Plunder by Paperwork: Land Use and Legal Manipulation in Russian-Occupied Ukrainian Territories

Plunder by Paperwork: Land Use and Legal Manipulation in Russian-Occupied Ukrainian Territories

By: Kateryna Kyrychenko and Patricia Wiater

In war, land is more than terrain — it is power, memory, identity, and future. Nowhere is this clearer than in the Russian-occupied territories of Ukraine, where the battle is being waged not only with weapons but with registries, decrees, and legal manipulation. Russia’s strategy in Ukraine has not merely been to seize land — but to rewrite the law that governs it. Through reclassification, coerced registration, and demographic engineering, the occupying power is attempting to transform occupation into ownership — to fabricate a claim to sovereignty through legal means.

Beneath a facade of administrative normalcy lies a systematic campaign of illegal appropriation — one that violates both international humanitarian law and human rights protections. This blog post outlines the legal framework governing land under occupation, examines how Russia has sought to subvert it, and explains why land law is now a frontline of resistance.

From Crimea to Kherson: Bureaucratic Expropriation in Practice

Across occupied Ukrainian territories, Russia has used administrative mechanisms to entrench control and erase legal protections.

• In Crimea, following the 2014 annexation, vast tracts of public and private land were reclassified as federal Russian property. Ukrainian state lands, municipal holdings, and Crimean Tatar-owned plots were expropriated or re-registered. Since 2021, non-Russian citizens have been banned from owning land in most of Crimea — a policy that disenfranchises those who refused to accept Russian citizenship.

• In Donbas, beginning in 2014 with Russia’s covert military intervention and support for proxy forces, Ukrainian land and property registries were dismantled and replaced by pseudo-legal systems imposed by Russian-controlled occupation regimes calling themselves the “Luhansk People’s Republic” (LPR) and “Donetsk People’s Republic” (DPR). These unrecognized structures created legal ambiguity, making property rights difficult to verify, undermining restitution and obstructing future reconstruction or justice efforts.

• In the occupied parts of Kherson and Zaporizhzhia oblasts, landowners have been pressured to re-register under Russian law. Fertile land has been exploited for Russian agricultural exports, while resettlement programs are relocating Russian citizens — particularly military families — into seized Ukrainian property.

These policies are not ad hoc — they are deliberate attempts to engineer demographic change, dismantle Ukrainian sovereignty, and normalize conquest through legal infrastructure.

Occupation Is Not Sovereignty: The Legal Framework

International humanitarian law (IHL) draws a fundamental distinction between control and ownership. Under Article 55 of the 1907 Hague Regulations, an occupying power is not a sovereign but a usufructuary — a temporary administrator entitled to use public land only in ways that safeguard the capital of these properties, and administer them in accordance with the rules of usufruct. Article 46 of the 1907 Hague Regulations prohibits confiscation of private property, and Article 147 of the Fourth Geneva Convention further declares destruction and appropriation of property where “not justified by military necessity” as grave breaches of IHL.

In parallel, international human rights law (IHRL) continues to apply during occupation. The European Court of Human Rights (ECHR), in Ukraine v. Russia (Crimea), held that Russia had engaged in a systemic large-scale campaign of expropriation in violation of Article 1 of Protocol No. 1 to the European Convention on Human Rights. Crucially, these actions lacked due process and military necessity — making them both illegal and irreversible.

When IHL Meets Human Rights and Self-Determination

Land use in occupied territory implicates more than property rights — it raises questions of self-determination, protected under Article 1 of both the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights. Populations under occupation retain the right to control their resources. Any use of land — especially for trade, infrastructure, or extraction — must reflect local consent, not imposed authority.

The EU-Morocco trade cases before the Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU) provide a clear illustration of the link between economic exploitation and the right to self-determination. The case at hand concerned the EU-Morocco Association Agreement that establishes a framework for political, economic, and cultural cooperation between the European Union and Morocco. On 4 October 2024, the CJEU upheld the General Court’s decision to annul a Council Decision approving an amendment to the EU-Morocco Association Agreement. The Court ruled that the European Commission and Council violated the Saharawi people's right to self-determination by failing to obtain their consent.

The Court clarified that the right to self-determination means that the consent of a people in a non-self-governing territory to an international agreement may only be presumed if certain conditions are met. First, the agreement must not impose any obligations on that people. Second, it must guarantee that the people receive clear, substantial, and verifiable benefits from the use of their natural resources, proportional to the level of exploitation. These benefits must be managed sustainably and subject to regular monitoring to ensure the people actually receive them.

