The UN’s Veto Trap: How Superpowers Sabotage Their Own Scapegoat 

The United Nations is often portrayed as the cornerstone of international diplomacy, a forum where nations come together to resolve disputes, prevent wars, and promote human rights. Yet, in practice, the UN is frequently cast as a convenient scapegoat by the very superpowers that designed it. Its structure, particularly the veto power held by the five permanent members of the Security Council, the United States, Russia, China, the United Kingdom, and France, has become a structural bottleneck, ensuring that decisive action is only possible when the interests of these nations align. Until the veto is removed, the UN will remain hamstrung, caught between high expectations and systemic limitations.

The veto was introduced in 1945 as a compromise to secure the participation of the world’s most powerful states. Without it, the founding members feared that superpowers might bypass or abandon the organization altogether. In theory, the veto was a stabilizing mechanism. In practice, it has become a tool for inaction. Consider Syria: during the ongoing civil war, Russia has repeatedly vetoed resolutions condemning the Assad regime and calling for intervention, while China has often supported Russia’s position. As a result, the Security Council has been paralyzed even in the face of clear evidence of atrocities, leaving millions of civilians exposed to violence. Western leaders then criticize the UN for inaction, conveniently ignoring the very vetoes that prevented it from acting.

Other historical examples reinforce this pattern. During the Rwandan genocide in 1994, the Security Council was slow to act, partly due to reluctance from major powers to commit troops or risk entanglement. The UN Assistance Mission in Rwanda (UNAMIR) was critically under-resourced, and resolutions to expand its mandate were delayed or watered down. Later, when Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990, the Security Council acted decisively, but only because the superpowers’ interests aligned in opposing Saddam Hussein. This selective engagement demonstrates that the UN’s effectiveness is contingent less on law or morality than on the geopolitical priorities of the P5.

Even more recently, the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022 exposed the limitations of the UN system. Russia’s veto prevented any meaningful Security Council action, forcing Western nations to rely on unilateral sanctions, NATO coordination, and General Assembly resolutions that carry moral but not binding authority. Russia, in turn, dismissed UN criticism as biased or irrelevant, highlighting the paradox: the UN is invoked when it serves the interests of a superpower, and criticized when it does not. Similarly, the ongoing Israeli-Palestinian conflict shows how the U.S. veto has blocked resolutions condemning settlements or military actions, creating a perception that international law is applied selectively.

These examples illustrate a persistent problem: the UN is used by superpowers as both a tool and a scapegoat. It legitimizes actions when convenient, shields states from criticism, and is blamed for failures beyond its control. The veto allows a single nation to prevent collective action, regardless of the humanitarian or legal merits of a situation. Meanwhile, smaller nations, despite representing the vast majority of UN members, have little real influence. The General Assembly can issue resolutions expressing global consensus, but these are largely symbolic without enforcement mechanisms.

The solution is straightforward: no country should have veto power. The veto institutionalizes inequality and ensures that the UN cannot fulfill its mandate impartially. Proposals have been made to reform the Security Council, including requiring multiple vetoes to block a resolution or eliminating the veto for crimes against humanity, genocide, or aggression. Yet these reforms have stalled because the P5 have no incentive to relinquish privilege. True UN reform requires equalizing the decision-making process, where all nations have a voice and no single state can unilaterally obstruct action. Only then could the UN function as a legitimate arbiter of international law and human rights.

Until veto power is removed, the UN will continue to struggle. It will remain a forum where crises are debated but seldom resolved, where resolutions are celebrated symbolically but ignored in practice, and where superpowers externalize responsibility, casting the organization as weak or ineffectual while maintaining control behind the scenes. The world deserves a UN capable of enforcing its own principles, rather than one whose moral authority is hostage to the interests of a handful of powerful nations. Removing the veto is not just an administrative reform, it is a moral imperative, a prerequisite for a truly effective international system.

