EDITORIAL: 68,900 war crimes, 97 convictions — international justice is falling behind

Kravchenko's report and what it reveals

On June 22, 2026, Ukraine's Prosecutor General Andriy Kravchenko presented his one-year activity report — and the numbers it contained should have stopped every Western parliament in its tracks. In the past year alone, Ukrainian prosecutors registered 72,295 new criminal proceedings related to the war. Of those, 68,900 qualify as war crimes. That is an average of nearly 190 war crimes registered per day, every day, for an entire year. 349 individuals received official suspicion notices. 258 cases were referred to Ukrainian courts. And of those, 97 resulted in guilty verdicts.

Ninety-seven. In a year of nearly seventy thousand documented war crimes. Even taking into account the complexities of wartime prosecution — the evidence challenges, the security constraints, the sheer volume of cases — that gap between the crimes registered and the justice delivered is a crisis. Kravchenko said so himself: the results, in his own words, are "not enough." When the chief prosecutor of a country under attack says his own system's output is insufficient, the world should listen.

The cumulative picture: 213,200 episodes since 2022

The one-year figures do not exist in isolation. Since Russia's full-scale invasion began in February 2022, Ukraine has recorded 213,200 criminal episodes under the war crimes umbrella. 242 verdicts have been issued in total — of which only 22 were delivered with the accused physically present in a Ukrainian courtroom. The rest were issued in absentia, against defendants who are in Russian custody, operating freely in Russia, or simply unreachable.

The 22 in-person convictions number is particularly striking. It means that for every 9,690 registered war crime episodes, there has been one verdict against a defendant who was actually in the dock. This is not a criticism of Ukraine's judiciary — it is a description of the structural impossibility that defines wartime accountability. You cannot try people you cannot arrest. And you cannot arrest people who are sheltered by the state committing the crimes.

213,200 episodes. I keep looking at that number. It means that over four years of war, Ukrainian prosecutors have documented, on average, more than 140 criminal episodes related to war crimes every single day, including weekends and holidays. The industrial scale of the documentation effort matches the industrial scale of the atrocities. And both dwarf the output of the justice system attempting to respond.

Putin, Lvova-Belova, Kobylyash, Sokolov, Shoigu, Gerasimov

The International Criminal Court has issued five sets of arrest warrants related to Russia's war against Ukraine. The first and most famous: Vladimir Putin and Maria Lvova-Belova, the Russian Presidential Commissioner for Children's Rights, arrested on March 17, 2023 for the unlawful deportation of Ukrainian children. The second: Generals Mikhail Kobylyash and Viktor Sokolov, arrested in March 2024 for missile strikes on civilian infrastructure. The third: former Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu and General Valery Gerasimov, arrested in June 2024 for the same category of attacks on civilian infrastructure, including energy facilities and water treatment plants.

Total detentions: zero. Not one of these individuals has been arrested and transferred to The Hague. Not one has faced a preliminary hearing at the ICC. Russia is not a signatory to the Rome Statute and thus has no legal obligation to surrender its citizens to the court. The warrants exist as legal documents — powerful as declarations of criminal responsibility, useless as instruments of immediate justice. They are indictments without a sheriff to serve them.

What the warrants do and do not accomplish

The absence of arrests does not make the ICC warrants meaningless. They impose travel restrictions — Putin has not visited any of the 124 ICC member states since his warrant was issued, limiting his diplomatic mobility. They create permanent legal jeopardy — if political circumstances change, if Russia's government collapses or transitions, the warrants remain active. They establish an international legal record that cannot be expunged by a peace deal and that future governments of Russia will inherit. And they signal to military commanders lower in the chain of command that issuing or following certain orders is a path to personal criminal liability.

None of these effects is nothing. But none of them is justice either. The parents of deported Ukrainian children did not receive justice when the warrant for Putin was issued. They received a piece of paper. Until the warrant becomes an arrest, it is a promise the international community cannot keep.