Although these principles were articulated specifically in the context of Western Sahara as a non-self-governing territory under the UN Charter, their significance extends more broadly. Consent and representation are crucial: The right to self-determination requires that the people of an occupied territory have their consent recognized, whether generally or in the specific context of international trade agreements between the occupying power and third parties affecting their land and resources. Economic development imposed without the involvement of the occupied people cannot legitimize or cure the illegality of the occupation.

Legal Divergence — But Russia Meets No Standard

The crucial issue of whose benefit land exploitation must serve – and who has to be involved to determine this – is also relevant to the interpretation of Article 55 of the 1907 Hague Regulations mentioned earlier. Some judicial opinions — such as Israel’s High Court in the Yesh Din case — have taken a broader view of usufruct, allowing that a state holding occupied territories is allowed to administer the property in the occupied territory and “to enjoy the fruits of such property’ – up to the boundaries of depletion or exhaustion. However, even this extensive approach that does not center around the clear, substantial, and verifiable benefits of the population concerned still demands formal compliance and proportionality. Russia’s actions do not meet even this lower bar. In its Advisory Opinion on the Occupied Palestinian Territory, the International Court of Justice unequivocally endorsed a more restrictive interpretation of Article 55: land may be used only temporarily, for the “benefit of the local population”, and with preservation of capital. 

Exporting grain, installing settlers, and dismantling registries are not mere administrative acts of this kind — they are forms of dispossession.

What’s at Stake: Beyond the Frontlines

Land law underpins restitution, reconstruction, and justice. If the international community tolerates Russia’s manipulation of legal frameworks, it risks legitimizing conquest by paperwork. This has global implications: if the law can be rewritten by force, no occupied people’s rights are safe.

Ukraine has already declared these actions null and void under its Constitution and criminal law. Articles 13 and 14 of the Constitution affirm that land and natural resources belong to the Ukrainian people. No foreign decree can change that. What is needed now is international reinforcement of that principle through legal non-recognition, strategic litigation, and sanctions against the economic beneficiaries of expropriation.

Conclusions

At the heart of Russia’s occupation lies not only military aggression but legal manipulation. Russia’s strategy aims to convert temporary control into permanent authority through legal coercion. By reshaping land law, citizenship rules, and property records, it seeks to make occupation look ordinary — even inevitable.

But the law of occupation is built on the opposite premise: that illegality cannot be normalized through administration. No decree, registry, or zoning map can erase the rights of a people or the sovereignty of a state. If this manipulation is allowed to stand, the precedent will not stop at Ukraine. It will signal that land can be stolen with paperwork, that registries can replace resistance, and that conquest can be clothed in legal formality.

Occupation is not ownership. Annexation is not administration. War is no justification for theft. If the law is to matter in peace, it must be defended in war.

Russia’s Proposal Is Not Peace — It’s a Proposal for Legalized Surrender Demanded at Gunpoint

Russia’s Proposal Is Not Peace — It’s a Proposal for Legalized Surrender Demanded at Gunpoint

By: Sindija Beta, Dr. Paul R. Williams, and Kateryna Kyrychenko

When Russia put forward its latest “peace proposal” in Istanbul on June 2, 2025, it asked Ukraine to do the impossible: abandon its own rights and legitimize aggression. 

Though framed as a diplomatic initiative, the proposal is not a peace plan—it is a legal and political ultimatum. It calls for Ukraine to forfeit its sovereignty, renounce its territorial integrity, and relinquish rights guaranteed by the UN Charter and customary international law. Acceptance of such terms would not only violate Ukraine’s legal and constitutional order; it would also deal a devastating blow to the international rule-of-law framework that—however fragile—continues to serve as a foundation for global stability and restraint in inter-state conduct.

Legalizing the Illegal: Recognition of Unlawful Annexation

Foremost among the proposal’s legally indefensible demands is the requirement for the international legal recognition of Russia’s purported annexation of Crimea, Donetsk, and Luhansk oblasts, and parts of Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson oblasts —territories internationally recognized as part of Ukraine. This demand directly violates Article 2(4) of the United Nations Charter, which prohibits the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state.

The prohibition on acquiring territory through the use of force is a peremptory norm of international law (jus cogens). It is reaffirmed by the UN General Assembly Resolution 2625 (XXV) on the “Declaration on Principles of International Law concerning Friendly Relations and Co-operation among States,” which provides unequivocally that no territorial acquisition resulting from the threat or use of force shall be recognized as legal. Accordingly, Russia's claim to these territories is legally null and void. For Ukraine to recognize such annexations would not only contravene its own rights but also contribute to the erosion of a foundational norm of international law.