Echoes of Empire: Israel, Settler Colonialism, and the Future Legitimacy of Hamas

To argue that Israel is merely the latest in a series of colonial powers, one must first place its establishment and policies in a broader historical context. The creation of Israel in 1948 fits within the broader framework of Western colonialism, where European powers imposed their influence and control over territories in the Middle East, Africa, and Asia. The Balfour Declaration of 1917, in which Britain promised to facilitate the establishment of a Jewish homeland in Palestine, was a significant milestone in this regard. For Palestinians and their supporters, Israel represents an extension of Western imperialism, where the interests of European powers and their settler populations took precedence over the rights of indigenous people.

Israel’s actions, such as the construction of settlements in the West Bank and its long-standing blockade of Gaza, are frequently seen as modern expressions of settler colonialism. In these policies, parallels can be drawn with historical colonial practices where indigenous populations were displaced and marginalized. The ongoing expansion of Israeli territory, particularly following the 1967 Six-Day War, reinforces this perspective. Many Palestinians and their allies view Israel’s occupation and annexation of land as a form of Western-backed colonial domination, perpetuated by powerful allies like the United States.

In this context, groups like Hamas are positioned as resistance movements, much like anti-colonial forces that have fought against imperial domination in other regions. Hamas, founded in 1987 during the First Intifada, perceives itself as a defender of Palestinian rights and sovereignty. While currently labeled as a terrorist organization by Israel, the United States, and the European Union, this status might be reconsidered in the future, much as other revolutionary movements once designated as terrorists have been recontextualized.

A strong comparison can be made between Hamas and the Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA) in the 1970s and 1980s. Both organizations were born out of frustration with the perceived domination and occupation of their homelands by foreign powers. In Northern Ireland, the PIRA emerged in response to the British government’s involvement and control over the region, which many Irish nationalists considered a form of colonialism. Similarly, Hamas sees Israeli occupation of Palestinian territories as an affront to their national sovereignty.

Both groups relied heavily on armed struggle, including acts of violence that targeted both military and civilian entities, in their efforts to achieve political aims. Just as Hamas has launched rocket attacks on Israeli cities and employed suicide bombers, the PIRA carried out bombings, assassinations, and ambushes targeting British soldiers, government officials, and civilians in Northern Ireland and England. The PIRA justified its actions as part of a broader fight for Irish independence and reunification, while Hamas views its military actions as part of a resistance against Israeli occupation and for the establishment of an independent Palestinian state.

Furthermore, both organizations have been characterized by their dual roles as political and militant entities. The PIRA worked closely with Sinn Féin, its political wing, to gain support for its cause, while Hamas operates both a military wing and provides social services through its political wing. In the case of the PIRA, after years of violence, the Good Friday Agreement of 1998 allowed for a political resolution to the conflict in Northern Ireland. The PIRA agreed to lay down its arms, and Sinn Féin transitioned into a legitimate political party, representing the interests of Irish nationalists in a peaceful political process.

Hamas, too, has maintained a significant role in Palestinian governance, particularly after its electoral victory in Gaza in 2006. While the group has not laid down its arms or accepted a negotiated settlement with Israel, it continues to wield significant political power. As with the PIRA, the eventual resolution of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict could result in a reappraisal of Hamas’s role, with the possibility of its evolution into a fully political organization recognized by the international community.

While many argue that Hamas’s violent methods and hardline stance make it an obstacle to peace, others contend that it represents a legitimate expression of Palestinian resistance to Israeli occupation. In this narrative, just as the PIRA was ultimately seen as a key player in the peace process in Northern Ireland, Hamas may one day be regarded as a crucial political actor that fought for Palestinian freedom, even if its methods were controversial.

By framing Israel as the latest in a line of colonial powers and drawing comparisons between Hamas and movements like the PIRA, one can argue that Hamas, over time, may be viewed through a different lens. Like the PIRA, which was once seen solely as a terrorist organization, but later recognized as part of a legitimate political process, Hamas might also be reinterpreted as a political organization that fought for the freedom and self-determination of the Palestinian people. Such a shift in perception may only come with a lasting resolution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but historical precedent suggests that it is not an impossible outcome.