Five warrants. Five names that every justice system on earth theoretically must arrest on sight. And not one arrest in over a year. I understand the legal and political constraints. I understand that the ICC cannot deploy police. But I also understand that Ukrainian families are living with this reality every single day — the people who ordered the bombing of their homes are walking free, giving speeches, going on television. That is the justice gap in human terms.

The UN Commission's March 2026 findings

On March 12, 2026, the United Nations Independent International Commission of Inquiry on Ukraine published findings that confirmed what Ukrainian advocates had been documenting for years: the deportation and forcible transfer of Ukrainian children to Russia constitutes crimes against humanity. The Commission documented approximately 20,000 children forcibly removed from Ukrainian territory to Russia or Russian-controlled areas. Of those, approximately 80 percent have not been returned to Ukraine or to their families.

Crimes against humanity. Not war crimes — crimes against humanity. This is among the gravest categories of international criminal law, applied to the systematic removal of children from an occupied population. The Commission was precise: the transfers were systematic, directed by Russian state authorities, and designed to sever children's connection to their Ukrainian identity, language, and families.

Yale researchers and the network of facilities

Research teams at Yale University's Humanitarian Research Lab have documented over 6,000 Ukrainian children placed in at least 43 Russian facilities — including summer camps, boarding schools, and in some cases, Russian military youth programs. These children were placed in institutions designed to accelerate their Russification: Russian language instruction, Russian curriculum, Russian national identity formation, and in some cases, explicit military conditioning.

The word Russification sounds academic. What it means in practice is this: a ten-year-old from Mariupol, separated from her parents in the chaos of occupation, placed in a boarding school in Siberia, taught that Ukraine is a Nazi state and Russia is her homeland. By the time diplomatic pressure or legal processes create a path to her return, the question is whether she will want to come back — and whether the Ukraine she returns to will feel like home.

6,000 children in 43 facilities. I think about one child, not 6,000. A specific child, maybe eight years old, who spoke Ukrainian at home, whose grandmother told her stories about Kyiv, who is now being taught in Russian that her country never really existed. International justice is slow. That child's childhood is not waiting for it to catch up.

Torture, summary execution, sexual violence — documented and submitted to The Hague

Ukraine's human rights prosecutors have submitted documentation on 1,800 Ukrainian prisoners of war to the ICC, covering cases of torture, summary execution, sexual violence, and cruel, inhuman treatment. This documentation work is painstaking: each case requires witness testimony, medical evidence where accessible, corroborating intelligence, and legal framing that meets ICC evidentiary standards. In a wartime environment, gathering this evidence involves extraordinary risk for the investigators doing the work.

The 1,800 files represent a fraction of the documented prisoner abuse. Ukrainian and international organizations have documented systematic patterns of mistreatment in Russian prisoner of war facilities — patterns so consistent across different facilities, different time periods, and different victim profiles that they cannot be explained as isolated incidents. They are policy. And if they are policy, the chain of command leads somewhere specific.

Sexual violence as a weapon of war

Among the 1,800 documented prisoner cases, a subset specifically concerns sexual violence — used against both male and female prisoners as a tool of interrogation, humiliation, and control. The documentation of sexual violence in the context of armed conflict is particularly challenging: survivors face stigma, trauma, and fear of retaliation that suppresses reporting rates. The cases that have been documented are almost certainly an undercount of what actually occurred.

The ICC and the UN Commission have both acknowledged sexual violence as a systematic element of Russia's conduct in occupied territories — not only in prisoner facilities but also in the treatment of civilian populations under occupation. Prosecuting these crimes requires the ICC to have jurisdiction over the defendants and the capacity to hold proceedings. Both of those conditions remain unfulfilled for the most serious perpetrators.

I am not comfortable writing about sexual violence in purely analytical terms. Behind each of the 1,800 files is a person who experienced something that cannot be reduced to a legal category. The clinical language of war crimes documentation is necessary — but it should not insulate the reader from what it describes. These are human beings. What was done to them was done by human beings who made choices. Those choices deserve to be judged.

