The Consequential Mistake of Confusing Lawfare With Justice
The irony, as history and contemporary cases reveal, is that lawfare often generates outcomes precisely opposite to its intentions.
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Benjamin Netanyahu, Israel’s longest-serving prime minister, has faced a series of legal challenges since 2017 that have polarized public opinion and reshaped the nation’s political discourse.
Accused of bribery, fraud, and breach of trust, Netanyahu’s legal saga centers on allegations of improperly accepting gifts, offering favors to media outlets, and advancing regulatory benefits in exchange for favorable coverage.
While his opponents argue that these cases represent a legitimate effort to uphold accountability and the rule of law, many Israelis have framed the proceedings as politically motivated “lawfare” — an attempt to achieve through legal means what his adversaries could not accomplish at the ballot box.
Questioning whether a legal case against a politician constitutes lawfare is not necessarily an exercise in conspiracy-mongering or cynicism; it is an invitation to embrace nuance. After all, two truths can coexist in uneasy harmony: The charges can be grounded in solid evidence, while the timing, orchestration, or fervor of the proceedings can drip with political intent.
Justice and politics are not mutually exclusive realms; they often dance together, albeit to a tune that is as much about power as it is about principle. The real intrigue lies in deciphering whether the scales of justice are genuinely balanced — or whether someone has slipped a thumb onto the lever.
The duality of lawfare lies in its capacity to inhabit two realities simultaneously, like a Schrödinger’s cat of jurisprudence. This complexity is what makes lawfare such a tantalizingly slippery concept. To question the motivations behind a case is not to dismiss its legitimacy outright; it is to ask whether the scales of justice are being subtly tilted by unseen hands, reshaping accountability into a tool of advantage.
Take, for instance, the notion of timing in high-profile cases. Evidence may exist — emails, phone records, financial trails — but the decision to pursue charges at a particular moment can transform a case from a matter of law into a matter of political strategy. It is as though the prosecution is whispering, “Why let a perfectly good scandal go to waste?” The evidence might be real, but its rollout can be orchestrated to create maximum public impact, destabilize political opponents, or distract from inconvenient narratives elsewhere.
Furthermore, this duality does not just apply to the accusers but also to the accused. A politician under fire may genuinely have skeletons in their closet, yet they can still weaponize the legal proceedings against them. The accused often pivot, not to defend their actions, but to paint the charges as part of a broader conspiracy — a ploy by elites, shadowy forces, or political rivals to silence or destroy them. This strategy, often dripping with bravado and righteous indignation, is not just about survival; it is about reframing the narrative. The court of public opinion, after all, can be far more consequential than any verdict handed down in a courtroom.
Such cases are ultimately about perception. Lawfare thrives in the gray areas where justice and politics overlap. It invites us to ask uncomfortable questions: Who benefits from these proceedings? Why now? Is justice being served, or is it being staged? The answers are rarely straightforward, but the act of asking underscores an essential truth: Justice, to be legitimate, must not only be done but must be seen to be done, untainted by ulterior motives.
To acknowledge this paradox is not to deny justice or excuse wrongdoing. It is to remain vigilant, to hold both accusers and accused to the highest standards of transparency and accountability. The moment we stop questioning the motivations behind power is the moment we stop defending justice itself. In the end, the real battle is not between politicians and prosecutors; it is between those who seek to uphold the integrity of the law and those who would twist it to serve their own ends.
Coined as a portmanteau of “law” and “warfare,” lawfare refers to the strategic use — or misuse — of legal systems to achieve objectives that are often political, economic, or ideological. It is less about seeking justice and more about weaponizing legal mechanisms to suppress, intimidate, or delegitimize an opponent.
The irony, as history and contemporary cases reveal, is that lawfare often generates outcomes precisely opposite to its intentions. Instead of eroding credibility, it fortifies it. Instead of extinguishing popularity, it transforms the “victim” into a hero, celebrated by their followers and beyond.
Lawfare’s appeal lies in its veneer of legitimacy. Unlike overt acts of suppression — such as censorship or brute force — lawfare cloaks itself in the robes of due process. A lawsuit here, an indictment there, and the optics suggest impartiality and order. Yet beneath this façade often lies a strategic intent: to drown an adversary in litigation costs, tarnish their reputation, or tie them up in bureaucratic knots.
Take, for example, the infamous case of Julian Assange. The founder of WikiLeaks became the target of relentless legal pursuits, ostensibly for breaching national security and exposing classified information.
Whether one sees Assange as a whistleblowing hero or a reckless anarchist, the avalanche of legal actions against him transformed his public image. To his detractors, he remained a rogue operative.
But to his supporters, he became a symbol of resistance, a David against the Goliath of state power. The legal quagmire only deepened his mythology, inviting scrutiny not just of Assange but also of the motivations of those wielding the law against him.
The lesson here is clear: Lawfare, when perceived as overreach, can backfire spectacularly. It transforms an adversary into a cause célèbre, galvanizing their base and attracting sympathizers who might otherwise have remained indifferent.