Losing the Diplomatic High Ground: America’s Isolation on Palestine

The international recognition of Palestine by Canada, Australia, and now the United Kingdom represents more than a symbolic act. It is a tectonic shift in global diplomacy that leaves Israel increasingly isolated. But perhaps the greater casualty is the United States, which finds its credibility and diplomatic standing downgraded by clinging to unconditional support for Israel in defiance of its closest allies. For Washington, the erosion of moral and strategic authority is becoming harder to disguise.

For decades, American foreign policy has rested on two pillars: an unwavering defense of Israel and a claim to universal principles of democracy, human rights, and international law. These pillars are now in conflict. As humanitarian conditions in Gaza dominate global headlines and images of suffering circulate daily, the United States insists that Israel’s military actions fall within the bounds of self-defense. Yet its closest allies no longer accept that narrative. By moving to recognize Palestine, Canada, Australia, and the U.K. are declaring that the humanitarian and political costs of Israel’s occupation and military campaigns can no longer be justified. In doing so, they implicitly rebuke Washington’s stance and downgrade America’s claim to moral leadership.

The credibility gap is stark. In London, Ottawa, and Canberra, leaders framed recognition of Palestine as a step toward justice, peace, and accountability. British Prime Minister Keir Starmer emphasized that recognition was both a matter of principle and of practical necessity for a two-state solution. Canadian and Australian leaders voiced similar reasoning, pointing to the humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza and the futility of endless deferrals of Palestinian statehood. In Washington, by contrast, the Biden administration maintains that recognition should only come after negotiations, a formula that has effectively stalled for three decades while Israeli settlement expansion continued unchecked. To many observers abroad, the U.S. position now looks like obstruction rather than leadership.

The diplomatic costs of this divergence are real. In forums such as the United Nations and the G20, the United States will find itself increasingly out of step not only with traditional critics in the Global South but with its own allies in the Anglosphere. Where once Washington could count on Canada or the U.K. to stand shoulder-to-shoulder in defense of Israel, it now risks looking like the last holdout defending a morally untenable status quo. That weakens American leverage on other issues, from rallying support for Ukraine against Russia to building coalitions in the Indo-Pacific to counter China. Allies may privately question why they should follow Washington’s lead on those fronts if the U.S. refuses to apply its professed values consistently.

At home, the contradictions are becoming sharper. Public opinion in the United States has shifted markedly, especially among younger Americans, who are far more sympathetic to Palestinians than their parents’ generation. Within the Democratic Party, calls for conditioning military aid to Israel or pressing harder for humanitarian access in Gaza are growing louder. Recognition moves by allies give these voices new legitimacy. If Canada and the U.K., two of Washington’s closest partners, can recognize Palestine, progressives ask, why can’t the U.S.? This deepens the political fault lines at home, with Republicans portraying recognition as rewarding terrorism while Democrats remain divided.

The broader danger is that the United States undermines its own strategic role as a credible broker in the Middle East. For decades, Washington has claimed to be the only power capable of mediating peace, precisely because of its unique leverage over Israel. But if the U.S. remains the only major Western democracy refusing to accept Palestinian statehood, it risks forfeiting that position. The European Union, or even a coalition of Arab states working with global partners, could step into the vacuum. Meanwhile, China and Russia eagerly exploit the perception of American hypocrisy, casting themselves as champions of Palestinian rights to gain influence across the Arab world and the wider Global South.