34 investigations in Germany, 82 in Poland

In the absence of ICC capacity to prosecute the full scope of documented crimes, universal jurisdiction — the principle that certain crimes can be prosecuted in any country regardless of where they occurred — has become an important supplementary mechanism. Germany leads among Western nations with 34 active investigations and 4 convictions. Poland has 82 investigations and 2 convictions. Lithuania has 12 investigations and 1 conviction. Sweden, France, Netherlands, and others have opened proceedings as well.

These numbers are meaningful but modest against the scale of documented crimes. Universal jurisdiction cases tend to be prosecuted against lower-level perpetrators — individual soldiers or officers who traveled to a jurisdiction after the crimes, or whose identity could be established through documented evidence. The big fish — generals, ministers, Kremlin officials — remain protected by their continued presence in Russia and Russia's refusal to surrender its citizens.

The ICTY and ICTR precedents: what post-conflict prosecution looks like

The International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) and the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR) provide the most instructive precedents for what post-conflict accountability can achieve. The ICTY eventually secured the arrest and conviction of Ratko Mladić and Radovan Karadžić — figures who operated freely for years before political conditions changed and they were surrendered or captured. The ICTR achieved convictions in the hundreds, including of senior government figures.

The lesson from those tribunals is that accountability often takes longer than justice demands but arrives more completely than cynics predict. The political conditions that protect war criminals can change. Governments fall. Allies defect. Informants emerge. Documentation that sits in archives for a decade becomes trial evidence when the moment arrives. The work being done now by Ukraine's prosecutors, by ICC investigators, by Yale researchers — it is building cases that will matter when the moment comes.

Mladić and Karadžić were free for years. Years during which survivors of Srebrenica and Sarajevo watched them live their lives. Then they were in a courtroom in The Hague. I hold onto that precedent every time I feel the weight of the current impunity. The arc is long. But it does bend toward accountability — if enough people keep bending it.

What the ICC cannot do — and what a special tribunal would

The ICC's jurisdiction over the crime of aggression — the act of launching an illegal war against another state — is limited by the structure of the Rome Statute. Specifically, the ICC can only prosecute the crime of aggression when both the aggressor state and the victim state are ICC members, or when the Security Council refers the situation to the court. Russia is not an ICC member. China holds a veto in the Security Council. This creates a legal gap: the most fundamental crime of all — starting the war — cannot be prosecuted at the ICC as currently constituted.

To fill this gap, Ukraine and its allies have been negotiating since 2022 the creation of a Special Tribunal for the Crime of Aggression against Ukraine. This court would be specifically established by international treaty to prosecute the act of launching the war itself — a crime that, by definition, reaches the very top of the Russian command structure. It would be the only mechanism capable of trying Putin for the original crime from which all subsequent atrocities flow.

The negotiations: where they stand in June 2026

As of June 2026, negotiations over the special tribunal's structure, jurisdiction, and hosting arrangements continued among a coalition of Ukraine-supporting states. Key outstanding questions include: which court model to follow (hybrid international-national court vs. fully international), where to seat the tribunal, and how to ensure sufficient international participation to give the court the legitimacy to resist accusations of victor's justice. More than 40 states have expressed support for the tribunal's creation.

The European Union has formally backed the special tribunal's establishment. The political momentum exists. What has slowed progress is the structural complexity of establishing a new international court from scratch — a process that involves treaty drafting, ratification, staffing, and logistical preparation that takes years even under the best conditions. Ukraine's allies are operating under pressure to move faster than the normal pace of international legal institution-building.

We want to try the man who started the war. But the court that would do so does not exist yet, because creating it requires treaties that require ratifications that require political will across dozens of governments with competing priorities. Meanwhile, Putin gives speeches and attends summits. The urgency of Ukrainian survivors and the pace of international legal process exist in entirely different time zones.

