, organization, and the ability to work well within a team are crucial for success in the fast-paced environment of international criminal defense. Communication skills, both in writing and verbally, are essential, as is the capacity for analytical thinking and attention to detail. Support staff must also understand the law and legal rules and be able to acquire new knowledge as needed. Finally, the support role requires patience, professionalism, and a strong ethical foundation, with individuals that trust themselves and others on the team.

These kinds of qualities enable support staff to successfully confront the challenges faced by defense teams. With little to no formal training available, they are often required to learn on the job—adapting quickly, acquiring new skills, and applying them daily under pressure. The fast pace of cases and the wide-ranging responsibilities leave no choice but to learn quickly and perform to a consistently high standard. Given that defense teams are typically much smaller than prosecution teams, support staff often carry a broader and more diverse workload. The exposure to all aspects of a case allows for significant professional growth, even if it is at the cost of long working hours and limited benefits.

Effective Case Management in Complex International Crimes Cases

In complex international criminal proceedings, effective case management is the backbone of a well-functioning defense team. At the helm of this process stands the case manager. The case manager is the architect of the case file—an extensive and living repository of everything related to the proceedings. The case file includes correspondence, filings, administrative decisions, meeting notes, client communications, witness folders, transcripts of hearings, evidentiary material, legal research, and more. Materials must be accessible, well-indexed, and tracked. Evidence is analyzed and categorized by type, geography, theme, event, or linkage to other evidence or witnesses. The evidence is also evaluated for chronology, provenance, legal weight, and relevance. The case file is not simply a folder of documents; it is the map of the case. Every team member relies on the case file to navigate the complex legal and factual terrain of their case. And when created with care and precision, it becomes the most important tool the team possesses.

Case managers also serve as the defense team’s timekeepers. They are responsible for maintaining a detailed calendar that reflects internal work plans, disclosure deadlines, filing submissions, scheduled hearings, and key procedural windows for legal actions. For example, when the defense team files a motion, the case manager tracks the deadline for the response, whether a reply is permitted, and if there is a right for the defense to appeal or request leave to appeal. 

While the ICC provides digital tools for case management, these platforms are complex and far from intuitive. The training available for these tools is limited and often unavailable, leaving case managers to become familiar with the technology on their own. The learning curve is steep, and yet the volume of material to be managed is immense. It is not uncommon for a case to involve tens or hundreds of thousands of documents, plus hours upon hours of audio and video footage.

These challenges are exacerbated by inadequate disclosure by the prosecution. Under Article 54 of the Rome Statute, the prosecution is obliged to investigate both incriminating and exonerating circumstances equally and disclose relevant material to the defense. However, no defense team at the ICC would argue that this is done thoroughly or consistently. The prosecution may miss key exculpatory evidence, either because of oversight, bias in their strategy, or a fundamental lack of understanding of defense theory. Consequently, defense teams must sift through everything themselves—doing the same work as the prosecution, but in much less time and with fewer people. 

During the pre-trial phase in the case against Maxime Mokom at the ICC, for example, the prosecution initially disclosed a set of documents it deemed exculpatory. Upon review, the defense identified numerous additional items that clearly fell within that category but had not been flagged. The Pre-Trial Chamber agreed and ordered the prosecution to repeat the disclosure process, ultimately leading to the identification of hundreds more exculpatory items. But by that time, only two months remained before the confirmation of charges hearing. The defense team then had to work under enormous time pressure to incorporate this evidence into its presentation. In the end, the charges against Mr. Mokom were dropped due to a lack of a reasonable prospect of conviction—a result owed in no small part to the work of the support staff in identifying and elevating exculpatory evidence.

The Mokom case illustrates that much of the critical work begins at the level of case management, and a strong case manager can make the difference between a case going forward or not. While Counsel focuses on shaping legal arguments and testing the prosecution’s evidence, they rely on the integrity and completeness of the information assembled and analyzed by their team. This trust means that the work of case managers carries immense responsibility. The volume of work is staggering and the stakes are high, but when carried with care, this role becomes one of the most impactful in the courtroom. 

Inequality of Arms

The structure and day-to-day work of the defense and prosecution teams in international criminal proceedings are markedly different. Prosecution teams are typically larger and far more specialized. Within a single prosecution team, there may be dedicated units for forensics, disclosure, information technology, mapping, and more. A team member in the prosecution might work full-time on one specific task, such as reviewing metadata or linking evidence to charges. In contrast, defense support staff are expected to juggle a wide array of responsibilities, often all on the same day. During the trial phase of a large case, a defense team may increase to 13–14 people, but more commonly consists of just 6–7 individuals. These include a Lead Counsel, one to three Co-Counsels (who may not be full-time), one Assistant to Counsel, a few Legal Assistants, one or two Case Managers, a Language Assistant, and a handful of interns or visiting professionals.

Though the different mandates of prosecution and defense may justify some variation in support, the disparity in resourcing and staffing can significantly impact the defense’s ability to do its job properly and efficiently. The prosecution often begins working on a case years before the defense is even assigned. They know their witnesses, their theory of the case, and how to proceed. Meanwhile, defense teams need to quickly acquire knowledge that the prosecution has had years of time to develop, such as the political and military context, the actors involved, the structure of the state, and the broader social and conflict history. There may already be thousands of pieces of evidence, hundreds of witness statements, and years of investigative work that must be gone through in a matter of months. For instance, when the defense team was appointed to represent the interests of Mr. Kony before the ICC, the case file already contained over 400 filings—representing years of litigation and procedural development that had occurred without any defense involvement. 

Prosecution teams also benefit from significantly greater funding for investigations, enabling greater fact-finding and evidence gathering than defense teams. In some cases, the sheer scale of the evidence even challenges the bench. In the case against former Côte d’Ivoire President Laurent Gbagbo, Trial Judge Geoffrey A. Henderson noted that he was unable to read the entirety of the prosecution’s case file within the timeframe given. He reflected that in his home jurisdiction of Trinidad and Tobago, he had never sat a trial without having reviewed all the evidence, and found this treatment of evidence deeply unsatisfactory. All of this affects the defense’s ability to respond fully and fairly—an imbalance that can have real consequences for the outcome of proceedings.

Beyond structural disadvantages, the defense also faces persistent stigma and unequal treatment within the international community. There remains a deep-rooted perception—among other legal professionals, NGOs, and even court officials—that the defense teams are merely an extension of the accused. In the Bemba case, for example, our experience in court was marked by clear hostility. Some members of the prosecution and legal representatives exhibited open disdain for Mr. Bemba, which extended to outright animosity toward the defense. 

This stigma persists even in academic and professional settings. At legal conferences, defense practitioners have faced accusations of dishonesty, procedural gamesmanship, or obstructionism—accusations that would never be made against the prosecution. Yet the defense simply does their jobs within the same legal framework and in the same pursuit of justice and due process. The defense is, quite literally, half of the courtroom and, as such, an indispensable pillar of the justice system.

However, there has been some progress regarding support to the defense in recent years. In 2022, defense support staff staged a strike and protested during the Assembly of States Parties (ASP) in The Hague, calling for better working conditions. The demonstration was a response to the lack of basic social protections for defense workers—protections that are afforded to ICC staff, including the prosecution. At that time, support staff had no rights to sick leave, holidays, parental leave, or retirement benefits. Defense personnel worked tirelessly, but without any institutional protection.

The protest aimed to pressure the ICC Registry and the ASP into revising the legal aid policy that was established in 2016. Those of us who were allowed to protest by their Counsel were banned from entering the Assembly, cutting off any opportunity to educate and advocate for our interests with state representatives. Nonetheless, the strike and protest proved to be an inflection point. For the first time, many people, even within the ICC, learned about the real working conditions of defense support staff and had greater sympathy for our cause.

Following the strike and demonstrations, there have been incremental improvements in the legal aid policy. As of 2024, defense support staff now enjoy certain employment rights, such as guaranteed holidays, parental leave, and slightly increased salaries. However, major imbalances persist. Support staff still lack pay parity with similarly positioned professionals in the prosecution, and it is unclear whether our salaries will be adjusted for inflation as theirs are. In 2022, there was a 35–40% pay gap between identical positions across the two teams—and this gap has not been closed.