Undermining State Sovereignty and the Right to Self-Defense

Russia's proposal further demands that Ukraine declare neutrality, renounce military alliances, ban the presence of foreign troops, and reduce the size and capability of its armed forces. These requirements are incompatible with sovereign equality, a principle enshrined in Article 2(1) of the UN Charter, and with the inherent right of self-defense under Article 51. In fact, the 1975 Helsinki Final Act commits its signatories to respect each other’s sovereign freedom to choose alliances, which such a peace agreement would directly violate. 

The UN Charter or any other international law instrument does not permit one state to dictate the security posture or foreign alliances of another. Every sovereign state has the right to independently determine its own defense policy, including the right to form or join collective security arrangements. Imposing limitations on Ukraine’s military alliances or capabilities—particularly while Russia maintains ongoing military aggression—would amount to a legally impermissible form of external coercion.

Erasing Responsibility: Undermining the Right to Reparation

The proposal seeks a blanket "mutual renunciation of claims regarding damages caused during hostilities." This is incompatible with the principle of state responsibility under international law. The Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, adopted by the International Law Commission and widely accepted as customary international law, establish that states responsible for internationally wrongful acts must make full reparation for the injury caused.

A waiver of claims, if agreed under coercive conditions or in a context where the responsible state (Russia) has not acknowledged or ceased its wrongful conduct, and has caused hundreds of billions of dollars worth of damage, would be contrary to the fundamental legal obligation of reparation. Victim states cannot be legally compelled to relinquish such rights as a condition of peace.

Dictating Sovereignty: Breaching the Norm of Non-Intervention

The Russian proposal includes measures demanding constitutional, legislative, and political changes within Ukraine, including restrictions on political parties, mandated language laws, and imposed timelines for elections. Such stipulations are clear violations of the principle of non-intervention, a core tenet of international law as articulated in UN Charter Article 2(7), General Assembly Resolution 2131 (XX), and reaffirmed in Resolution 2625 (XXV).

States may not interfere, directly or indirectly, in matters that are essentially within the domestic jurisdiction of another state. This principle protects not only political and constitutional processes but also a state’s ability to determine its cultural, linguistic, and electoral frameworks.

Including the Lawful: Addressing Displacement Without Ending Its Cause

To its credit, one provision of the Russian proposal does align with international legal obligations: the call for resolving issues related to family reunification and displaced persons. Under international humanitarian and human rights law, including the 1951 Refugee Convention and the Fourth Geneva Convention, states are obliged to facilitate the reunification of families separated by conflict and to ensure the protection and voluntary, safe, and dignified return of displaced persons.

Efforts to address these issues are essential components of any genuine peace process and reflect a basic humanitarian consensus. Yet even this otherwise constructive provision cannot be effectively implemented in isolation, without addressing the causes of displacement: namely, Russia’s unlawful invasion and occupation of Ukrainian territory.

Conclusion: Resisting the Normalization of Force-Based Settlements

The June 2 Russian proposal is incompatible with international law at multiple levels. It seeks to legitimize unlawful territorial conquest, extinguish a sovereign state’s right to self-defense, restrict its international agency, interfere in domestic matters, and preempt any legal accountability for the aggressor’s actions. Accepting such terms would not constitute peace—it would represent a serious erosion of the international legal order that states have come to rely upon to protect their national security.

A just and lasting peace cannot be built on ultimatums, territorial conquest, or coerced silence. It must be anchored in international law, the UN Charter, accountability for atrocity crimes, and respect for sovereign equality. If normalized, this approach would legitimize territorial aggression, undermining global conflict resolution norms and encouraging future violations of sovereignty under the guise of peace proposals. Until these foundational legal principles are honored, negotiations based on documents like the Russian proposal will remain not only unacceptable but unlawful.

Can the EU Afford to Wait? Why Ukraine’s Membership Is a Strategic Imperative

Can the EU Afford to Wait? Why Ukraine’s Membership Is a Strategic Imperative

By: Ambassador (Ret.) Zorica Maric Djordjevic and Kateryna Kyrychenko

The European Union stands at a historic crossroads. As Ukraine defends its sovereignty against full-scale aggression, it is also fighting for the very ideals that the EU claims as its foundation: democracy, human dignity, rule of law, economic progress, and peace. In this context, Ukraine’s bid for EU membership is no longer just a diplomatic question—it is a test of Europe’s political courage and historical vision.

This post explores whether Ukraine’s EU accession can be accelerated and, more importantly, why it should be. We examine the legal mechanisms, political logic, historical precedents, and strategic rationale that together make the case not just for eventual membership—but for urgent, decisive action.

Can the EU Accelerate Ukraine’s Membership?