The Nobel laureate's warning

Oleksandra Matviichuk, winner of the 2022 Nobel Peace Prize and director of the Center for Civil Liberties in Kyiv, has consistently warned about what she calls the "impunity void" — the gap between the scale of documented crimes and the capacity of international justice systems to respond to them. Her organization has documented thousands of individual cases, building evidence files that will outlast the current political moment and serve future prosecution efforts.

Matviichuk's central argument is that impunity is not passive — it is itself a form of encouragement. When perpetrators observe that the crimes they commit generate no legal consequences, they continue and expand those crimes. The 68,900 war crimes registered in the past year did not happen in a vacuum — they happened in the context of four years of effective impunity for Russian forces at every level of the command chain.

Civil society documentation as the foundation of future justice

Matviichuk and her colleagues at the Center for Civil Liberties are part of a broader ecosystem of Ukrainian and international civil society organizations documenting crimes in real time. Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International, Truth Hounds, iWitness Ukraine — these organizations are building the evidential architecture that future trials will depend on. They work in conditions of active conflict, with security risks and evidentiary challenges that no peacetime prosecutor faces.

This documentation work is unglamorous, technically demanding, and critically important. The legal cases that will eventually hold Russian commanders to account will be built from the testimony and evidence these organizations are collecting today, under fire, with limited funding, and with no immediate judicial audience to deliver it to. They are writing the prosecution files for a trial that has not yet begun.

Matviichuk said the impunity void encourages further crimes. I believe her. I also believe something more specific: the perpetrators know exactly what they are doing when they bomb civilian infrastructure or deport children. They have calculated that the international system will not stop them quickly enough to matter. Proving them wrong is the work of a generation.

Investigating teams, shared intelligence, trained prosecutors

Since 2022, the ICC and Ukraine have developed an operational relationship that is unprecedented in the court's history. The ICC has deployed investigation teams to Ukraine — working alongside Ukrainian prosecutors, collecting evidence, interviewing witnesses, and preserving materials that meet the court's strict evidentiary standards. European Union member states have contributed funding, personnel, and intelligence sharing to this effort.

Ukraine has also invested heavily in training its own prosecutors in ICC documentation standards — ensuring that evidence collected by Ukrainian law enforcement is preserved in a form that will be admissible in international proceedings. This capacity-building is one of the most important long-term investments in accountability being made, even if it generates no immediate verdicts.

The database of cases: a legal arsenal for the future

The cumulative database of documented war crimes cases being assembled by Ukrainian prosecutors, ICC investigators, and civil society organizations now represents the most extensive collection of real-time war crime evidence since the Nuremberg trials. No war in history has been documented as thoroughly, in real time, with this combination of satellite imagery, mobile phone footage, witness testimony, forensic evidence, and signals intelligence.

This documentation will matter when the political conditions for prosecution improve. And those conditions will improve — not because optimism demands it, but because the precedents of Nuremberg, The Hague, and Arusha demonstrate that international accountability, however slow, is not impossible. The database being built today is the foundation of the accountability that tomorrow must deliver.

The most extensive real-time war crime documentation in history. Satellite images of mass graves before they are disguised. Intercepted communications ordering strikes on civilian targets. Survivor testimony collected within days of the events. This is what accountability infrastructure looks like when built under fire. It deserves to be honored — and funded.

The challenges of in absentia prosecution

Of the 258 cases Ukraine referred to its courts in the past year, 97 produced guilty verdicts. The vast majority of these were in absentia proceedings — trials conducted without the physical presence of the accused. Under Ukrainian law, in absentia prosecution is permitted in wartime conditions, and it serves important purposes: it establishes legal findings of guilt, creates permanent records, and signals that Ukraine intends to hold perpetrators accountable regardless of their current location.

But in absentia verdicts face practical limitations. They cannot be executed unless and until the convicted person enters a jurisdiction willing to arrest and extradite them. They carry no immediate consequence for the individuals convicted. And they depend on eventual political changes — a Russian government willing to surrender its citizens, a peace settlement that includes accountability provisions — that remain entirely hypothetical in June 2026.