From Benjamin Netanyahu’s perspective, the timing and intensity of the bribery, fraud, and breach of trust charges were suspicious. The investigations emerged at a period when his political dominance seemed unassailable, leading critics to question whether the legal actions were aimed at undermining his leadership rather than pursuing genuine justice.
Moreover, the prosecution’s focus on issues such as Netanyahu’s acceptance of cigars and champagne, or his alleged role in shaping media narratives, has been criticized by some as disproportionate. While these actions may raise ethical concerns, their criminalization risks blurring the line between genuine corruption and the messy realities of political bargaining. This perceived overreach has strengthened Netanyahu’s narrative that the charges are less about justice and more about delegitimizing him as a leader.
Ironically, the lawfare framing has not weakened Netanyahu; it has, in many ways, fortified him. His legal woes have become a rallying cry for his supporters, consolidating his political base and allowing him to position himself as a defender of democracy under siege. While the cases against Netanyahu may aim to hold him accountable, they have also illustrated the double-edged nature of lawfare: the very act of seeking to diminish his influence has inadvertently strengthened his hold on power.
So when, in a massive legal bombshell, the International Criminal Court
on Thursday issued arrest warrants for Netanyahu and former defense minister Yoav Gallant on charges of crimes against humanity and war crimes, I could not help myself from thinking that this was another attempt at lawfare — especially since the decision marked the first time that the International Criminal Court has ever issued arrest warrants against leaders of a democratic country.
The timing is indeed a masterpiece of manipulation, the kind of high-stakes theater that makes geopolitics feel like a wicked season finale of an HBO drama series.
Yesterday, just a day before this bombshell announcement, the 10 non-permanent members of the United Nations Security Council speciously sponsored a resolution for an unconditional ceasefire in Gaza that did not explicitly call for the immediate release of hostages. All other countries on the 15-seat council voted in favor of the resolution, but the U.S. honorably vetoed it.
This reeks of nefarious orchestration, a carefully calculated attempt to muddy the waters and end the war well short of Hamas and Hezbollah’s inevitable defeat. The question isn’t if someone is pulling the strings — it’s who has the most to gain by sowing chaos and stoking divisions against and within Israel itself. Enter the shadowy, ever-present specter of anti-Israel animus, that peculiar international pastime where agendas are sharpened at the expense of Jewish sovereignty.
Who could this be? Perhaps one of those self-proclaimed champions of “justice” who regularly grace the pages of international opinion columns, denouncing Israel's every move while conveniently ignoring the atrocities of its adversaries. Or perhaps it is the work of an ideological puppet master who knows that lawfare is the only recourse against Israel’s superior military and intelligence.
One does not need to squint too hard to see the familiar patterns of age-old prejudices cloaked in modern rhetoric: the finger-pointing, the double standards, the strategic silences in the face of real terror.
But here’s the kicker: Israel has weathered storms like this before, and its enemies consistently underestimate the resilience of its people. Yes, these legal troubles may cause momentary ripples in the public sphere, but they also provide Israel with yet another opportunity to tap into the collective defiance that has defined the Jewish state’s history.
Every attempt to delegitimize, every smear campaign or ill-timed legal ambush, reinforces the narrative that Israel’s survival is not just a matter of geopolitics but a testament to the perseverance of its people against insurmountable odds.
If this is lawfare in its most cynical form, then it is sure to backfire yet again. Israel thrives not despite its adversaries — but because of them. For every twisted javelin they throw, Israel has emerged sharper, stronger, and ever more determined to persevere.
A case in point. Did anyone notice that we just had an election here in the U.S? I wonder how many people voted for President Trump specifically because of all of the lawfare that he has had to tolerate over the last three years. Love him or hate him, like him or not, the man has been getting the shaft for a long time. "Regular folks" saw that and thought, "If 'they' can do that to him, what sort of chance do I have in the so-called courts of justice?" And now, the people have resoundingly spoken. Do you think his stature and cred have gotten bigger because of it? We will see. By the way, the name of the the ICC should be changed to the International Cangeroo (sic) Court."
Thank you for a very nuanced and clear explanation of lawfare and how to evaluate it. Clearly Israel’s enemies are using the ICC and ICJ cases as part of an overall political strategy to delegitimize, stigmatize, and weaken Israel. But as you said, that of course doesn’t mean that the cases are necessarily phony or can be dismissed out of hand. I am skeptical that the timing of today’s ICC announcement was related to the Security Council vote. The ICC panel of judges has been deliberating on this issue for around 6 months, and around a month or so ago one of the judges was replaced for health reasons. They have been under intense pressure to issue a ruling for a long time, and there have been plenty of other political developments during the last half year that could have triggered their ruling if that had been their goal. Absent evidence to the contrary, I think the most likely explanation is that today is just when they finally finished deciding the immense number of difficult questions this case involved and getting the new judge up to speed.