Trump makes war on the International Criminal Court

“It is only a matter of time” before the International Criminal Court interferes with “American military and law enforcement operations,” Secretary of State Marco Rubio warned in July. Convinced that such meddling would “mean the death of the United States as a sovereign and independent nation,” Rubio promised that the U.S. would use “all the tools” at its disposal to “dismantle” the court, “brick by brick.”

On Oct. 9, the Trump administration, which had previously sanctioned 17 of the court’s judges, prosecutors and officials , froze its U.S. assets and prohibited Americans and American companies, with limited exceptions, from doing business with it. The goal, said Rubio , is to starve “this rogue court” of resources and cripple “its ability to operate.”

The International Criminal Court, it is worth noting, was established to prosecute perpetrators of genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes. In an era marked by “might makes right,” it provides a forum for trying offenders when national legal systems cannot or will not. It also encourages governments to conduct their own trials and helps strengthen international norms.

To be sure, the court can in theory prosecute Americans for crimes committed in countries that have accepted its jurisdiction. But multiple obstacles make such prosecutions unlikely.

Since beginning operations nearly a quarter of a century ago, the court has convicted only 15 defendants , none of them Americans.

The International Criminal Court can only prosecute someone if the relevant national legal system is unable or unwilling to do so. Moreover, the court has no police force — it depends entirely on member states to execute its arrest warrants.

But even countries legally obligated to cooperate with the court may refuse to surrender politically powerful defendants. For example, in 2023, the court issued an arrest warrant for Russian President Vladimir Putin for war crimes in Ukraine. In 2024, Putin visited Mongolia, an ICC member state. He was welcomed , not arrested.

Last year, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu visited Hungary, another ICC member, despite a 2024 arrest warrant relating to the war in Gaza. Hungarian officials welcomed him as well.

In the early 2000s, the U.S. threatened to withhold military assistance and foreign aid from governments that refused to enter into treaties designed to prevent them from surrendering Americans to the International Criminal Court without U.S. consent. More than 100 countries ultimately signed. The U.S. also uses status of forces agreements to protect military personnel stationed abroad.

That said, the court still has an impact that the Trump administration doesn’t like. Even though Putin and Netanyahu remain in power, the court’s arrest warrants undermine their legitimacy, limit their travel, and brand some of their actions as not just illegitimate but criminal.

And in 2020, the court authorized an investigation into alleged atrocities in Afghanistan, including possible crimes by U.S. soldiers and Central Intelligence Agency personnel. In the face of intense political pressure , including the threat of sanctions against court personnel, the prosecutor ultimately focused his investigation on crimes committed by the Taliban and ISIS-K.

But even though no American has yet been charged, let alone tried, the Trump administration views the mere possibility of an investigation as intolerable.

President Trump is not alone in regarding the court as a grave threat to U.S. sovereignty. In 2002, President George W. Bush took the unprecedented step of rescinding former President Bill Clinton’s signature on the treaty establishing the International Criminal Court. That same year, the Republican-dominated Congress enacted the American Service-members’ Protection Act , sometimes called the “Hague Invasion Act,” authorizing the use of all necessary means — including military force — to free American or allied personnel detained by the court.

In contrast, former Presidents Barack Obama and Joe Biden cooperated selectively with court investigations and arrests. Obama supported the Security Council’s decision to refer atrocities in Libya to the court. Biden lifted sanctions that had been imposed in Trump’s first term. But neither administration accepted the court’s jurisdiction over Americans, and Biden strongly opposed the arrest warrant against Netanyahu.

What distinguishes Trump’s approach is his determination to punish the court in ways that go far beyond inhibiting the prosecution of Americans. his tactics have infuriated many of America’s closest allies, most of which are among the 125 states that have ratified the court’s statute. They have denounced U.S. sanctions and pledged “to support the court’s vital work.” European governments may even invoke the EU blocking statute to prevent their companies from complying with U.S. sanctions.

Why would the U.S. risk such a confrontation over an institution that poses so little danger to American interests? The answer lies in a worldview that resists any constraints on American power. Trump’s National Security Strategy insists on unilateral action to advance U.S. economic and security interests. Eager to escape the “sovereignty-sapping incursions” of international organizations, Trump has ordered U.S. withdrawal from 66 of them.

Nonetheless, the Oct. 9 sanctions break new ground. Instead of simply refusing to participate in an international institution it dislikes, the administration aims to put the International Criminal Court out of business.

In the name of defending American sovereignty, Trump seeks to deny other sovereigns the right to rely on an institution they created to pursue accountability for the worst international crimes. That irony is not lost on the rest of the world.

David Wippman is emeritus president of Hamilton College. Glenn C. Altschuler is the Thomas and Dorothy Litwin Emeritus Professor of American Studies at Cornell University.