War begins when law ends. The epitome of lawlessness is the killing of another human being, and that is the goal of war. If legal solutions worked, there would be no need for war. Yet for centuries we have tried to regulate even this unlawful phenomenon.

Examples of wartime restrictions can be seen throughout history. The prohibition of war during the sacred months—a familiar narrative for most of us—is one such measure that limits recourse to war. The immunity granted by the Prophet of Islam upon entering Mecca for certain individuals and locations can also be considered a protective act by our ancestors. These two examples, more familiar to Iranians, can be found in various cultures and times. In any case, the intent has always been to subject war to some level of restraint, so that not everyone, at any time, could resort to war and harm the enemy by any means during conflict.

If we move past the history of efforts to regulate war, the present day still features these two types of restrictions, now more detailed and aimed at preventing war or, if war occurs, at alleviating the additional suffering of human beings. The first category is called jus ad bellum (the law on the use of force), and the second is jus in bello (the law in war), which is also known as International Humanitarian Law. The subject of this article is humanitarian law, meaning the second category.

The goal of humanitarian law is to reduce the suffering caused by war. If we assume the purpose of war is to “defeat the enemy,” killing civilians does not serve that end. Therefore, it must be limited, and war, if it happens, should be confined to military objectives that align with the war’s purpose. If someone asked me what humanity’s greatest achievement over thousands of years of civilization is, I would unhesitatingly say: humanitarian law—that moment when you hold a weapon but don’t kill, harbor hatred but don’t destroy, and restrict yourself solely to the objectives “assigned” to you. This requires education during peacetime and oversight during times of war.

The International Red Cross Movement began in the mid-19th century through the efforts of Henry Dunant. Dunant, a Swiss businessman, happened to be near the battlefield of Solferino, where Austria and France clashed. He witnessed the wounded lying on the ground until they died from blood loss, infection, or even thirst. The stench and horrific scenes compelled him to publish his observations in the Memoirs of Solferino and subsequently establish an organization to care for the wounded—what we now know as the International Committee of the Red Cross. In the following decades, military directives, academic research, and personal initiatives emerged worldwide to prevent “unnecessary suffering” during war.

The late 19th and early 20th centuries were a time when several states gathered in The Hague to draft laws transforming war from barbarism into a military operation with defined objectives. The first step in The Hague was to codify the rules of war to both protect people and limit the weapons and methods of warfare. Weapons and tactics that caused unnecessary suffering, were disproportionate to the war’s aims, and failed to distinguish between combatants and civilians were prohibited. Protections for individuals were also established, which were further developed in Geneva half a century later.

After World War II, states once again gathered in Geneva to extend protections to individuals. These included combatants no longer engaged in warfare—shipwrecked soldiers, prisoners of war, and the wounded—as well as civilians who had nothing to do with the conflict. Consequently, shooting a wounded or captured soldier who no longer poses a threat was recognized as a war crime. This protection extended to civilians under the Fourth Geneva Convention of 1949: civilians, civilian property, and civilian locations were granted immunity to prevent a repeat of the massacres that occurred during World War II. In addition, the two Additional Protocols of 1977 introduced further protective measures and addressed the conduct of internal conflicts. By the 1980s, humanitarian law seemed to have reached a pinnacle. Yet war persisted, and Iranian cities were bombarded without military justification during that same decade, turning these rules into bitter irony for us. Iraqi forces continued bombing civilian locations and killing or torturing our prisoners.

The Balkan wars of the 1990s also demonstrated that hatred often overpowers law. People born long after the Ottoman atrocities were forced to atone for crimes committed by others who themselves were born after those events. This tragic irony produced the massacres of Srebrenica and elsewhere, once again dashing hopes for humanitarian law.

As in many areas of law where criminals stay a step ahead of legislation, in humanitarian law too, targeted killings beyond the battlefield and cyber warfare have outpaced the legal frameworks of The Hague and Geneva.

Is killing Osama bin Laden in his home—while unarmed and not actively participating in hostilities—the same as killing an armed soldier shooting at you? Is the mere fact that someone was once deemed an enemy sufficient reason to kill them? These and similar questions were being asked in a time before war regressed into its current state of lawlessness.

We know that targeting hospitals, homes, schools, and all civilian or cultural sites is strictly forbidden. Yet in the more than a year and a half since the war between Israel and Hamas began, we have witnessed the destruction of all these in Gaza on a daily basis. But what happened during the twelve-day war? Israel’s propaganda machine portrays its military as the “most moral” army in the world, claiming that its precision strikes avoid civilian casualties. Current data indicate that the official count from Iran’s side lists around 1,200 killed, about 700 of whom were civilians. HERANA estimates 1,190 deaths: 436 civilians, 435 military personnel, and 319 individuals of unknown status. Accepting either source, the number of civilians killed in Iran—who were absolutely not legitimate targets and should have been fully protected under the Fourth Geneva Convention of 1949—is alarmingly high. According to the principle of distinction, attacks must be carried out with precision and limited strictly to military targets (Article 4 of the First Additional Protocol to the Geneva Conventions). Therefore, strikes on residential neighborhoods in various cities, where distinction is impossible, constitute violations of humanitarian law.

Moreover, not every military personnel is a legitimate target. The first three Geneva Conventions of 1949 provide protections for combatants who are hors de combat—out of the fight. Anyone not directly participating in hostilities is immune from harm. This includes captured soldiers, the wounded, or anyone not actively engaged in battle. The prevailing interpretive rule is known as the “Rule of Doubt,” which states that if there is any doubt whether a person or place is a legitimate target, it must be presumed not to be (Paragraph 3, Article 52, First Additional Protocol). As such, a military individual in their home, outside a military environment, should be considered an illegitimate target.

Furthermore, nuclear scientists who have not contributed to the construction of nuclear weapons used in the war (and clearly no nuclear weapons were used in the twelve-day war) cannot be deemed involved in weapons production. Even if they had been, once they are off duty and in their residential homes, they no longer qualify as legitimate targets. Targeting illegitimate objectives constitutes a war crime. What we see after some time has passed is the destruction of homes, kindergartens, and intersections, and the indiscriminate killing of civilians. Even some of the killed military personnel could be considered illegitimate targets.

International humanitarian law, in its current structure largely a product of Western civilization, is now collapsing under broad Western support. Talking about Israel’s “right to self-defense” and legitimizing its attacks on cities and civilian sites amounts to ignoring humanitarian law altogether. If such events occurred in the West, Western politicians would surely side with us and label them war crimes (as they did during the Yugoslavian conflicts); but when the perpetrator is the pampered child of Western civilization, and the victims are Middle Eastern, support is extended instead.

With this war, the views and policies of Western governments are also shifting—from what Henry Dunant initiated and thousands helped develop to the current justification of a situation where nothing stops the Israeli military machine from attacking various countries. Neither the law on war nor the law in war is taken seriously.

Humanitarian law is not flawless and cannot address every possible scenario. The same applies to domestic law: premeditated murder is a crime in every legal system, yet this criminalization does not prevent murder in every society. That does not render criminal law useless. Humanitarian law, too, seems to be undergoing transformation. If Israel’s media censorship were not in place, similar comparisons could likely be made from the other side. But for now, the world has unleashed the dogs and shackled the stones. Middle Eastern victims (including the author’s compatriots) do not matter to the world powers, and war is considered the first option in advancing policy. Humanitarian law remains in place while war moves forward, killing people—and we are the ones being killed. The very knowledge that was supposed to protect us—humanitarian law—is devalued a little more every day.