Legal Basis for Accession “Shortcuts”

The EU accession process is governed by Article 49 of the Treaty on European Union (TEU), which outlines the formal steps for a European state to apply for membership. This includes respect for EU values, adoption of EU law (the acquis communautaire), and the unanimous agreement of all 27 member states.

On paper, there is no fast-track or shortcut procedure. However, crucially, the treaties do not forbid flexibility within the process. That distinction matters. While the formality of the steps cannot be bypassed, the tempo and interpretation of progress remain politically malleable. Negotiations can be accelerated, chapters can be opened in parallel or bundled together, and transitional arrangements can be made to allow phased implementation after accession. The European Council, as the political engine of the Union, has the authority to redefine what constitutes "sufficient progress" to move forward.

In other words, the door is open—not for rule-breaking, but for rule-shaping.

Historical Comparisons: Lessons from Southern Europe

History shows us that political urgency often precedes technical perfection. When Greece joined the European Economic Community in 1981, followed by Spain and Portugal in 1986, their democracies were still fragile. 

But the Community made a bold choice. The priority was not perfect compliance, but strategic anchoring. Democracy needed to be secured through integration—not postponed until all reforms were complete. Political stability and regional alignment outweighed bureaucratic orthodoxy.

Like Southern Europe in the 1980s, Ukraine is a frontline democracy emerging from conflict and repression. But Ukraine is not only defending its own future—it is defending the European Union project itself. Its people have mobilized around the vision of a democratic, free, and united Europe—often more passionately than some current member states.

Ukraine’s accession is therefore not only a legal process, but a moral imperative and geopolitical strategy. It would affirm the EU’s founding values at a moment when they are under siege.

The Cyprus Exception: Political Flexibility in Action

Cyprus joined the EU in 2004 despite its unresolved territorial division. A special protocol allowed the Republic of Cyprus to enter while effectively suspending EU law in the northern part of the island. This example proves that the EU can—and has—made exceptions for the sake of political and strategic objectives.

The case of Cyprus shows that geopolitical imperatives can outweigh procedural rigidity. If a divided island could be accommodated, why not a united, fighting democracy that has already implemented more reforms under wartime conditions than many peace-time candidates?

What Would a “Fast-Track” for Ukraine Actually Look Like?

To accelerate Ukraine’s accession, several political conditions must align. First, a geostrategic consensus must emerge among major EU capitals—Paris, Berlin, Rome, and Warsaw—that Ukraine’s future lies firmly in Europe. Second, there must be a clear institutional roadmap that respects the legal process but adapts to Ukraine’s wartime constraints. Finally, any fast-track move must be embedded within a broader reform of the EU itself, particularly around decision-making to avoid institutional paralysis once Ukraine joins.

Accelerating Ukraine’s membership is politically possible. It depends not on legal innovation, but on political will.

The Agriculture Question: A Test of Policy and Priorities

One of the most frequently cited challenges in Ukraine’s accession process is its agricultural sector. Ukraine is one of the world’s agricultural giants—often called the “breadbasket of Europe.” It boasts some of the planet’s most fertile land, and even during wartime disruption, it remains a major global exporter of wheat, sunflower oil, corn, and barley.

This strength, however, raises policy dilemmas for the EU. Integrating Ukraine into the Common Agricultural Policy (CAP)—which currently consumes nearly a third of the EU budget—would require either a substantial increase in the EU’s financial envelope or a deep reform of how CAP funds are distributed. Some member states fear that Ukraine’s vast and competitive agricultural sector would distort internal markets and trigger social and political backlash, especially in countries where farmers already feel economically marginalized. Concerns also extend to compliance with EU sanitary and phytosanitary (SPS) regulations and the Green Deal’s environmental criteria, which could pose adaptation challenges for Ukrainian producers in the short term.

But framing Ukraine’s agriculture as a “problem” misunderstands the opportunity. The EU has long been undergoing conversations about reforming CAP to make it more sustainable, greener, and innovation-driven. Ukraine could be the catalyst for this transformation. Its accession offers a chance to modernize outdated subsidy structures, prioritize food security and climate resilience, and create a common agricultural space that leverages Ukraine’s capacity while supporting fair transition measures for existing member states. A flexible, staged approach to integration—drawing on models such as Spain’s phased accession—could ensure mutual gains without overwhelming EU systems.

Transitional arrangements—such as phased CAP entry, special safeguard clauses, and targeted investment in Ukrainian rural infrastructure—are feasible. They were used during the 2004 enlargement and can be adapted for Ukraine. Rather than derail accession, agriculture could be the sector where vision and pragmatism converge. Framing these transitional measures as part of Ukraine’s broader post-war recovery agenda could help depoliticize negotiations while attracting consensus among member states.