Washington still has choices. It can double down on its current course, shielding Israel diplomatically and vetoing recognition measures in international bodies. That would preserve its role as Israel’s protector but at the cost of deepening isolation and accelerating its decline in moral authority. Alternatively, it can begin to align more closely with its allies, signaling openness to Palestinian statehood while maintaining Israel’s security. Such a shift would not be politically easy, but it would restore some credibility and help rebuild American leadership. A third path lies in leveraging its support for Israel to demand concessions: humanitarian access, restraint in settlements, genuine negotiation. This would require a level of assertiveness toward the Netanyahu government that Washington has so far lacked.

The choice matters because America’s global position is at stake. Recognition of Palestine by Canada, Australia, and the U.K. is not just a rebuke of Israel, it is a rebuke of Washington’s failure to adapt to changing realities. The longer the United States clings to its lonely defense of Israel’s current policies, the more it downgrades its own diplomatic standing. Superpowers do not stay superpowers by ignoring their allies, and moral leadership cannot be maintained when it is visibly contradicted by one’s closest friends.

The United States once held the diplomatic high ground by presenting itself as both Israel’s ally and a defender of universal values. That balance has been lost. If Washington does not recalibrate soon, it risks becoming a diminished power: a superpower in name, but isolated, distrusted, and out of step with the very countries that once formed the backbone of its alliances. Recognition of Palestine is a turning point — not only for Israel and the Palestinians, but for America’s place in the world.

References
• Associated Press. “UK recognizes Palestinian state, joining Australia and Canada.” AP News. September 2025. Link
• Associated Press. “Canada joins push to recognize Palestinian statehood.” AP News. August 2025. Link
The Australian. “Australia, UK and Canada join to recognise Palestine.” The Australian. August 2025. Link
• Angus Reid Institute. “Most Canadians believe Israel is committing genocide in Gaza.” Angus Reid. September 2025. Link
• Times of Israel. “Israel mulling halt to security ties with UK if it recognizes Palestine.” Times of Israel. August 2025. Link
• World Policy Hub. “A historic shift: Why Europe is moving toward recognizing the state of Palestine.” World Policy Hub. August 2025. Link

Francesca Albanese and the Anatomy of a War

Francesca Albanese, the United Nations Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights in the Occupied Palestinian Territories, has become one of the most influential, and controversial, voices in global human rights discourse. An Italian international lawyer appointed in 2022, Albanese has positioned herself at the forefront of international legal scrutiny over Israel’s conduct in Gaza. Her reports, grounded in humanitarian and international law, have consistently challenged the mainstream narratives upheld by Western governments. As the Gaza war grinds through its second year, Albanese has emerged not merely as a monitor, but as a forceful advocate for accountability, naming states, corporations, and institutions she believes are complicit in what she bluntly calls a genocidal campaign.

Her March 2024 report to the UN Human Rights Council marked a turning point. Titled “Anatomy of a Genocide,” the report concluded there were reasonable grounds to believe that Israel had committed acts constituting genocide against the Palestinian people in Gaza. She outlined three of the five legally defined genocidal acts under the 1948 Genocide Convention: the killing of group members, the infliction of serious bodily or mental harm, and the deliberate imposition of conditions calculated to bring about physical destruction. At the time of her report, more than 32,000 Palestinians had been killed, including over 13,000 children. Thousands more were presumed dead under rubble. The report accused Israel not only of disproportionate military action, but of implementing a systematic campaign to make Gaza uninhabitable.

The reaction was explosive. Israeli officials condemned the report as biased and dangerous. U.S. officials accused her of ignoring the Hamas attacks of October 7, 2023, which triggered Israel’s full-scale assault on Gaza, but Albanese had not ignored them. She acknowledged the attacks and the killing of Israeli civilians, calling for accountability for all war crimes. Her argument, however, centered on the scope and scale of Israel’s response, one she argued had moved far beyond self-defense into collective punishment and mass destruction. She called for arms embargoes, sanctions, and referrals to the International Criminal Court.

