In recent days, as debates over the legality of armed attacks by US–Israel-led strikes on Iranian leadership have unfolded, I have found myself reading large amounts of Western legal analysis on the law of armed conflict. What I increasingly experience while doing so is not clarity but discomfort. The doctrinal language is precise, the citations extensive, and the reasoning carefully structured. Yet the framing of the questions themselves often feels strangely narrow.

The scholars and writers first take a moral high ground by asserting that the attack by the US and Israel on Iran is illegal (which genuinely it is, and this is very basic and foundational), and then go on to scrutinise every act committed by Iran in its defence. Meaning thereby, the scrutiny is not how US–Israel forces are violating the fundamentals of international law, and particularly international humanitarian law, but rather how Iran is violating the set norms and principles.

In these discussions, there was an inquiry into whether particular individuals, military commanders, intelligence officials, or even political leaders in Iran were lawful targets under the law of armed conflict. The legality of the broader use of force fades into the background. Even when scholars acknowledge that the initial resort to force may violate Article 2(4) of the UN Charter, the analytical focus is on determining whether subsequent strikes remain lawful under international humanitarian law.

However, the question is doctrinally correct in a technical sense. International law separates jus ad bellum, the law governing the legality of resorting to force, from jus in bello, the rules governing conduct during armed conflict. A state may therefore wage an unlawful war while still complying with the rules of targeting, proportionality, and distinction.

Yet when legal analysis focuses overwhelmingly on the latter, it risks creating a curious inversion: the legality of killing becomes the central problem, while the legality of the war itself becomes almost peripheral. This somehow gives acknowledgement to the offensive forces that, even though they waged an illegal war, they are now abiding by the laws of war. At least.

Coming back to the question of whether Iranian leaders, particularly the Supreme Leader and senior military figures, could lawfully be targeted during the hostilities between Iran, Israel, and the United States. Under international humanitarian law, individuals may be targeted if they are either combatants, members of the armed forces (however, the requirements for membership in armed forces are not given in international law), or civilians directly participating in hostilities.

The principle of distinction, codified in Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions and widely accepted as customary law, requires attacks to be directed only at military objectives.

The normalisation of decapitation strategies thus creates a precedent that no state can entirely control

The normalisation of decapitation strategies thus creates a precedent that no state can entirely control

Within this framework, Western analyses often proceed in two steps. First, they identify whether certain Iranian leaders could be considered members of the armed forces, for example, commanders within the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. In such cases, the conclusion is straightforward: combatants are lawful targets at any time. Second, where individuals are formally civilians, scholars ask whether their actions constitute direct participation in hostilities. If a civilian leader approves military operations, selects targets, or directs operational decisions, some scholars argue that this conduct may satisfy the criteria developed by the International Committee of the Red Cross for direct participation.

The result of this reasoning is often that the legality of leadership targeting becomes a matter of doctrinal classification. A political figure is examined not as a head of state or a symbol of sovereignty, but as a potential “military objective”. The legal question becomes whether their function or conduct places them within the targeting rules.

Yet this approach raises deeper concerns.

First, the concept of direct participation in hostilities was developed primarily to address civilians who temporarily engage in combat-like activities, such as fighters, scouts, or individuals transporting weapons to the battlefield. Extending this doctrine to political leaders who make strategic or operational decisions stretches the concept considerably. Decisions made at the strategic level of government are often temporally and causally distant from specific battlefield harm. Treating such conduct as direct participation risks collapsing the distinction between civilian authority and military participation.

Second, the expansion of leadership targeting carries troubling systemic implications. If a head of state or senior political leader can be targeted because they influence military operations, the logic is inherently reciprocal. The same reasoning could be invoked against presidents, prime ministers, and defence ministers elsewhere. In theory, the operational decisions taken daily by leaders in Washington, London, Paris, or Tel Aviv could equally be characterised as participation in hostilities. The normalisation of decapitation strategies thus creates a precedent that no state can entirely control.

Third, the narrow focus on targetability may obscure other critical legal questions. The law of armed conflict not only regulates who may be targeted; it also imposes obligations of proportionality, precautions in attack, and the protection of civilians. Moreover, the legality of the broader military campaign under the UN Charter remains fundamental. When analysis devotes extensive attention to the doctrinal status of particular individuals while treating the legality of the war itself as secondary, the legal narrative can become skewed.

None of this means that leadership targeting is automatically unlawful under international law. The law of armed conflict does permit attacks against combatants and civilians who directly participate in hostilities. In some cases, senior military officials or commanders may clearly fall within these categories. The problem lies not in recognising these rules but in how they are applied and framed.

However, it can be argued that military personnel are targeted in war based on decisions taken by civilian leaders, but that argument remains outside the realm of international humanitarian law.

For scholars in the Global South, this moment should prompt a broader reflection. International law has always been shaped by interpretation and practice. When legal debates about contemporary conflicts are dominated by a narrow set of academic voices and institutional perspectives, the resulting discourse can inadvertently reproduce existing geopolitical hierarchies. Expanding participation in these debates is therefore not merely an academic exercise; it is part of the ongoing process through which international law develops.

The issue is not to reject doctrinal analysis or to dismiss established legal principles. Rather, it is to ask different questions alongside the familiar ones. How should the law of armed conflict address leadership targeting in a world where technological precision makes such strikes increasingly feasible? What limits should exist on extending the concept of direct participation to political decision-makers? And how should legal analysis ensure that the legality of the resort to force is not overshadowed by debates over the technical legality of individual strikes?

International law does not belong to any one region or scholarly tradition. Its interpretation, however, is shaped by those who participate in its debates. If the current moment has produced discomfort for many readers of contemporary legal analysis, it may also provide an opportunity, particularly for scholars from the Global South, to engage more actively in shaping how the law of armed conflict is understood and applied.

© The Friday Times