By Reed Brody
When hearings open on January 12 in The Hague at the International Court of Justice (ICJ) in The Gambia v. Myanmar, they will mark far more than a procedural milestone in a long-running case. They will represent a profound moment in the evolution of international justice—and a reminder that moral leadership is not the preserve of powerful states, but can come from small nations willing to act with legal courage.
In November 2019, The Gambia did something unprecedented. Acting not as a directly affected state, but on behalf of humanity as a whole—and with the support of the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation—it brought a case against Myanmar under the Genocide Convention, alleging that the country’s military had committed genocide against the Rohingya Muslim population. At the time, many observers were surprised that a small West African country would take on such a politically sensitive case involving a distant Asian state. Yet that surprise itself revealed a lingering misconception: that international law belongs primarily to the strong. The Gambia proved otherwise.
The background to the case is now well known. In 2016 and 2017, Myanmar’s military launched so-called “clearance operations” in Rakhine State that involved mass killings, widespread sexual violence, and the burning of hundreds of Rohingya villages. More than 700,000 Rohingya fled across the border into Bangladesh. UN investigators later concluded that there were reasonable grounds to believe genocide had been committed. Despite this, accountability efforts stalled amid geopolitical divisions and veto politics.
It was in this vacuum that The Gambia stepped forward. As then–Attorney General and Minister of Justice Abubacarr Marie Tambadou, a former prosecutor of the Rwandan genocide, explained at the time, the case was rooted in the Genocide Convention’s core idea: genocide is a crime of concern to all humanity, and all states have a duty to prevent and punish it. The Gambia’s action was not an act of charity or symbolism, but an assertion of law.
In January 2020, the ICJ unanimously ordered provisional measures, requiring Myanmar to take steps to prevent acts of genocide and to preserve evidence pending the hearings on the merits, which begin this month. That ruling confirmed that The Gambia’s legal theory was sound. For the first time, the Court accepted that a state not directly injured could nonetheless invoke responsibility under the Genocide Convention. International justice had quietly shifted.
The upcoming hearings now open the door to an overdue reckoning with the Myanmar military’s murderous campaign against the Rohingya. The Court will examine in detail whether Myanmar has breached the Genocide Convention. A judgment on the merits—whatever its precise legal contours—would carry enormous moral and political weight. By holding the military to account for its atrocities, the “World Court” could provide fresh impetus for international action, from targeted sanctions to renewed criminal accountability efforts, on behalf of all victims of Myanmar’s security forces.
The Gambia deserves particular praise not only for initiating the case, but for sustaining it over six years. Legal accountability at this level is slow, technical, and often frustrating. That the current Attorney General and Minister of Justice, Dawda Jallow, has continued to pursue the case with determination speaks to a national commitment that transcends individual officeholders. It signals that The Gambia understands this case as part of its international identity: a country willing not only to grapple with its own abusive past, but to stand up for the rule of law beyond its borders.
The ripple effects have already been felt. By demonstrating that a non-affected state can invoke the Genocide Convention before the ICJ, The Gambia created a template. Most notably, South Africa relied on that template when it brought genocide proceedings in 2023 against Israel at the ICJ for its conduct in Gaza. That case underscores how The Gambia expanded the horizons of international legal action. Indeed, the hearings on the merits opening this month are widely seen as a “dry run” for South Africa’s case, and the Court’s eventual ruling on what constitutes proof of genocide in Myanmar will help shape the legal standard it applies in Gaza.
In an era marked by cynicism about international institutions, The Gambia v. Myanmar stands as a reminder of what those institutions can still represent when states use them boldly and in good faith. The hearings on the merits will not bring immediate justice to the Rohingya, nor will they erase years of suffering and displacement. But they affirm a principle that matters deeply: that no state is too small to defend humanity, and no crime is too grave to be named in a court of law.
As the judges take their seats in The Hague, The Gambia can rightly be proud—not only of having brought a case, but of having helped reshape international justice itself.
