At the Munich Security Conference 2026, beneath glittering chandeliers and tight security, diplomacy moved to script — until one question broke it. Dutch parliamentarian Kati Piri asked what many had whispered, but few had dared to say aloud: where is the accountability for Israel’s actions in Gaza? The room did not answer. The question lingered.

Gaza now lies in ruins. More than 72,000 Palestinians have been killed since the war began, the majority civilians, and well over half the population has been displaced. Entire neighbourhoods have been reduced to grey dust. Hospitals, universities, water systems and bakeries have been obliterated. The UN Commission of Inquiry concluded in September 2025 that Israel had committed acts amounting to genocide, citing evidence of mass killing, forced displacement and statements of intent by senior officials.

The International Court of Justice has ordered provisional measures to prevent further acts under the Genocide Convention. The International Criminal Court has issued arrest warrants for Israel’s prime minister and defence minister for alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity.

Continuing to arm or diplomatically shield a state credibly accused of genocide carries legal and reputational consequences. For states that derive legitimacy from the language of rules and norms, selective application corrodes credibility and accelerates the erosion of global trust.

Continuing to arm or diplomatically shield a state credibly accused of genocide carries legal and reputational consequences. For states that derive legitimacy from the language of rules and norms, selective application corrodes credibility and accelerates the erosion of global trust.

And yet in Munich, much of the conversation drifted towards ‘what comes next’. Reconstruction. Governance models. A proposed ‘Board of Peace’. The future was dissected while the present remained morally unresolved.

There is a haunting familiarity to this sequence. Devastation. Diplomatic fatigue. A pivot to rebuilding before reckoning. History offers grim lessons about what happens when accountability is postponed in the name of stability. Bosnia’s Srebrenica massacre was initially met with equivocation; only sustained pressure led to war crimes trials. In Rwanda, international hesitation cost 800,000 lives before justice mechanisms were mobilised. Post-war reconstruction without truth risks entrenching grievance rather than resolving it.

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The Munich Security Conference has long styled itself as a guardian of the ‘rules-based international order’. This year, several European leaders conceded that the order is fraying. Germany’s chancellor warned that it ‘no longer exists’ in the form once imagined. If that is so, Gaza is not peripheral to the crisis; it is central.

International law is not an accessory to be worn when convenient. The Genocide Convention imposes obligations not only on perpetrators but on all signatories to prevent and punish. The ICJ’s provisional measures explicitly reminded third states of their duties. Continuing to arm or diplomatically shield a state credibly accused of genocide carries legal and reputational consequences. For states that derive legitimacy from the language of rules and norms, selective application corrodes credibility and accelerates the erosion of global trust.

The implications extend beyond the Middle East. A pattern is emerging across Western democracies: as impunity abroad deepens, space for dissent at home contracts.

In the United Kingdom, more than 2,000 pro-Palestinian protesters have reportedly been arrested under counterterrorism or public order laws since mid-2025. Germany has pursued hundreds of investigations related to pro-Palestine slogans. In the United States, university campuses have faced funding threats and visa revocations linked to Gaza protests. UN human rights experts have warned of a ‘global crisis’ in freedom of expression tied to the conflict.

The right to determine Gaza’s future must rest, fundamentally, with Palestinians. That includes those in Gaza, the West Bank and the diaspora. Reconstruction is not merely about concrete and steel; it is about political dignity.

The right to determine Gaza’s future must rest, fundamentally, with Palestinians. That includes those in Gaza, the West Bank and the diaspora. Reconstruction is not merely about concrete and steel; it is about political dignity.

This is not incidental. Research on democratic backsliding shows that when governments invoke security to justify exceptional measures, those measures rarely remain confined to the original threat. A politics of siege migrates inward. Laws designed to combat violent extremism are stretched to police speech. Definitions of antisemitism, essential in confronting genuine hatred, are sometimes expanded to encompass legitimate criticism of Israeli policy. The result is a chilling effect that impoverishes democratic debate.

There is a profound contradiction here. Democracies do not defend their values by silencing marginalised voices, particularly when those voices speak against mass civilian suffering. Nor do they strengthen alliances by appearing indifferent to credible allegations of atrocity.

Double standards are not merely rhetorical liabilities; they are strategic ones. Autocratic powers are already exploiting Gaza to accuse the West of hypocrisy. Each perceived inconsistency becomes a talking point in Beijing and Moscow, a recruitment tool for extremists, a seed of cynicism among young citizens from Jakarta to Johannesburg.

Gaza’s future cannot be designed as a technocratic exercise divorced from justice. Proposals circulating in policy circles envisage international boards, transitional authorities and security guarantees. Some are earnest attempts to prevent renewed violence. Yet any plan that marginalises Palestinian agency or bypasses accountability risks resembling managed containment rather than self-determination.

The right to determine Gaza’s future must rest, fundamentally, with Palestinians. That includes those in Gaza, the West Bank and the diaspora. Reconstruction is not merely about concrete and steel; it is about political dignity. International support should enable inclusive Palestinian governance processes, not substitute for them. The Oslo era’s lesson was stark: externally brokered arrangements that entrench asymmetries breed disillusionment.

For middle powers and major powers alike, from Brasília to Berlin, from Pretoria to Jakarta, the path forward demands a rare fusion of moral courage and diplomatic intelligence. This is not a regional test; it is a global reckoning. Supporting international legal processes — whether at the International Court of Justice or the International Criminal Court — does not require severing dialogue or abandoning strategic relationships. It requires something far more fundamental: consistency.

Calling for compliance with ICJ orders is not an act of hostility toward Israel or any state; it is an affirmation that treaties signed in the ashes of past genocides still carry meaning. Insisting on the protection of Palestinian civilians is not ideological grandstanding; it is the bare minimum demanded by international humanitarian law and by human conscience.

When nations choose to defend legal principles even when politically inconvenient, they reinforce the fragile architecture that protects all peoples, including their own. When they equivocate, the scaffolding of global order weakens. The credibility of the international system depends not on selective outrage but on universal application.

Munich’s question still hangs in the air: where is accountability? The answer will shape not only Gaza’s skyline but the integrity of the global system itself.

Munich’s question still hangs in the air: where is accountability? The answer will shape not only Gaza’s skyline but the integrity of the global system itself.

A world in which accountability bends to alliances is a world edging toward moral bankruptcy. A world that upholds the law, even amid grief and rage, plants the seeds of a more durable peace — not only for Gaza and Palestine, but for every society that relies on the promise that power will not stand above principle.

A better future for Gaza and Palestine will not be carved out of careful words or diplomatic hesitation.

It will be forged through courage — the courage to pursue real accountability through credible international mechanisms, embraced rather than obstructed. It will depend on safeguarding democratic space across the world, so that solidarity with civilians under fire is never treated as a crime but recognised as a moral impulse. And it will require reconstruction rooted in Palestinian self-determination, strengthened by genuine regional economic integration and supported in good faith by Arab states and the wider international community.

Only through these intertwined commitments can hope rise from the rubble with dignity intact. The alternative is bleak. A Gaza rebuilt without justice may become a monument to selective empathy.

Democracies that silence their own citizens in defence of geopolitical convenience risk hollowing out their moral core. And an international order that tolerates impunity for some while prosecuting others invites fragmentation. Munich’s question still hangs in the air: where is accountability? The answer will shape not only Gaza’s skyline but the integrity of the global system itself.

In the quiet after the conference lights dim, that question remains the most urgent security issue of all.

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