At the end of May 2026, the National Assembly voted 133 to 37 to withdraw Hungary’s intention to withdraw from the International Criminal Court (ICC). This decision brought to a close a brief but instructive episode in the history of Hungarian foreign policy – and an old question has once again come to the fore: what is the purpose of international criminal law, and why is it worth participating in it?
The long road from Nuremberg to The Hague
International criminal law is not the fruit of natural development but was born out of wars and mass atrocities. The birth date of international criminal law in the modern sense is 1945, when the victorious Allied powers established the Nuremberg Tribunal. The principles laid down there – for example, that certain crimes cannot go unpunished simply because the perpetrator acted on behalf of a state – were considered revolutionary ideas.
The decades of the Cold War froze progress; the Soviet Union and the United States neutralised each other in the UN Security Council, so a permanent international criminal court could not be established. The era of ad hoc tribunals arrived in the 1990s: the ICTY (1993), which investigated war crimes committed in the territory of the former Yugoslavia, followed by the ICTR (1994), which tried the Rwandan genocide, proved that international criminal justice is not merely a theory.
The ICC: the birth of a permanent forum
The International Criminal Court was established by the Rome Statute, which came into force in 2002 – some 120 states voted in favour of the founding document. The jurisdiction of the Hague-based court covers the most serious crimes: genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes and the crime of aggression. However, a key limitation is that the ICC may only take action if the perpetrator is a national of a state that is a member of the ICC, or if the crime was committed, at least in part, on the territory of a state that recognises the ICC’s jurisdiction, and if a national court is unable or unwilling to proceed. It is also important to note that the ICC does not bring proceedings against states, but rather investigates the guilt of individuals, and according to established case law, it is the Court’s task to punish the leaders and decision-makers among the perpetrators, that is, those individuals who are most responsible for the crimes committed.
The Court’s first two decades of operation were not without difficulties. Eleven judgments were handed down, with four acquittals; numerous cases were dismissed, and some proceedings dragged on for years. Of the 59 arrest warrants issued by the ICC to date, many have remained on paper, as – as is generally the case with international bodies – the court has no enforcement powers and is therefore entirely dependent on the cooperation of member states.
The two major cases: Putin and Netanyahu
The two most significant ICC cases of recent years illustrate both the court’s power and its limitations.
In March 2023, the Court issued an arrest warrant for Russian President Vladimir Putin. According to the ICC, there are reasonable grounds to believe that the Russian president is responsible for the unlawful deportation of Ukrainian children to Russia. This was the first time such a warrant had been issued against a permanent member of the UN Security Council – its symbolic significance is undeniable, even if Putin’s arrest is not expected in the near future.
In November 2024, the court issued arrest warrants for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his then-Defence Minister, Yoav Gallant. The ICC’s Pre-Trial Chamber concluded that there are reasonable grounds to believe that the two leaders are complicit in starvation used as a method of committing war crimes, as well as in crimes against humanity, including murder and persecution.
These two cases are noteworthy from both a legal and an institutional perspective. The legal threshold for issuing an arrest warrant – the ‘reasonable grounds to believe’ standard – is deliberately lower than the ‘beyond reasonable doubt’ standard required for conviction, but it by no means amounts to an empty accusation: the issuance of a warrant means that the judges of the Court – not the prosecutor – have determined that there is sufficient factual basis and evidence regarding the crime and individual responsibility. This in itself is a serious finding from a legal perspective. Perhaps even more significant is the precedent set by the two cases together: the ICC has demonstrated that it is not only willing to take action against those involved in African conflicts, but also does not shy away from proceedings against a nuclear superpower or the leader of a state considered one of America’s closest allies in the Middle East. This represents at least a partial realisation of the application of an equal standard – and it is precisely for this reason that the two arrest warrants have also become the ultimate litmus test of the court’s political acceptability.
It is this dual nature – legal soundness and political explosiveness – that leads directly to the most common criticisms levelled at the court.
The criticisms – and the Orbán government’s arguments
The ICC faces criticism from many quarters, and not always without justification. The most serious structural criticism concerns the over-representation of Africa: the vast majority of the Court’s proceedings have involved African defendants, whilst investigations into alleged crimes committed by Western powers or their allies have consistently run into obstacles. This imbalance raises a genuine problem of legitimacy. Moreover, the three largest military powers – the United States, Russia and China – are not members of the ICC, leaving a glaring gap in the court’s jurisdiction.
The Orbán government announced its intention to withdraw in April 2025 – coinciding with Netanyahu’s visit to Budapest. According to the official justification, the ICC had “become a political body.” The government cited the arrest warrant against Netanyahu as an example of the Court having lost its professional credibility. The Hungarian government’s legal argument was also published: although Hungary had ratified the Rome Statute, it had never promulgated it, so – according to the claim – it had not become part of the domestic legal system. This argument does indeed contain a procedural flaw, but it does not exempt the country from its international obligations. Moreover, by withdrawing, Hungary would have become the only EU Member State not to be a member of the ICC, which could have had serious moral and even possible legal consequences.
Why, then, do we need the ICC – and why should there be more member states?
One can agree with some of the above criticisms without this necessarily implying that withdrawal is the only solution. The ICC’s imperfections are not an argument against the ICC, but a call for its reform. The ICC’s most important function is to break the culture of impunity. When a head of state knows that an arrest warrant may be issued against them for war crimes and their travel options are restricted, this in itself acts as a deterrent – even if the arrest and actual prosecution do not take place. Since the arrest warrant was issued for Putin, he has not actually travelled to the territory of any ICC member state, which represents a significant restriction for a sitting head of state.
The ICC is also a tool for the most vulnerable. It opens the way to justice for victims whose home countries refuse or are unable to provide it. Membership is not a voluntary political circus, but a humanitarian commitment: a promise that members will do everything in their power to ensure that the most serious crimes do not go unpunished, and that victims are not left without justice and compensation.
The institution’s weakness stems precisely from the shortcomings of its member states. The absence of the United States, Russia and China is a genuine structural deficiency – yet our withdrawal does not provide a solution to this deficiency. If reform is needed, it must be argued for from within, not by giving up our membership.
It is also worth considering what withdrawal means in moral terms. Every new member state strengthens the ICC’s jurisdiction, increases its enforcement capacity, and narrows the scope for impunity, whereas withdrawal achieves precisely the opposite. Those states that currently remain outside the system do not, in fact, exempt themselves from accountability – they merely contribute to ensuring that others cannot hold the perpetrators of the most serious crimes to account.
Disclaimer: this article is a translation of our original article written in Hungarian, which you can find here.