The prosecution bottleneck: evidence, security, access

Ukrainian prosecutors face obstacles that no peacetime judicial system encounters. Accessing crime scenes in occupied territory is impossible. Witnesses are scattered across multiple countries in displacement. Physical evidence is in areas that remain under Russian control. Digital evidence — often the most abundant form — requires technical capacity and legal frameworks that are still being developed. The prosecutorial output of 97 convictions in a year of 68,900 documented war crimes is not a failure of will — it is a measure of structural impossibility.

Scaling up that output requires more than Ukrainian effort alone. It requires sustained international financial and technical support — for prosecutors, for forensic teams, for digital evidence processing, for witness protection programs, for the legal frameworks that govern cross-border evidence collection and interstate judicial cooperation. Every week of delay in that support is a week during which evidence degrades, witnesses disperse further, and perpetrators remain at liberty.

97 convictions from 68,900 documented war crimes. I want to be honest: I do not know what the right number should be. No accountability system in any war, ever, has prosecuted more than a fraction of the documented crimes. What I know is that 97 is far less than what the scale of atrocity demands, and that the gap can be partially but meaningfully reduced with more resources and more political will.

The EU's commitment and the funding gap

The European Union has provided substantial support to Ukraine's war crimes prosecution effort — including direct funding to the ICC investigation, bilateral support to Ukraine's Prosecutor General's office, and contributions through EU instruments for rule-of-law development. But the scale of the accountability challenge dwarfs current funding levels. The ICC operates on a budget of approximately €200 million per year for all its global operations — a figure that has not been meaningfully expanded despite the historic scale of the Ukrainian situation.

Individual member states have supplemented this with bilateral contributions. But war crimes documentation, forensic evidence processing, witness protection, and prosecution preparation for potentially thousands of cases requires sustainable, predictable, multi-year funding at a scale that ad hoc contributions cannot provide. Building accountability infrastructure in real time, during an active war, without guaranteed funding, is an impossible undertaking made necessary by intolerable circumstances.

Russia's frozen assets and the accountability question

One potential source of funding for Ukrainian accountability mechanisms is the approximately €300 billion in frozen Russian sovereign assets held in Western financial institutions — primarily through Euroclear in Belgium. Discussions about using these assets — or the interest they generate — to fund Ukraine's reconstruction and accountability mechanisms have advanced significantly since 2022. The G7 committed $50 billion backed by the interest from frozen assets in 2024.

The principle that Russia's assets could fund the justice system documenting Russia's crimes is legally complex but morally compelling. Making the aggressor finance the accountability infrastructure that will ultimately judge its actions has a symmetry that international law should be able to support. The practical and legal obstacles to doing so remain significant but not insurmountable.

300 billion euros sitting in Belgian accounts. Interest accruing every day. Russia's money, frozen because Russia committed crimes. Using some of that money to document those crimes and prepare to prosecute them — I understand the legal complexities. But the moral logic seems clear to me.

Why impunity cannot be the price of peace

Some voices in Western foreign policy circles have suggested that accountability demands should be made flexible in the context of eventual peace negotiations — that insisting on prosecution of Russian leaders might make a negotiated settlement harder to achieve. This argument deserves to be examined and rejected. A peace that guarantees impunity for the perpetrators of 68,900 documented war crimes is not a just peace — it is a settlement that licenses future atrocity.

The historical record supports this conclusion. The failure to prosecute the architects of World War I contributed to the conditions for World War II. The partial accountability of Nuremberg, imperfect as it was, established a deterrent principle that — however imperfectly enforced — changed the calculus of state behavior. Accountability is not the enemy of peace. Impunity is the enemy of durable peace.