Poor treatment can also extend to internal team dynamics. Junior support staff are especially vulnerable to harassment, overwork, and lack of protections. Many are expected to work excessive hours without sufficient leave and, due to their precarious status, are often unable to speak up. Their working conditions depend on the goodwill and management of their Counsel. Even excellent Counsel may have no training or background in team leadership, which can lead to mismanagement over the five to seven years that cases can last.

Although the Registry has acknowledged some of the concerns raised by support staff, it has rarely followed up with concrete action or demonstrated genuine concern—failing in its responsibility to protect defense professionals from institutional vulnerability. The 2022 protests brought greater visibility to the struggles of defense support staff, and some improvements followed, but defense teams remain institutionally disadvantaged, undervalued, and under-resourced. These imbalances not only affect the defense’s ability to do their jobs, but also have serious implications for the fairness and integrity of international justice.

Conclusion

Support staff play a vital yet often unappreciated role in international criminal defense. There is immense pressure placed on them: from the overwhelming volume of evidence and unworkable short timeframes, to the lack of resources, and for years, basic employment protections. These dynamics can lead to burnout and even mistreatment, with few avenues for recourse. And yet, it is within this high-pressure environment that many support staff experience rapid professional growth. Despite these challenges, support staff demonstrate exceptional adaptability and dedication, contributing meaningfully to major international cases from early on in their careers. Looking forward, it is essential to reframe how defense support staff are seen—not as junior assistants, but as essential professionals in the international justice system. Ensuring that they are treated with fairness, respect, trust, and professionalism is not only a matter of equitable treatment, but a prerequisite for the legitimacy and effectiveness of the defense.

The Dangers of Selective State Support for International Tribunals - An Interview with Kate Gibson

The Dangers of Selective State Support for International Tribunals

An Interview with Kate Gibson

Edited by Cailan Cumming & Paul R. Williams

A Note on Defending Justice

This blog is part of the Defending Justice series, an initiative of the Public International Law & Policy Group (PILPG) to promote an eclectic array of voices within the field of international criminal law. 

As part of our broader efforts to strengthen institutions of justice, this series seeks to create space for dialogue around the varied perspectives and concerns that shape these institutions. With that aim in mind, we interviewed a series of defense practitioners working in international criminal law and distilled their experiences and insights into a series of first-person blogs, preserving the spirit and voice of those interviews.

Editor’s Note

This blog presents the reflections of defense lawyer Kate Gibson, who has appeared as counsel in some of the most significant cases in international criminal law. Drawing on her extensive experience before domestic, international, and hybrid tribunals, this blog examines the critical role states play in supporting international courts and how selective support can affect investigations, security, the rights of the accused, and the overall accountability process. Gibson offers practical recommendations for strengthening state engagement and shares her perspective on the institutional reforms needed to uphold fair trial guarantees in international courts. From the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR), International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), the Special Court for Sierra Leone (SCSL), and the International Criminal Court (ICC), Gibson’s work reveals both the promise and the deep flaws of the international criminal justice project, shedding light on some of the most overlooked aspects of the justice process.

Introduction

I have been involved in international criminal trials since 2005, representing former heads of state, military commanders, and victims in cases before a range of international criminal courts and tribunals. My former clients include the former Vice President of the Congo, Jean Pierre Bemba, Congolese militia leader Bosco Ntaganda, former Liberian President Charles Taylor, former President Radovan Karadzic of the Republika Srpska, and former Rwandan Minister Justin Mugenzi. Over the years, I have seen how international tribunals can step in to provide accountability where national systems are unwilling or unable to do so, but I have also witnessed how selective support for these justice mechanisms can undermine the goals that these institutions aim to achieve.

My path to appearing on behalf of accused before international criminal courts was not a deliberate one. Having left private practice in Australia to study international law at Cambridge University, I was fortunate enough to be offered an internship at the newly established International Criminal Court (ICC) in The Hague. Once in The Hague, I was determined to meet as many people as I could who were appearing before the Courts, and learn about what it was like to practice as an international criminal lawyer. 

This led me across the path of a young Dutch lawyer, Caroline Buisman, who was working as a Defence Legal Assistant in a defense team at the ICTR in Arusha. After we became friends, she asked if I would consider filling in for her during a trial session in Arusha, while she completed another trial at the ICTY. I was reluctant. It seemed mad to get on a plane to go and meet and work for people accused of being the masterminds of the 1994 Rwandan genocide. But once I stepped into the role, I came to understand the immense responsibility—and privilege—of defending accused and contributing to the shared goals of international justice. In the defense seat, I saw what it meant to contribute to the work of international institutions by fulfilling the defense’s role of testing the prosecution’s case, and advocating for fairness in the face of overwhelming public and political pressure. 

Over the course of two decades working in the defense field, international criminal justice has repeatedly proven itself to me to be imperfect. The courts are generally far from the communities affected by the crimes, and trials take place years after the events occurred in unfamiliar languages and legal cultures. Yet these institutions play a vital role, particularly in contexts where domestic judicial systems lack the capacity to conduct fair and transparent trials; in environments with insufficient political will to pursue justice; or in places in which trials could reignite conflict. 

The ICTR, for example, was established because Rwanda’s judiciary was considered in the aftermath of the genocide to be unable to address crimes of such severity and scale, especially within the social and political tensions found in Rwanda’s post-conflict society. The ICTY was seen as a necessary alternative to domestic prosecutions in the newly independent states of the former Yugoslavia, where political instability and ethnic divisions made the prosecution of international crimes impossible. In this context, the ICTY was seen as a neutral forum. Likewise, the Special Tribunal for Lebanon was set up in light of judicial corruption and political threats that made impartial justice unattainable in domestic courts. In addition to these tribunals, many countries have referred investigations and prosecutions to the ICC when lacking the capacity, resources, or desire to pursue them domestically.

After many varied experiences across the different international courts, I remain an avid proponent of the international justice project. However, these experiences have shown me that accountability is weakened when support for justice is selective. Too often, states and their domestic judicial systems cooperate enthusiastically with prosecutors, but give minimal support to defense teams or those acquitted or released by international courts. Defense investigations are hampered by bureaucracy, lack of access, and political resistance. And the decreasing resources dedicated by states to legal aid programs risks relegating the defense to a procedural formality, rather than recognizing defense teams as a fundamental counterweight to the prosecution.

If international justice is to live up to its ideal, a shift in culture is needed. This will require the courts to engage with states and reinforce that their commitment to international justice must extend past the front end of the process, that of investigation and prosecution of crimes. Unless state support includes support for defense teams, and for those acquitted or released by the courts, we risk eroding the legitimacy of these institutions and the entire international criminal justice project with it. With this in mind, this blog reflects on these challenges of selective support to international criminal trials, and offers ideas for a way forward. 

Selective State Support

State support is vital to the functioning of international criminal courts. These institutions depend on consistent and comprehensive state engagement, without which courts and tribunals cannot effectively pursue their mandates, enforce arrest warrants, secure evidence, or ensure the protection of witnesses. For both the defense and prosecution, support and cooperation from states is absolutely necessary in order for us to carry out our work. In practice, however, state support for international justice is often deeply selective. 

On one end of the spectrum, are states who seek to actively undermine the work of international courts, when perceived to be working against the interest of the state or their allies. This opposition to international justice has manifested in many different forms, ranging from the refusal to arrest and surrender accused, to the broad-ranging sanctions placed on individual ICC Judges by the United States government in 2025. This kind of outward hostility to the work of international courts is visible, and blatant. This blog focuses not on this kind of open opposition to international criminal trials, but rather will examine the impact of states who claim to be supportive of the international justice project, but who offer that support selectively. Meaning, those states who will choose when and how to cooperate and provide assistance based on what they consider as helpful to what they view as the goals of international justice. This starts with an examination of these perceived goals, and how these color the support provided to different actors within international criminal courts and tribunals.  