In July 2025, Albanese issued another report that further intensified international debate. This time, she focused on the role of private industry in sustaining the Gaza war. The 27-page document named over sixty multinational corporations allegedly involved in arming or profiting from the Israeli military campaign. Among them were Lockheed Martin, Elbit Systems, Caterpillar, Palantir, Microsoft, and Alphabet. Albanese argued that the war was not just politically and ideologically driven, but economically sustained a “lucrative genocidal campaign” in her words. She asserted that private military and surveillance industries were supplying the tools of destruction in Gaza, enabling and profiting from the ongoing devastation of Palestinian civilian life.

The U.S. government, under President Donald Trump and Secretary of State Marco Rubio, responded swiftly. In early July 2025, Albanese became the target of sanctions under the Global Magnitsky Act. Her U.S. assets were frozen, her entry into the United States banned, and she was publicly accused of antisemitism and abuse of her UN mandate. The sanctions were unprecedented. Never before had a UN Special Rapporteur been personally sanctioned by a Security Council member state. Rubio framed the action as a necessary response to what he called her “campaign of political warfare against Israel.”

International condemnation followed. UN officials, the European Union, and rights organizations including Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch decried the move as a direct assault on the independence of UN experts. The UN High Commissioner for Human Rights reminded member states that Rapporteurs operate under strict mandates and do not represent the UN’s institutional voice, but contribute independent expertise essential to global governance. Amnesty International called the sanctions “a disgrace to international justice,” warning they would have a chilling effect on future investigations of powerful states. Albanese herself called the measures “obscene,” arguing they were designed to silence her work and shield Israel and its allies from legal scrutiny.

At the core of Albanese’s work is a consistent demand for equal application of international law. She insists that rights and protections cannot be selectively applied based on alliances or geopolitical convenience. In doing so, she has tapped into a growing current of frustration, particularly in the Global South, where the credibility of Western-led institutions is seen as deeply compromised. Her reports have become essential reading for legal scholars, policymakers, and activists seeking to understand not only the Gaza conflict, but also the broader erosion of global legal norms.

Francesca Albanese is not neutral, nor does she pretend to be. Her work takes a moral stance, grounded in legal analysis and human rights doctrine. It is that very combination, rigorous documentation and unapologetic condemnation, that has made her one of the most important, and most polarizing, figures in the debate over Gaza. She has forced the international community to confront uncomfortable truths, not only about war, but about complicity, silence, and profit.

Sources:
https://www.reuters.com/business/aerospace-defense/lucrative-business-deals-help-sustain-israels-gaza-campaign-un-expert-says-2025-07-01
https://www.apnews.com/article/e74d283c8cb9c1a61eec61a22ce62dc0
https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/7/10/un-expert-albanese-rejects-obscene-us-sanctions-for-criticising-israel
https://www.un.org/unispal/document/states-must-adhere-to-obligations-under-genocide-convention-francesca-albanese-ohchr-pr-26mar24
https://www.amnesty.org.au/usa-sanctions-against-francesca-albanese-are-disgrace-t-international-justice
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_inauguration_of_Donald_Trump

Why the West Applies a Double Standard on Israel

In international relations, consistency is often sacrificed at the altar of strategic interest. Nowhere is this more glaring than in the West’s treatment of Israel. While Western leaders are quick to condemn human rights violations, breaches of international law, and military aggression in most parts of the world, Israel remains a conspicuous exception. The recent conflicts in Gaza, the continued expansion of settlements in the West Bank, and the killing of civilians have drawn sharp criticism from human rights organizations, yet Western governments offer little more than qualified support, often couched in the language of “self-defence.”

Were any other nation to behave in a similar manner, bombing dense civilian areas under the claim of rooting out terrorism, occupying territory for over half a century, or engaging in collective punishment, the outcry from Washington, London, Ottawa, or Berlin would be swift and uncompromising. Yet, in Israel’s case, the pattern is predictable: diplomatic shielding, media reframing, and a reflexive invocation of antisemitism to deflect criticism.