Ukraine's position: accountability before normalization

Ukraine has been consistent on this point: accountability is a non-negotiable element of any peace framework. President Zelensky's ten-point peace formula includes accountability as one of its pillars — specifically, the establishment of a special tribunal for aggression and the prosecution of war crimes. This position reflects both moral conviction and strategic calculation: a Ukraine that accepts impunity for the crimes committed against it will face the same crimes again, committed by the same state, in the same spirit of calculated impunity.

The international community's support for accountability is therefore not separable from its support for Ukraine. A security guarantee without accountability is a guarantee that the criminal enterprise that launched this war can resume it, at scale, at a time of its choosing, against a Ukraine that has been taught the lesson that endurance earns impunity for its tormentors.

Peace without accountability is not peace — it is a pause. I know that sounds like an absolutist position. But I also know the history: the wars that ended with comprehensive impunity for the aggressors produced the conditions for the next war. Ukraine is asking for something reasonable: that the people who committed documented crimes be judged. That is not a maximalist demand. That is the minimum that justice requires.

Judiciary functioning in a war zone

Ukraine's judicial system has maintained functioning operations throughout the war — a remarkable achievement given the physical destruction of court buildings in contested regions, the displacement of judges and court personnel, and the security challenges of operating in a country under active aerial bombardment. Courts have held sessions in bomb shelters. Judges have issued rulings while air raid sirens sounded. Prosecutors have filed briefs from temporary offices in cities far from their home jurisdictions.

This institutional resilience is significant beyond its symbolic value. It means that the 258 cases referred to Ukrainian courts in the past year were actually heard — not deferred, not abandoned, not suspended pending peace. Ukraine's commitment to the rule of law even under the most extreme pressure is a statement about the kind of country it is and the kind of country it intends to be.

The Verkhovna Rada's legal reform record

The accountability and justice framework depends not only on courts but on the legislation that governs them. Ukraine's parliament — the Verkhovna Rada — has passed a series of laws during the war that strengthen the legal basis for war crimes prosecution, improve the framework for international judicial cooperation, and bring Ukrainian legal standards into alignment with ICC requirements. These legislative achievements, made under the same air raid conditions as the court proceedings themselves, demonstrate that Ukraine's democratic institutions are not merely surviving — they are developing.

International partners monitoring Ukraine's reform progress for EU accession purposes have noted the judiciary's performance as one of the areas of genuine progress. Building the institutional capacity for justice during a war is hard. Ukraine is doing it anyway.

A judge issuing a war crimes ruling from a bomb shelter. I find that image simultaneously heartbreaking and inspiring. Heartbreaking because it should not be necessary. Inspiring because it demonstrates something about Ukraine's character that no amount of Western commentary can fully capture: this is a country that insists on civilization even when civilization is under siege.

The accountability deficit in hard numbers

The gap between 68,900 documented war crimes and 97 convictions can be expressed in multiple ways, and each expression reveals something different. It is a gap of 99.86 percent — of every thousand documented war crimes in the past year, roughly 1.4 have produced convictions. It is a gap measured in years: at the current rate, prosecuting the existing caseload would take centuries. It is a gap measured in human experience: every victim of a documented war crime for which there is no conviction is a person whose experience the justice system has acknowledged but not addressed.

These are not arguments for despair. They are arguments for urgency. The gap exists because the problem is structurally different from anything the international justice system was designed to handle — in scale, in pace, in geopolitical complexity. Closing it requires expanding the system's capacity at a rate proportionate to the scale of the crimes.

Five specific things the international community should do

The accountability deficit does not resolve itself. Addressing it requires action on at least five fronts: first, finalize and establish the Special Tribunal for Aggression with sufficient international participation to guarantee its legitimacy. Second, significantly expand ICC investigation funding for the Ukraine situation — tripling or quadrupling current levels. Third, provide sustained technical support to Ukraine's Prosecutor General's office for evidence collection, processing, and prosecution preparation. Fourth, accelerate universal jurisdiction proceedings in European countries that have opened investigations. Fifth, ensure that any peace negotiation framework explicitly preserves accountability mechanisms — ruling out any amnesty for documented war crimes as a condition of settlement.