Accountability Culture and the Focus on Convictions

The starting point for many states, particularly for State Parties to the ICC, is the idea that the Court was established to “prevent impunity” for international crimes. In simple terms, to ensure that perpetrators of the worst atrocities in our collective modern history are no longer allowed to get away with it. With this overarching goal of preventing impunity as the starting point, it is easy to see how the purpose of international criminal trials is then seen by states as securing the conviction of these perpetrators, and facilitating lengthy prison sentences which reflect the gravity of the charged events. For this reason, we regularly see enthusiastic cooperation of states in those aspects of the courts’ work which appear to align with the goals of securing convictions; investigating and preparing cases, evidence collection, and facilitating the arrest and surrender of accused. In short, support for the “front-end” of international justice, and the work of the Office of the Prosecutor. 

 The problem is that criminal trials are not an exercise in convicting defendants. When conducted fairly, criminal trials are a narrow and almost clinical exercise wherein finders of fact determine whether the prosecuting authority has met its burden of proof on each of the elements of the charged crimes. This is, necessarily, an exercise that can end in one of two possible outcomes, an acquittal or a conviction. However, when convictions are considered to be the goal of international justice, acquittals are then seen as being failures, or as something having gone wrong. 

I experienced this most acutely following the acquittal of the former Vice President of the Congo, Mr. Jean-Pierre Bemba. Having been convicted at first instance and sentenced to 18 years imprisonment, Mr. Bemba’s conviction was then overturned on appeal by a majority of the ICC Appeals Chamber. At the time of his release in June 2018, I had been representing Mr. Bemba for nearly a decade, in a trial and appeal process that had been long, exhausting, and rendered infamous by the prosecution and conviction of his former case manager and co-counsel for offences against the administration of justice. 

The outrage that greeted Mr. Bemba’s acquittal and release was impossible to predict, and equally impossible to navigate. The poison and vitriol directed towards him, his defense team, the prosecutors who had apparently failed in their duty to secure a conviction, and even the majority Judges who had orchestrated this apparent travesty of justice, was prolonged and personal. When we reflect now years later on this reaction, it seems that much comes down to the widely held understanding that international criminal trials are successful when they result in convictions. Shortly after Mr. Bemba’s release, for example, we saw one of the ICC’s greatest supporters, Japan, expressing its deep concern about ICC acquittals, and urging the ICC to take steps “to prevent such unusual circumstances from happening again”. 

When states and institutions treat any outcome short of a conviction as a failure, justice becomes distorted. There will be cases which properly result in acquittals. For these to be treated by states as a failure, means that we have moved away from a criminal trial process, and towards an exercise in simply securing convictions. Victims and affected communities deserve accountability in order to move forward, but this justice must be meaningful. The quality and independence of justice—its evenhandedness, its integrity—is what gives it meaning for victims.

Meaningful justice does not come from prosecuting the easiest targets or securing convictions at any cost. It comes from ensuring that every trial is robust, balanced, and rooted in due process—supporting not only the voices of victims, but also the rights of the accused. Rather than securing convictions, the goal of international criminal justice is fair trials—trials that include a rigorous and independent defense, and where the outcome is determined by impartial fact-finders and led by the evidence.

The Impact of Selective State Support on Fair Trials

For these reasons, state support for international justice is overwhelmingly directed towards efforts to investigate and prosecute, to the detriment of the other aspects of an international criminal trial. This impacts on the efficacy of defense teams in many ways. 

Investigations

Central to the role of defense counsel is conducting effective investigations. From my own experience, I can say unequivocally: cases rise and fall depending on the quality of the investigations. Proper investigations must be able to involve gathering evidence, visiting the location of the charged crimes, interviewing witnesses, and verifying the facts that form the foundation of the trial. The ability to conduct unimpeded investigations is central to our work in defending clients. All these investigative tasks require, at a minimum, authorization from states. 

States respond differently to the defense because prosecutors investigate with the weight and authority of the court behind them. A letter from the Office of the Prosecutor carries institutional power and is more likely to receive cooperation from states. Defense teams, by contrast, face enormous challenges in securing the same level of cooperation. At the ICC, defense teams are required to submit any request for investigative assistance (RFAs) through the Registry, which adds another level of bureaucracy and delay. Then, according to ICC Registry’s own statistics, 75% of defense requests for cooperation of state parties go unanswered, reflecting the reality that states do not see it as part of their cooperation with the ICC to assist the efforts of defense teams to investigate on behalf of their clients. 

 In simple terms, if the defense is unable to visit physical sites, interview prisoners, access archives or sensitive records, or speak to victims, we cannot adequately challenge the prosecution’s case or build a meaningful response on behalf of the accused. A huge part of our work, and our ability to contribute to the fairness of the trials, is undermined. 

There is also an issue of security. In the Bemba case, for example, the defense was unable to investigate in the Central African Republic, being the country in which the crimes were alleged to have occurred. As such, we tried to speak with Central Africans who had been in the country at the time of the events, but had since moved outside the country, and were living in neighboring countries like Chad, Cameroon, or the Central African Republic. The problem being, these were not ICC States Parties, and did not recognize the authority of the Court, or the privileges and immunities of defense counsel. An official letter from the ICC stating that we are on mission carries little to no weight there, meaning that as defense lawyers we are investigating in a situation of significant personal risk.

This stands in stark contrast to investigations at earlier tribunals like the ICTY and ICTR, which were established under Chapter VII of the UN Charter. In Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia we were always safe. During official missions we had UN credentials, UN vehicles, UN security, and facilitated passage around these countries. That infrastructure does not exist for the ICC. Both prosecutors and the defense lack that level of institutional support or security. The impact is especially acute for defense as we are investigating outside of institutional infrastructures, and are often investigating actors that may be complicit in the alleged crimes.

Victim and Witness Cooperation

Another major challenge lies in engaging with witnesses and victim communities. In some situation countries, I have been overwhelmed by the willingness of victims and witnesses to meet, engage, and educate us about the conflict and atrocities they have suffered. This has not always been my experience. International criminal investigations regularly occur in the context of authority of the victor state whose narrative is being advanced through the trial process, and survivors know that there will be consequences from deviating from this official narrative, let alone from implicating the state authorities in criminal conduct. In this context, victims and witnesses have regularly refused to speak to those they perceive as working on behalf of the defense, which means we are investigating the side of the story that many are reluctant or afraid to tell.

This was my experience investigating in Rwanda. I had the privilege of representing three different accused before the ICTR in Arusha, in very different cases and contexts. In 2008, I was co-counsel to Jean-Baptiste Gatete, the former bourgmestre of Murambi commune in Rwanda during the genocide. He was accused of the murder of one of his neighbours in Murambi, and we had received  credible information that he had not been involved. We managed to find and interview other direct neighbors who agreed to meet with us, and recounted in detail what had happened on the morning of the charged event, and their accounts corroborated the fact that our client was not present. 

But when we asked them to provide witness statements, they refused to be involved and asked me never to tell anyone that I had spoken to them, or even to write down their names. They feared retaliation or ostracization. It was heartbreaking. I felt helpless, knowing that someone might be wrongfully convicted and I had no way to stop it. Prosecutors likely experience similar frustrations when they cannot secure needed evidence. But the regularity with which we are blocked from conducting meaningful investigations in a state which has an interest in the conviction of their former military or political adversaries is another concrete obstacle arising from selective state support. 

Exclusion and Funding

Defense teams at the ICTY and ICTR received sufficient resources and funding to effectively represent their clients. This is not the case at the ICC. This is not simply a question of the dramatic decrease in the resources made available to defense teams. This stripping back of resources is part of a larger structural problem, being the marginalization of the defense within international justice institutions. Defense counsel are systematically excluded from key forums, including the Assembly of States Parties. We are denied the opportunity to speak to states about the obstacles the defense faces or to advocate for changes that would improve the fairness and legitimacy of trials. This ensures that legal aid, set by the Assembly of States Parties, remains at insufficient levels, hindering our ability to effectively do our jobs. 

