Justice without borders? By Shanna Shepard

There is a bitter irony in celebrating World Day for International Justice during an era when one of the world’s most powerful governments has repeatedly treated international rules as optional, negotiable, or simply inconvenient. International justice was created on the belief that humanity could move beyond the old tradition of power deciding everything, beyond the idea that the strongest nations could write the rules while everyone else merely followed them. Yet in Donald Trump’s political universe, that principle has often appeared less like a foundation of global order and more like an obstacle standing in the way of national ambition.

The Trump administration’s approach to international law reflected a broader philosophy: sovereignty above cooperation, national interest above shared responsibility, and political loyalty above institutional restraint. Supporters described this as putting America first. Critics saw something far more dangerous, a rejection of the very framework designed to prevent the return of a world where justice depends on the size of a country’s military, economy, or political influence.

International justice is not a perfect system. It is slow, complicated, and frequently frustrating. Courts and international organisations have made mistakes, moved cautiously, and sometimes failed to deliver accountability when it was desperately needed. But imperfections do not erase the necessity of the idea itself. The alternative is a world where war crimes, human rights abuses, and violations of treaties become matters of political convenience rather than legal responsibility.

The hostility shown by Trump and members of his administration towards certain international institutions represented a profound clash of philosophies. Where international law seeks collective standards, the Trump worldview often emphasised individual national power. Where global justice demands cooperation between states, the administration frequently viewed international bodies with suspicion, portraying them as bureaucracies interfering with American freedom of action.

This tension was particularly visible in attitudes towards international courts and agreements. The message sent was unsettling: rules created by the global community could be accepted when they served national interests and dismissed when they did not. But justice cannot function like a restaurant menu where governments choose only the items they enjoy.

The greatest danger is not merely political disagreement with international institutions. Democracies have every right to debate, criticise, and reform global systems. The deeper problem emerges when powerful nations encourage the belief that law is something for weaker countries while great powers operate by their own standards. History has shown repeatedly that selective respect for justice eventually damages everyone, including those who believe they are protected by their own strength.

International justice was born from some of humanity’s darkest chapters. The aftermath of world wars, genocide, and mass atrocities produced a determination that certain crimes should never again be hidden behind national borders or political excuses. The principle was simple but revolutionary: individuals and governments could be held accountable because humanity itself had an interest in justice.

In the Trump era, that principle faced an uncomfortable test. The question was never whether America had flaws, because every nation does. The question was whether the world’s democracies would continue defending a system where even powerful nations were expected to respect common rules.

World Day for International Justice should therefore not be merely a celebration. It should be a reminder. Justice is not maintained by declarations and ceremonies; it survives because societies defend it when doing so becomes politically inconvenient. International law is not a weapon against nations. It is a shield against the return of a world where the powerful decide what is right and the vulnerable are left hoping for mercy.

In an age of rising nationalism and declining trust, international justice may seem fragile. But fragility does not mean failure. It means the responsibility to protect it becomes even greater. The true measure of a nation’s greatness is not whether it can escape the rules, it is whether it has the courage to respect them.