It was only during the recent debates over the American strike on Iran that I was struck by how much intellectual damage is done by the constant invocation of “international law” as though it were some binding sovereign authority. It has never functioned that way, and it never can.
Even if the strongest states were to declare—solemnly and sincerely—that they would submit to rules even when it was disadvantageous, such behavior would quickly erode their power. They would be replaced by actors more willing to act with cold, unsentimental rationality. In the realm of high politics, survival favors those prepared to use power, not those eager to restrain themselves in the name of abstractions.
So why proclaim international law at all?
First, because it signals how the strongest intend to exercise their power. It clarifies expectations. It tells other states what kinds of behavior will trigger a response and what kinds will not. That clarity can reduce open conflict—not because law rules the world, but because power announces its preferred operating procedures.
Second, it allows the hegemon to define the rules it will enforce in disputes among its smaller satellites. “International law” becomes, in practice, the framework through which the dominant power manages its sphere of influence.
This does not mean that other states are powerless. It does mean that their room for maneuver narrows. Smaller and weaker states, even if they coordinate, cannot defeat a hegemon militarily. But they can impose costs—economic, political, reputational—high enough to deter certain actions. That is the difference between Greenland and the Iranian regime, which has managed to alienate nearly every country within a thousand-kilometer radius.
And what, then, is so harmful about the endless rhetoric of the “rule of law” in international affairs? It creates unrealistic expectations. Worse, it breeds frustration when reality refuses to conform. Citizens are encouraged to believe that global politics operates like a constitutional order, and when it does not, they feel betrayed. In the worst cases, entire subcultures arise around that frustration, complete with media ecosystems devoted to nursing grievance.
We have also received a timely lesson in the true value of international treaties. Recall the fanfare surrounding the agreement between Saudi Arabia and Iran. It is highly likely that the Saudis were already contemplating Iran’s strategic weakening—if not its destruction—at the very moment the ink was drying. Will this make them less “trustworthy” in the eyes of other states? Hardly.
The truth is less romantic and more durable: every treaty has the same value. As the Czech political scientist Oskar Krejčí once observed, international agreements remain in force only so long as they are advantageous to the parties involved. When they cease to be advantageous, they effectively dissolve.