A solution here is for states to be sensitized to these issues and to the people and work of the defense. We are not “pro-perpetrator.” We are part of the legal process that tests the evidence, guards against wrongful conviction, and ultimately strengthens the credibility of the courts. If we are excluded from the conversations regarding the work of the Court, or not given the tools and support to do our jobs, then the entire international justice project suffers.

Forgotten Outcomes: Life Before and After Trial

When states limit their support to the front-end of international criminal trials, international courts lose the ability to secure support for other integral aspects of the trial process, such as the provisional release of suspects or defendants, or their re-integration into society after their release. This requires defense counsel to spend years providing pro bono support and assistance to clients who come out of the end of an international criminal justice process which renders them stateless, homeless, and with no hope of reuniting with their families. This has been the consistent reality for many former suspects and accused, including those who have been acquitted by the courts, or even released without charges ever having been confirmed. The international courts’ inability to secure state support for defendants is one of the overarching failures of the international criminal justice system which risks damaging the legacy of its proceedings. 

Pre-Trial Detention

While states are often eager to support high-profile arrests and the detention of individuals accused of international crimes, the same level of support does not exist for other aspects of the trial process. One of these aspects is provisional release. The case of Maxime Mokom provides a stark example. Mr. Mokom was arrested on the basis of an ICC arrest warrant in March 2022, and held in pre-trial incarceration for 19 months as a suspect, despite no charges ever being confirmed against him. According to the Rome Statute, pre-trial detention requires credible concerns that a suspect might flee or interfere with the justice process. 

In Mr. Mokom’s case, there was no such evidence. As such, in March 2023, he was deemed eligible by the Pre-Trial Chamber for provisional release with standard conditions: a host state to receive him and regular check-ins with local authorities. But not one of the ICC’s 125 member states saw it as their responsibility to facilitate his provisional release. As such, he remained in prison for no other reason but the selective support of ICC States Parties.

 As his defense team, we contacted the Assembly of States Parties and met with individual member states, emphasizing that Mr. Mokom’s continued detention was unlawful and constituted a violation of his rights. Yet no state saw it as their role to facilitate his release. The result? A suspect who was never charged remained in ICC detention for 19 months, until the Prosecution withdrew all charges, citing an absence of available evidence, and stating that there were no longer any viable prospects for conviction. If the ICC has no ability to facilitate provisional release, then it is unable to perform one of its core functions. The result being that there is no prospect of provisional release for ICC suspects and defendants, even those who do not fulfill the statutory grounds for pre-trial incarceration. The practical impact of selective state support is concrete, and significant. 

Post-Acquittal Release

In international criminal justice, there is an understandable focus on the trial itself. Yet, the full range of outcomes for accused persons goes far beyond a trial. Some suspects are held in pre-trial detention for years only to have the charges dropped. Others are acquitted of all charges, or later on appeal. Some are convicted and serve short sentences, and others long sentences. In certain cases, individuals have been first acquitted of particular charges, and later convicted of these charges on appeal. These divergent outcomes are an inherent part of any fair legal process, but what follows them reveals deep flaws in how the international community treats those it once detained.

We can see from experience that the international courts and tribunals have never consistently put in place a plan for what happens to the defendant after the trial ends, particularly where the trial ends in an acquittal or a sentence that does not result in the defendant dying in prison. The system is unresponsive to the issues of return, reintegration, and the basic protection of rights for those released. Statelessness becomes an issue, particularly for defendants who fear persecution, retaliation, or illegal detainment if they return to their country of citizenship. Many of these individuals are unable to rejoin their families, live normal lives, or access basic services. Some are left without identity documents, legal status, or any institutional support. The human cost of this apathy is significant.

Turning back, for example, to the case of Mr. Mokom, where the ICC Prosecutor withdrew the charges after 19 months of pre-trial detention. The withdrawal of charges led to Mr. Mokom’s release from the ICC Detention Facility. It did not, however, put him back in the position he had been in prior to his arrest and surrender to The Hague. Unable to safely return to the Central African Republic, Mr. Mokom is stateless, homeless, and survives only with the aid of local church groups while he waits to see if he is able to secure asylum in a safe third state. This, despite the ICC Registry sending numerous Requests for Assistance to ICC States Parties asking them to provide him with a home. Although the charges were dismissed, the stigma of being an ICC suspect remains. His release offered neither freedom nor dignity, and has exposed him to a life of poverty and insecurity, and the potential inability to ever reunite with his family. Again, states do not see they have a role to play in this back-end of international justice, despite their cooperation being the only path for former suspects and accused. 

Post-Trial Resettlement

The psychological toll of prolonged detention and the deprivation of liberty cannot be overstated. For those of us who have worked closely with detainees, we have seen firsthand how detention fundamentally changes people. Years in custody can leave deep mental health issues and negatively impact how the detainee functions in society. Even after release or acquittal, individuals face immense barriers in rebuilding their lives. Psychosocial and reintegration support, including assistance with employment and reunification with family, are all essential components of post-trial assistance, however today many of those released do not enjoy even basic freedoms.

The situation of the former ICTR defendants in Niger is a particularly troubling example. Despite its significant successes, a continued obstacle to the ICTR’s legacy is the ongoing statelessness of its acquitted and released people, six of whom have been stranded under house arrest in the Republic of Niger for several years. This crisis began on 5 December 2021, when nine ICTR acquitted or released persons were transferred to Niger by the International Residual Mechanism for Criminal Tribunals (IRMCT), pursuant to a Relocation Agreement between the government of the Republic of Niger and the United Nations, signed on 15 November 2021. 

These former defendants, all of whom had been acquitted or had completed their sentences, had spent years in legal limbo in Arusha, Tanzania. Among them was my client, Mr. Prosper Mugiraneza, a Rwandan lawyer and former prosecutor, who has himself studied international law in Europe and was even admitted to the ICC's List of Assistants to Counsel. After a 9-year trial process, Mr. Mugiraneza was acquitted of all charges by the ICTR Appeals Chamber in 2013. Despite this, he remained isolated in a safehouse in Arusha for years without identity documents and without the ability to work or reunite with his family. No state would accept him. France, where his wife and children live, refused to offer him asylum.

A plan was eventually brokered to relocate the men to Niger, a plan that was negotiated without any input from the nine former defendants. They were promised residence permits, a pathway to legal identity documents, and a one-time payment of $10,000 USD. Despite the obvious risks, Mr. Mugiraneza saw this as his only hope to obtain a passport that would allow him to finally see his family again, decades after they had been separated. Just two weeks after arriving, they were arrested, likely due to pressure from the Rwandan government, and stripped of their documents. They have now been detained in a house in appalling conditions for three years, with no freedom of movement, little food, no air conditioning, and in constant risk of malaria. Two of the men have died in extremely distressing circumstances. Mr. Mugiraneza, though acquitted more than a decade ago, will likely die in this house. This is a result of the ICTR having no plan for those acquitted or released after serving their sentence. 

When those acquitted by an international criminal court remain incarcerated despite their acquittals, this undermines the value of convictions, and accordingly the justice process itself. If the system can deprive a person of their liberty, but cannot restore it, then the legacy of these institutions is at stake. This gap has persisted for decades, and is a direct result of the failure to make any plans for what will happen to suspects and accused before their liberty is taken away. Social reintegration and protection of human rights and dignity of those released are integral parts of justice and accountability. 

There is undoubtedly hypocrisy at play: states claim to champion human rights and support international justice, but their commitment ends at the prison gates. For many states, international criminal justice is seen primarily as a mechanism for punishment. Reintegration, rehabilitation, or even basic liberty for released individuals is then someone else’s problem. The message this sends is deeply troubling—if you are not convicted, you are still not free, and your rights are still negotiable. If states support human rights and international justice, then this should include giving those released a chance at a dignified life at the completion of the justice process.

Post-Trial Proceedings 

In the aftermath of trials, much of the responsibility for finding solutions to post-trial issues falls on defense lawyers. International courts, however, provide funding for post-trial work only in very limited and exceptional circumstances. This leaves defense counsel bearing the burden of post-trial legal processes on their own, often without the necessary resources or institutional support. Unfortunately, there is a widespread assumption that these post-trial challenges are the defense lawyers’ problem, not the responsibility of the Tribunals themselves.

