A US general, British PM, Netanyahu, and the paradox of war crimes

In 1945, US General Curtis LeMay offered a rare moment of candor. As his bombers incinerated Japanese cities, he told his crews, “If we lose, we’d all be tried as war criminals.” It was not a confession. It was a calculation. LeMay understood what most prefer to forget: in war, morality is not universal—it’s a privilege of the victor.

This concept is what some have called “logical insanity”—a paradox so absurd it could have been lifted from the pages of Catch-22. The reasoning was simple and terrifying: since war was killing thousands daily, the fastest way to end it was to be as brutal as possible. Save American lives by incinerating Japanese civilians. The same LeMay who orchestrated the Tokyo firebombing of 9 March 1945—which killed more people in a single night than either atomic bomb—would later bring carpet bombing and napalm to Vietnam, advocating to “bomb them back to the Stone Age.” Yet LeMay died a decorated general, not a defendant at The Hague.

This is the architecture of international justice: a system designed not to constrain power, but to sanctify it.

Justice for the weak, immunity for the strong

Consider the case of Tony Blair. A principal co-conspirator in George W. Bush’s 2003 invasion of Iraq—a war based on brazen lies that unleashed sectarian slaughter and cost over a million lives—Blair was not indicted. He was knighted. His reward for helping destabilize an entire region is a seat among the venerable, a grotesque testament to how high-level war crimes committed by Western leaders are not merely excused but celebrated. The fact that this same man is now poised to play a role in administering Gaza adds a cynical layer of farce to the whole spectacle.

The International Criminal Court, created in 2002 to prosecute genocide and war crimes, has become a theatre of selective enforcement. As one official reportedly told ICC Prosecutor Karim Khan, “The ICC is built for Africa and for thugs like Putin.” Western leaders and their allies are conspicuously absent from the docket. This isn’t a flaw—it’s the system working as intended.

Proportionality: A legal fiction

International humanitarian law is based on the principle of proportionality: civilian harm must not be excessive in relation to the military advantage. But who defines “excessive”? Who calculates “advantage”? The answer is always the same: those dropping the bombs.

LeMay’s firebombing of Tokyo was justified as a morale-breaking tactic. Civilian lives were weighed against hypothetical American casualties. One hundred thousand deaths were deemed acceptable. Was it proportional? The question itself is absurd. Proportionality, in practice, is whatever the powerful say it is.

In Vietnam, the same logic led to villages destroyed “in order to save them.” More bombs were dropped on Southeast Asia than in all of World War II. The law serves the strategy.

Netanyahu: The protected war criminal

Today, the most brazen example of this selective justice is Benjamin Netanyahu. The ICC has issued an arrest warrant for the Israeli Prime Minister, citing mass killings and disproportionate force in Gaza. The evidence is overwhelming: tens of thousands of civilians dead, hospitals and refugee camps bombed; famine conditions imposed on millions.

Yet Netanyahu travels freely, including to the United States—a country that helped establish the ICC but refuses to recognize its jurisdiction when it threatens allies. Under President Trump, this protection is explicit. Arrest warrants are for African warlords and Russian presidents, not for those aligned with Washington.

In Gaza, the concept of proportionality has been redefined with staggering cynicism. Entire apartment blocks are levelled to eliminate a single militant. Netanyahu’s impunity mirrors LeMay’s retirement and Blair’s knighthood. The pattern is unmistakable.

The logic of catch-22

Joseph Heller’s catch-22 captured the madness of war’s circular logic: war crimes are only crimes if committed by war criminals, and war criminals are only those who lose. LeMay’s quote resurfaced in Robert McNamara’s documentary “The Fog of War,” where McNamara admitted that had America lost, he and LeMay would have stood trial. The firebombing campaigns targeted civilians deliberately. By any objective standard, they were war crimes. But America won. And victors don’t face tribunals.

Power is the only law

The uncomfortable truth is that international law is not a true law. Real law constrains all equally within its jurisdiction. International humanitarian law does the opposite: it is a set of chains for the weak and a layer of rhetorical camouflage for the powerful.

Tony Blair’s knighthood, Curtis LeMay’s accolades, and Netanyahu’s protected travel are not glitches in the system; they are the system working exactly as intended. Until the international community develops mechanisms that can genuinely hold the powerful accountable—with the independence and backing to prosecute regardless of national flag or geopolitical alignment—concepts like proportionality will remain what they have always been: a flexible, meaningless justification for whatever those with the most powerful weapons decide to do. The logic remains insane. The law remains selective. The only thing that truly separates a war crime from a military necessity is a single, brutal question: Who wins?

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.