The Legal Loophole That Could Let Genocide Sponsors Walk Free

By Sabah AL-Makki

The world’s most crucial treaty against genocide may soon prove unenforceable — and Serbia has just stepped in to help make that outcome more likely.
On April 16, 2025, Serbia filed a formal Declaration of Intervention at the International Court of Justice (ICJ) in the case brought by Sudan against the United Arab Emirates (UAE). Sudan accuses the UAE of violating the Genocide Convention by supporting the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) — a militia widely documented for its role in mass killings and ethnic violence in Darfur.
Serbia’s intervention does not contest the allegations or engage with the facts. Instead, it challenges whether the Court has the right to hear the case.
The argument is technical but dangerous: the UAE has entered a reservation to Article IX of the Genocide Convention, rejecting ICJ jurisdiction without its explicit consent. Serbia has joined that defense, claiming such reservations are legally valid — and that the Court must stand down.
But this is more than a procedural debate. If the ICJ accepts this argument, the Convention risks becoming a commitment without consequence—a legal framework in which accountability for genocide depends on the accused agreeing to be judged.

When genocide jurisdiction becomes optional
The Genocide Convention, adopted in 1948, was meant to bind states to obligations that transcend politics. Article IX allows the ICJ to adjudicate disputes over its interpretation and application. However, several states, including the UAE and Serbia, have filed reservations about this clause, effectively shielding themselves from legal challenges unless they voluntarily consent.
Serbia’s intervention gives political weight to the claim that consent, not the scale of the crime, determines whether justice is possible.
The consequences of this logic are stark. If reservations remain a reliable defense, the Convention offers no deterrent. Under international law, the worst crime becomes punishable only if the perpetrator allows it.

Serbia’s legal memory — and strategic interests
Serbia’s defense of jurisdictional reservations is not just about treaty interpretation; its legal history also shapes it.
In 2007, the ICJ ruled that Serbia had failed to prevent genocide at Srebrenica — the first such judgment in the Court’s history. Yet jurisdictional limits and evidentiary thresholds spared Belgrade from broader accountability.
Today, Serbia is not merely assisting the UAE by defending the same procedural barriers. It reinforces the legal tools that once protected its position and could do so again should future claims arise.
This is why Serbia’s intervention, presented as a neutral legal exercise, is anything but. It is a calculated defense of sovereignty over accountability.

The arms trail that could come back to Belgrade
Serbia’s political alignment with the UAE is no secret. Over the past decade, Belgrade and Abu Dhabi have deepened military cooperation and financial ties. One of the more telling examples was Serbia’s decision to grant citizenship to Mohammed Dahlan, senior adviser to UAE President Mohammed bin Zayed (MBZ) and a key figure in managing Emirati influence across the Balkans.
That relationship may become a strategic liability if Sudan’s case proceeds.
Part of the evidence reportedly submitted by Sudan includes Serbian-manufactured thermobaric shells, sold initially to the UAE Armed Forces but later recovered by Sudanese troops from RSF militia positions. Documented by arms monitoring groups, these munitions carry Serbian factory markings and export details linked to the UAE.
If the ICJ allows the case to advance beyond the jurisdictional phase, Serbia could face demands to explain how its defense exports reached a militia accused of atrocity crimes. A legal intervention intended to shield a partner from prosecution could instead draw Belgrade into the spotlight — not as a bystander but as a potential link in the chain of complicity.

The Genocide Convention is at risk.
What’s at stake is the outcome of Sudan’s legal challenge and the credibility of the Genocide Convention as a functioning legal instrument.
If reservations such as the UAE’s can block accountability, any government accused of aiding genocide can simply opt out of the process. The Convention—drafted as the legal embodiment of “never again”—risks becoming a statement of moral intent without enforcement.
The ICJ, in turn, faces a test of its relevance. Upholding these jurisdictional shields would confirm the fears of many human rights advocates: that international justice remains negotiable and that sovereignty continues to trump victims’ rights.

What the Court decides will echo far beyond Sudan.
The Court’s decision on jurisdiction will shape this case and the global playbook for atrocity accountability in the decades ahead. If Serbia and the UAE’s argument succeeds, it will reinforce a system where impunity is protected by legal design.
But if the Court rejects this defense, it will send a different signal — that jurisdiction over genocide cannot be reduced to political discretion.
If the Court allows consent to block jurisdiction in genocide cases, the global commitment to “never again” risks becoming little more than a diplomatic slogan.
When jurisdiction becomes a privilege, justice is not denied by a lack of evidence but by the Court’s silence.