Unlike the Tribunal’s Registry, the President, or the court itself—who possess diplomatic clout and the power to engage governments—defense lawyers have no such leverage. We cannot simply walk into embassies or demand action from governments. Despite this, the international criminal courts rarely use their institutional power to support detainees after trials conclude. The expectation that defense counsel will devote years of unpaid, unresourced work to these complex issues is unrealistic and unfair. We continue, however, to advocate for ourselves, our clients, and for legal aid that covers post-trial support through publications, events, and continuing to raise awareness about these issues with states.

Ways Forward

Ensuring the Rights of the Accused

Even putting to one side those states who actively and publicly seek to undermine the work of international courts, the work of these institutions is compromised by the selective support of its proponents. States’ focus on the front end of criminal trials, and viewing the defense as an obstacle to the goals of international criminal justice, is arguably the greatest risk to the overall fairness and legitimacy of the resulting criminal process. The deprivation of liberty without a clear plan for reintegration risks not only the wellbeing of defendants but also the legacy of the work that so many of us have dedicated our professional careers to. 

Solutions are available. When tribunals arrest and detain individuals, they should also develop a long-term plan for the defendant if and when they are released. This plan should include assistance to help the former defendant rebuild their lives and reintegrate into society once their time in custody ends. Tribunals need to leverage their political and diplomatic authority to ensure that those who have been detained have access to essential support upon release. This includes assistance in securing identity documents, work permits, asylum status, psychosocial care, and housing.

A fundamental part of this process also requires adequate legal aid funding, including for post-conviction matters. Institutionalizing these protections and support mechanisms is crucial not only to uphold the rights of defendants but also to preserve the integrity and humanity of international criminal justice as a whole. The ICC’s legal aid policy must also be revised to ensure that defense teams have the necessary resources to give meaning to the equality of arms as between the Prosecution and the Defense. The international courts must dedicate resources to engaging with states about the importance of their support and cooperation to the defense, to allow it to fulfill its responsibilities effectively.

At the institutional level, greater inclusion of defense lawyers is essential, along with work to dismantle existing structural and logistical obstacles. Defense counsel must have a seat at the table, not just in the courtroom, but in policy discussions, institutional planning, and operational support. When international and hybrid courts are established, the structure and policies put in place must safeguard the ability of both the prosecution and defense teams to carry out their mandates safely and effectively. That includes protecting the security of personnel and ensuring field investigations are possible.

Equally important is a shift in how we talk about the work of international criminal justice, including its aims, culture, and the role of the defense in it. When those most affected by international crimes come to see these tribunals as biased or one-sided, the credibility of both individual trials and the Tribunals is placed at risk. What is needed is a cultural shift, both among states and within international institutions, away from a focus on convictions as the principal marker of success. 

The goal must be fair trials, where the evidence is tested rigorously and impartially, and international courts are found to be neutral and independent forums capable of delivering accountability that is accepted as legitimate by all sides. This requires states to reconsider their obligations to international justice and to recognize that cooperation with the defense is just as important to the overall legitimacy of the criminal justice process as cooperation with the prosecution. 

Only by addressing these structural imbalances and recalibrating the culture of international justice can we ensure that these courts fulfill their promise—not as tools of victor’s justice or symbolic punishment, but as genuine forums of accountability for victims.

Defending before the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia - An Interview with Anta Guissé

Defending before the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia

An Interview with Anta Guissé

Edited by Cailan Cumming, Kate Gibson & Paul Williams

A Note on Defending Justice

This blog is part of the Defending Justice series, an initiative of the Public International Law and Policy Group (PILPG) to promote an eclectic array of  voices within the field of international criminal law. 

As part of our broader efforts to strengthen institutions of justice, this series seeks to create space for dialogue around the varied perspectives and concerns that shape these institutions. With that aim in mind, we interviewed a series of defense practitioners working in international criminal law and distilled their experiences and insights into a series of first-person blogs, preserving the spirit and voice of those interviews.

Editor’s Note

In this blog, defense lawyer Anta Guissé reflects on the unique dynamics of hybrid tribunals, drawing from her extensive experience at the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC). As a defense lawyer for Khieu Samphan, a former high-ranking leader of the Khmer Rouge regime, Guissé discusses the historical narratives and local context that influenced her case, as well as the advantages of conducting tribunals in situ. Her first-hand experiences highlight how the symbolic nature of the ECCC trials, the immense pressure to secure convictions, and inconsistencies in applying modes of liability can undermine the foundational principles of law and justice. Guissé is a strong advocate for the integrity of the legal process and judicial discussion, and for uncovering the judicial truth and recognizing victims regardless of the trial’s outcome. Rather than building international criminal law around the desire to convict, Guissé challenges us to let the fundamentals of the rule of law work, regardless of public opinion, moral pressure, or political interference.

Introduction

My journey into international criminal defense was somewhat serendipitous. At the time I began my career, international criminal law had not yet developed into the specialized field it is today. In those early years, many of us working in international law came into the field through our experience in human rights or domestic criminal law. My own domestic career involved intervening on behalf of both the accused and victims, an experience I now draw upon when defending the accused before international tribunals.

It was through my former employer, Raphaël Constant, who had served as defense counsel for the former Rwandan military leader Théoneste Bagosora, that I first learned about international tribunals. After leaving his office, I was hired as a legal consultant for a defense team at the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR), and after working as a consultant in another case, I became a co-counsel in a third case. I subsequently joined the ECCC when my former co-counsel in my last case before ICTR (Kalimanzira v. The Prosecutor), Arthur Vercken, invited me to join the Khieu Samphan case—one of the most defining cases of my career, and the focal point of this blog. 

Defending clients in the context of mass atrocities is a challenge many are not willing to take on, but is one that I have found to be worth confronting since the beginning of my career. Ultimately, presenting the position of the client is the same in any practice of law, but when dealing with crimes of mass atrocities a defense lawyer is forced to examine events from multiple perspectives and keep an open mind amongst the immense pressure to follow the commonly accepted view of history and the prevailing narratives surrounding those events.  International criminal defense has not solely been a professional pursuit to me, but also a service to judicial truth focused on the responsibility of my client—a truth that can only emerge when both the defense and prosecution are fully empowered to understand and present the facts of a case in court. 

What follows are some of my reflections on the complex intersections of law, politics, and justice in the work of the ECCC, and the indispensable role of the defense in upholding the integrity of the international criminal justice system. It begins with a brief overview of the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC)—its origins, structure, and the historical context that shaped it. It then turns to the distinctive challenges of defending in a hybrid, in situ tribunal including the procedural dynamics of a court with mixed legal traditions, the significance of working across legal cultures and languages, the limitations on defense, and the tensions between symbolic justice and legal fairness. 

Through the lens of Khieu Samphan’s case, this blog examines how political pressures, funding constraints, time, and evolving modes of liability—particularly the use of joint criminal enterprise—shaped the trial process and strained legal integrity. Finally, it considers what, if anything, hybrid tribunals like the ECCC have contributed to the evolution of international criminal law, and what lessons that can be drawn to strengthen the international criminal justice system and the future work of international tribunals. 

Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC)

Cambodia’s Khmer Rouge regime, led by Pol Pot, seized power in 1975 and established the country as Democratic Kampuchea, a classless ‘agrarian utopia’ created by forcibly evacuating cities, abolishing currency, subjecting the population to intense labor under brutal conditions, and targeting perceived enemies, including intellectuals, minorities, and dissenters. This vision, influenced by both Marxist-Leninist and nationalist ideals, contributed to the policies that caused mass suffering and death. The result was catastrophic: an estimated 2 million Cambodians—or one in four people—perished due to executions, starvation, and forced labor in what became known as the Cambodian genocide. The regime collapsed in 1979 following Vietnam’s invasion.

The Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia was established in 2004 to provide long awaited justice. This hybrid tribunal, combining international and Cambodian legal frameworks, aimed to prosecute senior and non-senior leaders of the Khmer Rouge that were considered to be the most responsible for the crimes of genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes, destruction of cultural property, and select Cambodian Penal Code offenses. Operating in Phnom Penh, the ECCC sought to deliver justice in situ, embedding the process within the local context.

The ECCC tried a handful of high-profile cases. Case 001 convicted Kaing Guek Eav, head of the S-21 prison, for crimes against humanity. Case 002, the tribunal’s centerpiece, targeted senior Khmer Rouge leaders Nuon Chea, Khieu Samphan, Ieng Sary, who died during proceedings, and Ieng Thirith, who was found unfit to stand trial due to progressive dementia. Split into sub-trials, Case 002/01 addressed forced evacuations and executions of soldiers, while Case 002/02 tackled forced marriage, genocide, and other atrocities. Cases 003 and 004, which involved investigations of other Khmer Rouge officials, were mired in political controversy and never reached trial. Despite challenges such as political interference, funding shortages, and slow progress, the ECCC delivered significant verdicts, though its legacy remains debated.

Hybrid Court In Situ

Location

The ECCC’s physical and political location was deliberate. The court was technically situated in Phnom Penh, but in reality it sat on the outskirts of the city, in a military compound that had been artificially included within the capital’s boundaries as part of the negotiated arrangement between the Cambodian government and the United Nations. This physical separation was not insignificant, it contributed to a sense of insulation from the political heart of the city, and from the more acute political pressures that in situ tribunals often face. It also, perhaps intentionally, placed the proceedings more out of view from the public.

The fact that proceedings were held in the country where the crimes occurred shaped every aspect of our work. Being on Cambodian soil brought the defense team closer to the history, culture, and people most affected by the Khmer Rouge regime. Being in Cambodia allowed us to walk the ground—visiting key sites, meeting survivors, and seeing with our own eyes the places the alleged events occurred. 

Public pressure and safety concerns often accompany in-country tribunals, but I felt less at-risk than my counterparts in other cases at the ECCC. The events I was litigating had occurred forty years earlier, and my client Khieu Samphan held little significance to the public, especially to younger generations who were not as familiar with him. Our team was able to speak and act with a measure of independence that, in many international legal contexts, can be hard to come by. ​​But not all of the accused at the ECCC were seen the same way. In Cases 003 and 004, which involved individuals who remained closer to the contemporary political elite, the tribunal came under far greater political interference from the Cambodian government and these cases ultimately collapsed. 

Perceptions of Local Communities 

Despite being physically located in Cambodia, the ECCC often felt distant from the lives of everyday Cambodians. In theory, the tribunal’s presence on national soil was meant to bring justice closer to the people, foster awareness, and offer a sense of collective reckoning with the past. But in practice, many Cambodians were unaware that the tribunal was even operating. Among those who did know, opinions varied widely.

For one, a significant portion of the population had little personal memory of the Khmer Rouge regime. The crimes prosecuted had occurred more than 40 years earlier. Many people simply hadn’t been born yet, or were too young to remember. The crimes during the Khmer Rouge era, for many, was not a matter of lived experience but of distant history—something they had learned about, but not something they felt intimately connected to.

From where I sat, it felt like people were watching from afar. It is not a popular perspective, especially from the standpoint of the official ECCC outreach and communications efforts. They worked hard to engage the public. Buses were organized to bring villagers to court and sometimes people would wake up as early as 3 a.m. to travel long distances just to be present in the courtroom for a few hours. That level of commitment speaks volumes. But at the same time, it does not necessarily reflect widespread engagement or understanding. Whether or not the trials resonated with the general population depended heavily on the community. Some communities were better informed, often because of the targeted outreach or the presence of civil society organizations, while others remained detached.

The reality is that the legal proceedings were complex and often inaccessible. The hearings were dense with legal argument, procedural back-and-forth, and references to international jurisprudence. For many in attendance, especially those without legal training or prior exposure to international criminal law, it was difficult to follow. Some tuned in during major moments, like when a judgment was handed down, or when the trial was featured in a television program. Victims, too, came to court and followed the process closely, particularly those who had participated directly as civil parties. But beyond those moments, it is hard to say that the general public was actively following the trial day to day.

Cambodia’s political climate at the time was also tense. Democracy was increasingly hollowed out. Human rights abuses were ongoing, and political opposition was curtailed. In such a context, it is understandable that many Cambodians had more immediate concerns than a decades-old accountability process. Daily survival, political uncertainty, and social struggles were far more pressing for most people than the inner workings of the courtroom. In the end, while the ECCC aimed to bring international justice home, the connection between court and community was often limited—shaped as much by politics and daily realities as by legal process or historical memory.

Political Context

Understanding the crimes committed under the Khmer Rouge regime requires situating them within the broader geopolitical landscape of the time. Any analysis of what happened in Cambodia between 1975 and 1979 that overlooks the Vietnam War, the Cold War, and the resulting climate of nationalism and suspicion toward foreign influence misses crucial context. The crimes did not occur in a vacuum. The Khmer Rouge’s ideology and actions were shaped, in part, by Cambodia’s fraught relationships with its neighbors and the broader international order. Cambodia became a battleground, both literally and ideologically, between communist and anti-communist forces. The Khmer Rouge regime was intensely nationalistic and paranoid about foreign influence, which shaped an ideology that sought to purge Cambodia of capitalist systems and fueled internal purges, border attacks, and the targeting of ethnic minorities like the Vietnamese and Cham people. Understanding this climate of suspicion helps explain why the regime viewed large segments of its own population as traitors or enemies.

Revolution and nationalism can carry different meanings to people with differing histories. For countries that gained independence through long and protracted struggles, concepts like revolution can hold a different moral and political weight. Understanding the Khmer Rouge’s ideological mission as an extreme outcome of a radicalized, nationalistic response to perceived external and internal threats provides context as to why certain policies were pursued. This context informed some of our defense positions. We did not seek to excuse crimes or minimize suffering, but we aimed to explain the conditions and motivations that shaped individual and collective actions at the time. These historic and factual layers matter, and it is our role as defense lawyers to bring them to light. Unfortunately, in international criminal trials, we are often given very little space, either in terms of time or pages, to fully articulate this context.

Hybrid Framework

In addition to the location, the court’s hybrid framework brought unique perspectives, tools, and challenges. Every chamber and organ, including investigative judges, prosecutors, and defense, had to be composed of both Cambodian and international members. Judicial decisions had to be reached jointly by national and international judges, meaning every step of the judicial process required careful communication across cultural and legal traditions.

This structure profoundly shaped how the court and teams operated and created an environment of strong collaboration. Cambodian lawyers and local translators brought essential linguistic, legal, and cultural fluency to the team. All court documents had to be filed in Khmer, French, and English so that every judge could follow proceedings in their working language. Working across three languages was demanding, but our trilingual jurist Seng Socheaya became the team linchpin who held everything together. 

A mixed national-international team was essential in shaping each lawyer’s legal and professional approaches into a unified vision that took local customs and norms into consideration. Even the seemingly straightforward task of preparing questions for a witness became challenging when approached from different legal traditions and cultural norms. What might be a perfectly acceptable question in a Western courtroom could be misunderstood—or even offensive—in a Cambodian context. Local norms shaped not only how questions were asked, but how witnesses responded, and how the evidence was interpreted. In the end, the hybrid structure of the ECCC, while complex and sometimes unwieldy, was essential to its legitimacy and effectiveness.

        Investigations

The investigative process at the Extraordinary Chambers was unique in its procedural grounding within the Cambodian legal tradition, which itself draws heavily on the French civil law system. This had a tangible effect on how evidence was gathered, presented, and evaluated throughout the trial process. The Prosecution conducted its investigation and presented it to the investigating judges, while the defense played a limited role in the investigation phase. Although defense lawyers could submit requests to the investigating judges, they could not conduct field investigations as they often do at other international tribunals. As a result, defense teams at the ECCC were confronted with an immense case file with unfamiliar evidence, which presented a greater obstacle to the trial process than in any other international or hybrid tribunal. On my part, I only arrived in the case at the trial stage.