In the long term, integrating Ukraine’s agriculture into the EU market is not a burden—it’s a strategic asset. At a time of rising global food insecurity, climate disruption, and competition with authoritarian grain-exporting regimes, Ukraine’s agricultural strength reinforces the EU’s geopolitical autonomy and global relevance.

The EU as a Peace Project: Returning to Foundational Values

The EU was never merely a technocratic trade bloc. It was a peace project. It was created from the ruins of war to make future conflicts not only unthinkable, but impossible. The Schuman Declaration of 1950 envisioned integration not as a goal in itself, but as a means to ensure lasting peace.

Today, Ukraine represents a 21st-century peace challenge. A sovereign democracy under assault, it is precisely the kind of state the EU was built to protect and integrate. If the EU’s original purpose was to ensure peace through unity, then integrating Ukraine is not a deviation—it is a return to first principles.

The war in Ukraine has already reshaped the EU security environment. In response to the Russian aggression the EU has approved several new measures, including the Strategic Compass, the utilization of the enhanced European Peace Facility for military support to Ukraine, the launch of the EU-led Military Assistance Mission to train Ukrainian soldiers, the revitalization of the European Defense Technological and Industrial Base to promote joint procurement, and the imposition of sanctions. Between 2021 and 2024, EU member states increased defence spending by 30 per cent, reaching a record €326 billion.

Peace is not a passive condition. It requires political action and transformative effort in moments of crisis.. Just as the EU extended its hand to post-authoritarian Southern Europe, and later to post-Soviet Central Europe, and bolstered its security infrastructure in response to the Russian aggression in 2022, it must now respond to Ukraine’s call for long-term commitment—not just with promises, but with a bold political decision to shape the future of the new European order.

Final Thought: A Moment of Decision

In 2004, the EU acted boldly, welcoming ten new members because the time was right—and because Europe was willing. In 2025, Ukraine is proving daily that it is ready. What it needs is for Europe to be willing again.

Europe has made political decisions before—to bring in Greece, Spain, and Portugal to defend democracy. Ukraine does not seek vague declarations. It seeks the kind of decisive political act that brought Poland and the Baltics into the EU: one rooted in shared sacrifice, performance under pressure, and strategic necessity.

This is not about breaking the EU’s rules. It is about fulfilling its purpose.

If Ukraine’s courage under fire is not enough to merit integration, then what remains of the EU’s promise?

Now is the time for moral clarity and geopolitical foresight—to show that the EU is not just a market of convenience, but a union of values. To delay would not be neutral—it would be a failure of Robert Shuman’s vision that “world peace cannot be safeguarded without the making of creative efforts proportionate to the dangers which threaten it.”

Ukraine’s membership would not stretch the Union. It would strengthen it.

Not someday. But now.

Targeting the Innocent: Russia’s Continued Attacks on Ukrainian Civilians

Targeting the Innocent: Russia’s Continued Attacks on Ukrainian Civilians

By: Dr. Gregory P. Noone and Kateryna Kyrychenko, PILPG, and Todd Scott, Gargi Talukder, Lindsay Rindskopf, Bailey Higgs, Weixin Yang, and Rene Kathawala, Orrick, Herrington & Sutcliffe LLP

Introduction

Three years after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, Russia continues to deliberately target civilians, causing widespread devastation and uncertainty through repeated attacks and indiscriminate bombings.  Various human rights agencies, as well as the United Nations, have reported these targeted attacks, tracking the continually rising death toll in Ukraine’s civilian population.  Early 2025 brought reports of short-range drone attacks; a weapon that should in theory allow more precision and avoid civilian casualties, but has in practice put “civilians at grave risk.”  This blog post discusses the consistent findings of Russia’s “indiscriminate and disproportionate” attacks on civilians in Ukraine, and the international humanitarian law that prohibits them. 

Russia’s “Indiscriminate and Disproportionate Attacks” on Civilians in Ukraine

International human rights agencies and news organizations have widely reported Russia’s “indiscriminate and disproportionate attacks” in Ukraine.  In a March 2023 report, the UN Independent International Commission of Inquiry on Ukraine (the “Commission”) presented evidence that, in addition to a variety of other attacks on civilians, “Russian armed forces have carried out attacks with explosive weapons in populated areas with an apparent disregard for civilian harm and suffering.”  The Commission found that Russian forces used weapons, including unguided bombs, long-range anti-ship missiles, cluster munitions, and multiple launch rocket systems, against both military and civilian targets “without distinction.”  

The year following Russia’s full-scale invasion spurred consistent reports of these “indiscriminate” attacks committed with “disregard” to the targets (the list below is non-exhaustive and covers attacks only from the first two years of the invasion; it continues to grow as further incidents are documented daily):

• 28 February-30 April 2022: Twenty-eight “indiscriminate strikes” in Kharkiv.