This moral dissonance is not accidental. It is the result of historical, strategic, and political factors that have entrenched Israel’s exceptional status in the Western imagination. Foremost among these is the enduring legacy of the Holocaust. The genocide of six million Jews in Europe left a deep scar on the conscience of Western democracies, particularly Germany and the United States. In the aftermath of World War II, support for the establishment of a Jewish homeland was seen not only as a matter of justice, but of redemption. That sense of obligation persists, even when it conflicts with the principles of international law and universal human rights.

Israel has also embedded itself as a crucial strategic ally in Greater West Asia (GWA). It is a technologically advanced, militarily powerful, and politically stable partner in a region that has long been plagued by authoritarianism and volatility. Intelligence cooperation, arms development, and a shared interest in containing Iran have bound Israel and Western states, especially the United States, into a tightly knit alliance. This alliance, while often described in ideological terms as a partnership of democracies, is grounded in hard power and realpolitik.

Domestic western politics further reinforce this bond. In the United States, support for Israel transcends party lines, bolstered by a powerful pro-Israel lobby led by organizations such as AIPAC. Members of Congress routinely pledge unwavering support, while criticism of Israel can be politically perilous. In Canada, the U.K., and Australia, similar dynamics play out, albeit on a smaller scale. Politicians who speak out against Israeli policies risk being labelled antisemitic or accused of enabling terrorism. This silencing effect extends into media and academia, where critiques of Israeli actions are often met with institutional resistance.

Media framing plays a pivotal role in sustaining public support. Western coverage of conflicts involving Israel is often shaped by narratives of defence and victimhood. Rockets fired by Hamas are headline news; the destruction of entire apartment blocks in Gaza tends to be relegated to the fine print. Palestinian voices are underrepresented or presented through a security lens. When civilian casualties occur, they are regrettable but justifiable; when Israeli lives are lost, they are a tragedy and a rallying cry. This asymmetry in storytelling has a powerful effect on public perception and, by extension, policy.

Underlying all of this is the West’s enduring habit of applying different standards to allies and adversaries. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has rightly been condemned as a violation of sovereignty, and a threat to international order. Iran’s domestic repression and regional aggression are frequently highlighted in official communiqués. Yet when Israel imposes a blockade on Gaza, builds illegal settlements, or enacts policies that human rights organizations have labeled apartheid, the West remains largely silent. The principle of international law becomes selectively invoked, its moral force diluted by political convenience.

This selective morality undermines the credibility of Western foreign policy. It sends a clear message to the world: rules apply, but not to everyone. For countries in the Global South, this hypocrisy is not lost. It fuels resentment, breeds cynicism, and erodes the legitimacy of institutions meant to uphold international norms. It also weakens the West’s ability to advocate for human rights elsewhere, as its own inconsistencies become fodder for authoritarian propaganda.

None of this is to deny Israel’s right to exist or to defend its citizens from violence, but rights come with responsibilities. The consistent failure of Western governments to hold Israel accountable when it breaches international standards does neither Israel nor the broader international community any favours. In fact, it encourages impunity, hardens divisions, and prolongs a conflict that desperately needs resolution.

A rules-based order cannot survive on exceptions. If the West truly believes in human rights, international law, and the dignity of all peoples, then it must apply those standards universally, without fear, favour, or exception.

References:

  • Human Rights Watch. (2021). A Threshold Crossed: Israeli Authorities and the Crimes of Apartheid and Persecution. https://www.hrw.org/report/2021/04/27/threshold-crossed
  • Amnesty International. (2022). Israel’s apartheid against Palestinians: a cruel system of domination and a crime against humanity. https://www.amnesty.org/en/documents/mde15/5141/2022/en/
  • Mearsheimer, J. & Walt, S. (2007). The Israel Lobby and U.S. Foreign Policy. Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
  • Finkelstein, N. (2003). The Holocaust Industry. Verso.
  • Pappé, I. (2006). The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine. Oneworld.