This created significant hurdles in preparing an effective defense, particularly given the scale and complexity of the charges, which spanned more than four years and involved events across the entire country. The volume of evidence which we were required to review was staggering as the investigating judges could admit virtually anything into the record—including entire books. In my perspective, this overwhelming amount of material was the greatest challenge, and marks one of the most striking differences between domestic and international defense practice.

Witness statements were obtained in a formal way before the investigative judges, a process I was more familiar with as someone trained in civil law systems. Common law systems place more weight on the adversarial process, with cross-examination serving as the principal method of testing the reliability and truthfulness of evidence. While this method was present at the ECCC, the pre-trial investigative process laid a far more substantial foundation for the eventual trial proceedings. In addition, most of the interviews at the ECCC were recorded, allowing both the Prosecution and Defense to assess how the statements had been produced. For instance, we could determine if the statements were in response to an open, direct, or leading question. Through this our team had a clearer sense of if the translation of statements was poor or inconsistent, if the victim may not have understood the question, if the question was asked in an aggressive way, or if the victim may have been nervous in providing his or her answer. The national lawyers were especially important in verifying and analyzing the contents of the statements.

In other international tribunals, like the ICC, witnesses are only heard in the field by prosecution investigators. The defense only receives the finalized statement, and does not have insight into the investigative or interview process. Teams do not have information about the context in which the statements were made, making it difficult to evaluate the witness statements and assess the quality or reliability of the evidence. The ECCC model on that specific aspect offers important lessons for international courts like the ICC, particularly in demonstrating how greater transparency in the investigative and interview process can enhance the evaluation of evidence and the fairness of trials.

Funding and Timing

In theory, international criminal law is about fairness, due process, accountability, and closure for victims. In practice, international criminal tribunals are politically and financially driven, shaped by the interests and expectations of the states and institutions that create and fund them. Donors do not fund tribunals expecting acquittals. The money comes with expectations, often unspoken but deeply understood: justice, in the eyes of many funders, means convictions. It means holding someone responsible, visibly and symbolically. If trials result in acquittals, the tribunal is seen by many as a failure.

The ECCC was supposed to be co-funded by the Cambodian government and international donors, but the Cambodian side often failed to meet its obligations. When that happened, operations ground to a halt—interpreters would strike, proceedings would pause, and uncertainty would set in. Eventually, another donor would always step in to bridge the gap, but not without delay and disruption. A court that existed to serve impartial justice found itself constrained by the funding cycles and political priorities of distant capitals.

The tribunal was enormously expensive, but for all its ambition and symbolism, the ECCC heard only a handful of cases. The length of the trials, the complexity of the hybrid system, and the layers of translation and coordination made the process slow and costly. These tensions were compounded by time constraints. The ECCC began its work decades after the crimes and many of the accused were elderly and in poor health. From the outset, there was a race against the clock to ensure that trials concluded before defendants died or became unfit to stand trial. This urgency led to a series of procedural choices, such as severing case 002 into multiple, smaller trials. The idea was to simplify the case into specific issues and expedite the process. But in practice, it had the opposite effect.

Rather than streamlining the proceedings, severance led to duplication. Issues litigated in the first trial 002/01 resurfaced in the second 002/02. Legal determinations from one case influenced the other in ways that undermined procedural fairness. We found ourselves constantly revisiting arguments and rulings, trying to untangle their consequences for our defense strategy, and litigating issues that impacted the fairness of procedures in the second trial. The clock was always ticking, but the shortcuts meant to save time ended up costing more of it.

And as proceedings dragged on, money and motivation ran thin. Donors became less enthusiastic. Resources dwindled. The brunt of the time pressure fell to the defense team who were expected to review thousands of pages of evidence under short timeframes, perform under impossible deadlines, and respond quickly to shifting legal frameworks. Looking forward, there are lessons to be learned. Prosecutors might consider bringing fewer, better-supported charges. Narrowing the scope to focus on the strongest evidence could result in shorter, more effective trials and it would also help preserve the credibility of the institutions.

Defending the Principles of Law

At the center of international criminal trials is the determination of individual criminal liability. These courts ultimately are not truth commissions, nor are they tasked with writing history. Their mandate is legal, and their aims are rooted in principles of law. For defense counsel, this means our job is not to deny the tragic crimes that occurred or to dismiss the suffering of victims. Rather, it is to test the prosecution’s case and the alleged implication of our client within the proposed evidence.

Objectivity is the starting point. A defense lawyer must work constantly to remove preconceived notions and personal reactions in order to analyze the evidence as neutrally as possible. The defense hopes—and expects—that judges and observers do the same. In my experience, the most dedicated defense lawyers hold profound respect for the victims and for those who have suffered, but ultimately are required to question whether their client is legally and individually responsible for specific acts. That is the fundamental purpose of the defense lawyer.

Symbolic Justice

International and hybrid tribunals tend to operate under immense political and symbolic pressure. The accused often become stand-ins for entire regimes or histories of violence. When only a few individuals are tried for mass atrocities, the pressure to convict those individuals increases, especially in the early stages of a tribunal’s life. At the ECCC, moral outrage, public sentiment, and political optics sometimes threatened to override the principles of law. But defense lawyers have a duty to hold the line. We are not there to deliver moral verdicts. We are there to ensure that legal standards are upheld, even when the events in question are horrifying and the public demands punishment. If symbolism is permitted to eclipse substance, then the tribunals risk undermining the foundation of the system it seeks to uphold.

       Jurisprudence

The trials at the ECCC were designed to represent justice on a grand scale. But that symbolism could sometimes overshadow the substance of the law. The Court was supposed to judge the accused according to the legal framework that existed in Cambodia between 1975 and 1979 but in practice, the jurisprudence applied to their cases was often drawn from international rulings that came decades later—particularly from the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) and International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda. That meant retroactively applying legal standards that had not existed at the time of the alleged crimes and that the accused could not forsee, raising fundamental concerns about legality and fairness.

In my case at the ECCC, the central legal issue was whether it was justifiable to convict my client Khieu Samphan, who held a particular leadership position at the time of the conflict, for acts he neither committed nor ordered, in locations he had never set foot in. Could he have known, between 1975 and 1979, that he bore legal responsibility for certain crimes under a theory of liability that did not yet exist? That was the question my team posed to the Chamber. We maintained throughout that our submission was both factually and legally correct. While the verdict ultimately did not reflect our position, the full submission reveals legal and factual issues that are far more complex than the conviction suggests. 

Legal Integrity

One of the major challenges in the Samphan case involved the principle of legal integrity—the idea that the law must be applied consistently and fairly, without bending principles to achieve a desired outcome. The mode of liability that the prosecution ultimately used to secure the conviction, that of joint criminal enterprise, did not appear in the original indictment. Instead, it was introduced and built into the case over time, during the trial itself. Joint criminal enterprise, a doctrine developed by the judges of the ICTY, permits conviction for crimes that an accused did not commit or intend, if those crimes were foreseeable outcomes of a common criminal plan. It remains highly controversial, in part because of its attenuated connection between the accused and the acts in question.

This shift in the trial process felt as though the legal system had been subtly recalibrated to ensure a conviction. This is a problem that many defense lawyers face in international criminal law. Despite the appearance of adherence to the law, the reality is that no judgment in international criminal law is ever based on law alone. Social context, political expectations, and the legal, personal, and cultural backgrounds of judges all exert an influence. A judge may feel morally opposed to acquitting someone who is seen as a symbol of a brutal regime, even if that is what the law requires. That pressure can shape how modes of liability are interpreted and applied, and what kinds of evidence are considered sufficient to establish criminal responsibility. 

The definitions of crimes are clear, but the modes of liability for the accused are not. The uncertainty in how judgements are rendered makes the defense’s work highly unpredictable and undermines the rights to a fair trial. But defense lawyers ultimately do not make the final decision, and it is someone else who bears that final responsibility. We can only present the applicable law, apply it to the facts, and argue the elements as rigorously as possible. Even in defeat, we hope that the legal reasoning we advance through our submissions will be seen and acknowledged by others. At the very least, we aim to leave behind a clear and principled record that others can examine and use in the future—one that upholds the integrity of legal reasoning, even when the conclusion is politically or morally contested.