• 3 March 2022: Attacks in residential areas of Chernihiv, killing at least 20 people and injuring others.

• 9 March 2022: Attack on Mariupol Primary and Sanitation Aid Center No. 3.

• 9 March 2022: Attack on apartment building in Izium, killing at least 44 people.

• 16 March 2022: Attack on Mariupol’s Drama Theater which killed as many as 600 civilians.

• 8 April 2022: Attack on Kramatorsk train station, killing 59 people and injuring 92.

• 27 June 2022: Attack on Kremenchuk shopping mall, killing 21 and injuring dozens of people.

• 1 July 2022: Attack on residential areas near Odessa, killing at least 21 people.

• 9 July 2022: Attack on an apartment building in Chasiv Yar, killing at least 15 people.

• 14 January 2023: Attack on an apartment building in Dnipro, killing 45 people, including six children.

• 28 April 2023: Attack on the apartment block, killing at least 21 people, including three children.

• October 2023: Attack on café and store in Hroza, killing at least 51 people.

• December 2023: Aerial attack killing at least 30 civilians and injuring at least 160.

These attacks are still occuring three years later, and the death toll continues to rise as Russia increases its aerial attacks against civilians.  In 2024, the United Nations Human Rights Office of the High Commissioner (“OHCHR”) issued a report on the human rights situation in Ukraine, identifying “[i]ncreased use of air-dropped bombs with a larger range” as a “significant reason for the rise in civilian casualties” in 2024.  The report found that 96% of civilian casualties in 2024 “were caused by the use of explosive weapons with wide area effects in populated areas.”  

Hundreds of civilians have already been killed or injured in Ukraine during the first months of 2025, including through the use of short-range drones and missile and munitions attacks targeting residential buildings, a boarding school, and medical facilities.  In early 2025, it was not the use of unpredictable weapons, like unguided bombs and cluster munitions, that resulted in the most casualties; it was the use of short-range drones equipped with cameras, which should “allow[] an operator to assess with a higher degree of certainty whether a potential target is a military objective or a civilian person or object.”  While the use of short-range drones should, in theory, decrease the risk of civilian casualties, the head of the UN Human Rights Monitoring Mission in Ukraine (HRMMU) reported data “show[ing] a clear and disturbing pattern of short-range drones being used in ways that put civilians at grave risk.”  There is evidence suggesting that Russia may be purposely using drones to target civilians in order to terrorize them, and potentially use civilians for target practice in order to perfect the drone operators’ skills.  Civilian casualties were higher in January and February 2025 than in the same months last year. 

International Humanitarian Law Aims to Protect Civilians from Attack

International Humanitarian Law (IHL - also referred to as the Law of Armed Conflict or LOAC) prohibits attacks (like bombardments or aerial strikes) on civilians and buildings likely to house civilians during armed conflicts.

Geneva Conventions and their Additional Protocols: The Geneva Conventions are a series of treaties that establish international legal standards for belligerent conduct during armed conflict, to which Russia has been a party since 1949.  They protect both people who do not participate in the fighting (such as civilians or medics/aid workers) and those who can no longer fight (such as captured or wounded troops).  In particular, the Fourth Geneva Convention protects civilians in times of war, including those in occupied territories, from murder, torture, or brutality (Articles 13 and 32), and from indiscriminate destruction of property (Articles 33 and 34). 

Additional Protocol I, while not ratified by Russia, provides further illustration of the kind of protection that international law affords to civilians.  Specifically, it expands protections for the victims of international armed conflicts, including prohibiting the use of weapons that “cause superfluous injury or unnecessary suffering” (Article 35); the destruction of foods, water, and other materials needed for survival (Article 54); and indiscriminate attacks on civilian populations (Article 51(4)).  “Indiscriminate attacks” are defined to include “those which are not directed at a specific military objective” and “those which employ a method or means of combat which cannot be directed at a specific military objective” (Article 51(4)(a)-(b)).  These protections include the IHL fundamental principle of proportionality which states “an attack which may be expected to cause incidental loss of civilian life, injury to civilians, damage to civilian objects, or a combination thereof, which would be excessive in relation to the concrete and direct military advantage anticipated” (Article 51(5)(b)).

Additional Protocol I further provides that a party conducting military operations should take “constant care…to spare the civilian population, civilians and civilian objects,” including by “refrain[ing] from deciding to launch any attack which may be expected to cause incidental loss of civilian life, injury to civilians, damage to civilian objects, or a combination thereof…” (Article 57).

Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (ICC): The Rome Statute, which established the ICC, defines war crimes, including intentionally directing attacks against civilian populations or civilian objects, as prosecutable offenses.  

The ICC has jurisdiction over war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide.  “War crimes” are defined in Article 8 to include: (1) “[i]ntentionally directing attacks against the civilian population”; (2) “[i]ntentionally directing attacks against civilian objects”; (3) “[i]ntentionally launching an attack in the knowledge that such attack will cause incidental loss of life or injury to civilians or damage to civilian objects”; (4) “[a]ttacking or bombarding, by whatever means, towns, villages, dwellings or buildings which are undefended and which are not military objectives”; and (5) “[e]mploying weapons, projectiles and material and methods of warfare which are of a nature to cause superfluous injury or unnecessary suffering”.  Article 7 of the Rome Statute defines “crime[s] against humanity,” including murder, “when committed as part of a widespread or systematic attack directed against any civilian population, with knowledge of the attack.”  Article 6 defines “genocide” as “acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national ethnical, racial or religious group.”

Russia signed the Rome Statute in 2000 but did not ratify it, and it withdrew from the Rome Statute altogether in 2016.  However, war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide are all part of customary international law and considered jus cogens, meaning that they are peremptory norms that cannot be violated regardless of whether or not a state is a party to a particular treaty.

Hague Conventions: These conventions, particularly the Hague Convention IV of 1907, set out the laws and customs of war, including the protection of civilian populations and property during conflicts.  The Hague Convention states that “the right of belligerents to adopt means of injuring the enemy is not unlimited” (Article 22) and explicitly prohibits “employ[ing] arms, projectiles, or material calculated to cause unnecessary suffering” (Article 23).  The Hague Convention also prohibits attacks on certain areas likely to house civilians (Article 25, prohibiting attack on towns, villages, and dwellings) and requires taking “all necessary steps” “to spare, as far as possible, buildings dedicated to religion, art, science, or charitable purposes, historic monuments, hospitals, and places where the sick and wounded are collected, provided they are not being used at the time for military purposes” (Article 27).

Russia’s Attacks on Civilians Violate International Humanitarian Law

Russia’s attacks on civilians violate international humanitarian law protections for civilians in times of war.  For example, Russia has engaged in repeated “indiscriminate attacks” against civilians in violation of the Geneva Convention.  The armed conflict in Ukraine falls under Article 2 of the Geneva Convention, which prohibits “indiscriminate attacks” against civilians.  The Independent International Commission of Inquiry on Ukraine concluded in its March 2023 report that “a majority” of Russia’s attacks, including the use of weapons like unguided bombs used against civilians, were indiscriminate.  The Commission made similar conclusions in its March 2024 report, determining that multiple attacks, including a March 13, 2022, attack on a hospital and the March 9, 2022, air attack on a maternity hospital, were indiscriminate attacks.  The Commission has concluded that Russia’s “indiscriminate and disproportionate attacks” against civilians are violations of international humanitarian law.  

Russia has also failed to take the necessary precautions under Additional Protocol I, Article 57(2) to prevent attacks on civilians.  The Commission determined that “Russian armed forces failed to take feasible precautions to verify whether civilians were present” in multiple attacks, including those in residential areas.  

Russia has repeatedly attacked hospitals, schools, and churches, which are all locations that receive special protections under international humanitarian law.  See, e.g. Article 27 of the Hague Convention.

Russia has committed war crimes, crimes against humanity and potentially genocide.   While Russia is not a party to the Rome Statute, other state parties have referred the situation in Ukraine to the ICC, and in March 2022, the ICC Prosecutor announced an open investigation into “any past or present allegations of war crimes, crimes against humanity or genocide committed on any part of the territory of Ukraine by any person from 21 November 2013 onwards.”  In its March 2024 report, the Commission determined that “[c]ertain attacks amounted to the war crime of excessive incidental death, injury or damages.”  The Commission was unable to determine whether the bombardment of Mariupol constituted a crime against humanity under Article 7(1) of the Rome Statute, but recommended further investigation. 

Conclusion

Since its February 2022 full-scale invasion of Ukraine, there is incontrovertible evidence that Russia has committed numerous war crimes by, among other crimes, repeatedly and “indiscriminately” attacking civilians, failing to take sufficient precautions to prevent casualties in violation of international humanitarian law.  As Russia adopts new methods of attack, such as the use of short-range drones — which, in theory, should allow for greater precision in distinguishing military from civilian objects — concerns remain about their actual use and impact on civilians. This underscores the ongoing need for vigilant monitoring, thorough investigation, and robust accountability mechanisms. 

# Russian Aggression Has Consequences: The Erosion of the Ottawa Convention and Global Security

# Russian Aggression Has Consequences: The Erosion of the Ottawa Convention and Global Security

By: Dr. Gregory P. Noone, Kateryna Kyrychenko, and Sindija Beta

Introduction

With Russia’s aggressive actions in Ukraine, the entire international security and legal infrastructure is being disrupted forcing nations to rethink long-standing disarmament commitments. Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia have announced their intention to withdraw from the Ottawa Convention on the Prohibition of Anti-Personnel Mines. In fact, the Latvian Parliament has already approved the law providing for the state’s withdrawal. 

The Ottawa Convention, a landmark treaty adopted in the 1990s, is an international arms control agreement banning antipersonnel landmines. These landmines are weapons that are usually hidden in the ground and are triggered by weight, such as a person stepping on it. Antipersonnel landmines leave a lasting legacy of suffering even after the armed conflict is over as civilians – frequently children – can fall victim to an abandoned unexploded landmine even generations later. Due to their indiscriminate nature, impacting combatants and civilians alike, their prohibition has been viewed as a major success of international humanitarian law. 

The signing of the Ottawa Convention was also a major success for civil society as civil society was among those spearheading its development. Uniquely, the Convention stands out as one of the few international treaties primarily driven by non-state actors, demonstrating the powerful role civil society can play in shaping global disarmament norms. The first decades after its signing witnessed a significant reduction in the production and use of antipersonnel landmines. 

Despite its widespread adoption, security concerns prevented some nations from being able to abandon their use of landmines. The U.S. notably refrained from joining due to its strategic concerns in the Korean Peninsula, where landmines are seen as a deterrent against North Korean aggression.

Nearly 30 years later, the treaty, which some even considered “the most successful treaty in the field of conventional disarmament”, is now being loudly questioned. With Russia’s escalating hostility toward its neighbors, the Baltic states and Poland find themselves in a security environment eerily reminiscent of the Korean Peninsula leading these nations to reevaluate their commitments.

Russian Aggression and Its Consequences

Russia’s actions in Ukraine have made it clear to neighboring countries that they cannot rely solely on international agreements for protection. The war has demonstrated Russia’s willingness to ignore international norms, violate borders, and use military force to achieve its objectives. Poland and the Baltic states, which share borders or close proximity with Russia, have been increasingly alarmed by its expansionist behavior and military provocations.

For these countries, the invasion of Ukraine has reinforced the importance of national defense and territorial security. The prospect of a Russian incursion, hybrid warfare tactics, and potential border destabilization have led them to reassess their defense strategies. While the Ottawa Convention sought to limit the use of landmines for humanitarian reasons, Poland and the Baltic states now view such measures as potential vulnerabilities in their border security. 

Landmines, though controversial, serve as a deterrent in strategic border areas, much as they do in the Korean Demilitarized Zone. The decision also signals a broader shift in European security policy, where deterrence is taking precedence over disarmament.

Arms Control Trends

This step back from the long-standing ban on antipersonnel landmines is just one piece in the broader puzzle of the erosion of arms control agreements. 

Since 2022 and Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Russia and all NATO allies have also withdrawn from or suspended their operations under the Conventional Armed Forces in Europe (CFE) Treaty, which was once seen as a cornerstone of European security. The CFE Treaty was signed in 1990 and aimed to prevent an arms race in Europe and ensure that NATO and Russia’s conventional weapons deployments were on par. This effectively signifies a new era in how Europe conceptualizes its security infrastructure.  

Likewise, in 2019, both Russia and the US withdrew from the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty effectively leading to its collapse. The INF Treaty, once a pillar of nuclear stability in Europe, collapsed due to Russian violations and subsequent U.S. withdrawal.

In light of these developments, the New Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (New START) also faces an uncertain future. New START expires in 2026 and it is unclear how the current geopolitical circumstances will impact the feasibility of the Treaty’s renegotiation. 

The weakening of these agreements reflects a broader trend: nations are prioritizing their immediate security needs over long-term disarmament commitments. Now, with the potential beginning of the unraveling of the Ottawa Convention, another cornerstone of international security is under threat.

Conclusion

Russia’s war in Ukraine has proven that international agreements alone cannot guarantee peace. The possible withdrawal of Poland and the Baltic states from the Ottawa Convention is a direct response to this reality. While the humanitarian consequences of landmines are well-documented, the strategic necessity of deterrence cannot be ignored in the face of existential threats.

This move is just one development in a broader trend in arms control, where deterrence is regaining primacy over disarmament. As Russia continues to challenge the international order, more nations may follow suit, prioritizing military preparedness over treaty obligations.