The work of a defense lawyer does not stop at the courtroom door. In my client’s case, he was more than 80 years old and struggled with the conditions of detention. We had to continually litigate to secure better conditions for him and ensure that his basic human rights were respected. This work outside of the courtroom matters. It is part of maintaining the fundamental integrity of the law: that every person, no matter who they are or what they have been accused of, has rights. Detention during trial is not about punishment; it is about safeguarding the process while preserving the rights of prisoners. Upholding those rights, both inside and outside the courtroom, is also central to the defense lawyer’s role.

Understanding the Basis for Conviction

My client, Khieu Samphan, was an educated man who had studied in France. We got along well and he enjoyed discussing French literature and politics, and had a broad curiosity about the world. But despite this rapport, there were also significant generational gaps, especially when it came to explaining the legal theory underpinning his prosecution. The idea of joint criminal enterprise was difficult to transmit—not just to the client, but also to many lawyers and judges. How do you explain to someone that they are being held criminally responsible for crimes they neither ordered, committed, nor knew about because their presence at a meeting is interpreted as joining a common plan? It is a profoundly complex legal construct. 

Samphan read extensively about the Khmer Rouge from the outside—what others had written about the regime that he had been part of. He was not wealthy, nor did he profit from the regime in the way some others might have. He spent years living in the jungle in basic conditions, and then in prison. I imagine that for an elderly person, confronting such a radically different version of the reality that you had lived, as told by others, was difficult.

Despite his old age, Samphan was committed to understanding his trial and prosecution. He read every document in the case file. He actively participated in the defense and was capable of pointing out issues. He could become frustrated, and understandably so. After a hearing he might say, “I have never even been there, I do not know this place!”. I would have to explain the nuances of joint criminal enterprise—that by attending certain meetings, the prosecution argued he became responsible for crimes committed elsewhere. That is a tough idea to accept for a criminal lawyer, let alone the accused himself. By the end of the trial, I believe Samphan understood the implications of joint criminal enterprise and why, in the eyes of the tribunal, he was there.

This understanding does not just matter for the accused, it matters for the victims too. It is important that victims understand the legal basis for a conviction or acquittal. Otherwise, they may feel that justice has not been done if the direct perpetrator is not the one on trial, or when the legal requirements for criminal responsibility of the one accused were simply not met. 

Reflections on the Tribunal’s Legacy

Overall, many of the legal principles that emerged from the ECCC were problematic, and I hope they do not shape the future of international criminal law. I left the tribunal with deep reservations about what the ECCC contributed to developing legal doctrine, particularly in regards to its use of joint criminal enterprise and its departure from the principle of legality. Still, there is one silver lining: when you fight your case and finish your submission, the judges are required to issue a reasoned decision. The legal arguments are there, on record, for other lawyers, scholars, and future practitioners to evaluate against the decision. They can read the submissions, the judgment, and the reasoning, and come to their own conclusions. Few people are reading the thousands of pages that make up these decisions. But perhaps in the future—when the dust has settled—there will be more appetite for that kind of close reading and reflection.

Still, the ECCC was not without some value. One positive contribution was the demonstration that a hybrid model of justice could be implemented within a national legal system like Cambodia’s. It also exposed Cambodian judges and lawyers to a different model of justice. Cambodian society is deeply codified, and for many national defense lawyers there had long been a sense of hesitation or deference toward prosecutors and judges. Working alongside international defense lawyers showed what a strong, adversarial defense could look like in practice and the judges became more open to this approach. I believe that that experience was meaningful. But ultimately, it is up to Cambodian lawyers and judges to determine what they took from it and how they will build on it in the years to come.

Ways Forward

One of the enduring challenges in international criminal law is how to meaningfully acknowledge and address the suffering of victims. In any large-scale atrocity, not every crime can be prosecuted, nor every victim represented in court. A good prosecutor must build a case around the strongest evidence, which means focusing on specific incidents and locations where the credibility of witnesses and documentation is highest. This inevitably leaves many victims feeling frustrated and unseen when the violence they endured falls outside the charges or is not directly linked to the accused.

Currently, international criminal law ties victim compensation to a conviction. This is a major flaw in the system. Victims suffer harm regardless of whether a conviction is secured. In some national systems, like in France, compensation is still available even when an accused is acquitted—acknowledging that the harm itself is real and deserving of redress. International law needs to move in this direction.

In addition, justice cannot be reduced to symbolic trials of a few high-ranking individuals but rather these tribunals must be part of a broader system that supports national courts in prosecuting a wider range of perpetrators and crimes. It is an illusion to think that only elite actors or high-profile figures are responsible for atrocities. Such crimes occur within systems—enabled by institutions, policies, and social environments. Trials can illuminate these enabling structures, but they cannot dismantle or reform them. Tribunals do not mark the end or the concluding chapter of a conflict, but rather true prevention of mass atrocities require a commitment to confronting the broader social and political conditions that allow these crimes to occur in the first place.

We like to imagine that international criminal law represents the highest ideals of justice—that it is the most advanced, principled system. But the reality is more complex. Like any legal system, it is flawed. In fact, it often requires extraordinary intellectual and legal contortions to convict people who were not physically present when the crimes occurred. The system, as it stands, demands legal constructions that would be unthinkable in most national jurisdictions. Based on this, I believe it is important for international practitioners to have experience in domestic jurisdictions in order to retain a grounded sense of what criminal liability should mean. In this way, these practicioners do not lose sight of the principles that anchor criminal law—principles that can easily become abstract or distorted at the international level. 

Conclusion 

Reflecting on the experience of defending at the ECCC brings with it a mix of hard-learned lessons, professional concerns, and cautious hope. The tribunal was shaped by its exceptional nature: the scale and gravity of the crimes charged, the sheer volume of evidence, and the long passage of time between the atrocities and the judicial response. These factors made the task of delivering justice uniquely challenging.

The proximity of the court to the alleged crimes provided a rare opportunity for contextualized justice and working in-country, alongside Cambodian lawyers and judges, brought a partnership and immediacy to our work. The hybrid structure—though often politically and logistically strained—allowed for moments of genuine collaboration and mutual learning. We witnessed changes in how national actors perceived the role of the defense and saw the emergence of a more adversarial, rights-respecting understanding of justice. For Cambodian defense lawyers, this exposure may have been particularly significant, as it offered an alternative model to traditional courtroom hierarchies.

At the same time, there were serious limitations. Defense teams had little opportunity for field investigations and limited time to review an already completed case file. And while the symbolism of the trials drew some international and local attention, it often amounted to performative justice rather than meaningful redress for victims. 

The development of legal doctrine at the ECCC left troubling legacies, particularly in its interpretation of joint criminal enterprise and the principle of legality. Too often, international criminal law has relied on abstract constructs to secure convictions of those far from the physical crime scenes, distorting fundamental legal principles. That distortion is not just technical—it speaks to a deeper challenge in international criminal justice. When legal principles are bent to meet political or symbolic aims, the legitimacy of the entire system is called into question. Justice, especially in this context, must resist the urge to perform. It must remain principled, predictable, and firmly grounded in law.

Moving forward, several lessons are clear. International trials must be more realistic in scope and timing. They cannot carry the full burden of transitional justice alone. National jurisdictions must be better supported and equipped to handle a broader range of cases, and the assumption that only high-level perpetrators matter must be re-examined. Donor support is critical and it must go beyond convictions—it must also support the rights of the accused and the adequate functioning of the defense. 

In the end, the legitimacy of international criminal law depends not just on convictions or symbolism, but on the integrity of the process itself. And for that process to be truly just, it must resist the pressure to sacrifice principle for expedience, or to bend the law in service of public opinion. For defense counsel, the task remains as demanding as it is necessary. We are called not just to defend the accused, but to uphold the principles of law. Even when it is unpopular. Even when it is inconvenient. Because it is in those moments that the integrity of the system is tested and hopefully, preserved.