None of these actions are impossible. None require waiting for the war to end. All of them can be advanced in parallel with military and diplomatic support to Ukraine. The question is political will — and political will responds to public pressure from informed citizens who understand what is at stake.

Five things. None of them requiring a technological breakthrough. None requiring a change in international law that does not already exist. All of them requiring governments to prioritize accountability as seriously as they prioritize financial support. I am not naive about how difficult that is politically. I am convinced it is necessary morally.

The precedent this war sets for international justice

The war in Ukraine is not only a military and humanitarian crisis — it is a test of the international justice system built after the Holocaust, codified at Nuremberg, institutionalized in The Hague. That system was constructed on the premise that states could be held to account for their treatment of civilians and prisoners of war. It was never designed to function in real time, during an active war, against a permanent member of the UN Security Council. Russia's actions have exposed the system's limits in a way that future legal scholars will study for generations.

How the international community responds — whether it finds the resources, the political will, and the creative legal architecture to make accountability happen despite those limits — will define what the Nuremberg system means in the twenty-first century. The 97 convictions are a beginning. The 68,900 registered crimes are a demand. The gap between them is a challenge to international civilization that cannot go unanswered.

Kravchenko's words and their weight

When Prosecutor General Kravchenko said the results were "not enough," he was speaking in the measured language of a lawyer. But behind those words is a reality that no measure of legal precision can fully contain: thousands of Ukrainian civilians whose deaths remain unprosecuted, thousands of prisoners whose torture is documented but unaddressed, tens of thousands of children deported and unreturned, and families across Ukraine who have learned that the world's justice systems, for all their procedures and warrants and investigations, have not yet found a way to deliver what they need.

Not enough. Two words. The most honest assessment of where international accountability stands in June 2026. And the most urgent call for action that the evidence of this war demands.

Kravchenko said the results are not enough. He is the chief prosecutor of a country that has documented 68,900 war crimes and secured 97 convictions. I do not think he said those words lightly. I think he said them because they are true, because the people he represents need to hear them from someone in authority, and because "not enough" is the beginning of a demand for more. I add my voice to that demand.

Accountability is not separate from the war — it is part of it

It would be a mistake to treat war crimes accountability as a post-war question — something to be addressed after a ceasefire, after reconstruction, after the smoke clears. Accountability is part of the war itself. Every time an ICC warrant is issued, every time a war crimes conviction is secured, every time a deported child is returned, Ukraine asserts its dignity as a sovereign state that will not accept the erasure of its people or the impunity of its tormentors.

The prosecutors building cases under bombardment, the civil society activists documenting crimes in real time, the diplomats negotiating the special tribunal's establishment — they are all fighting the same war as the soldiers on the front line. They are fighting for the principle that what Russia has done will not be erased, will not be normalized, and will not go unanswered by the full weight of international law.

The obligation of those who are watching

For those of us in countries not currently at war — who read these numbers from the safety of peacetime — the 68,900 war crimes registered in a single year carry an obligation. Not the obligation to pretend that justice is moving as fast as the crimes accumulate. But the obligation to demand that our governments invest in accountability infrastructure, support the Special Tribunal, fund the ICC's Ukraine investigation, and refuse any peace framework that trades justice for the convenience of a negotiated settlement. Ninety-seven convictions from 68,900 documented war crimes is not enough. It is our job to make it more.

68,900 war crimes. 97 convictions. I have been sitting with these numbers throughout this editorial, and I keep arriving at the same place: the gap is too large to be accepted as an outcome. It can only be accepted as a starting point. The question for every government, every institution, every citizen who has followed this war is: what are you doing to close that gap? I am asking it of myself. I am asking it of you.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist

Editorial stance

I am not a journalist but a columnist and analyst. My expertise lies in observing and analysing the geopolitical, economic and strategic dynamics that shape our world. My work is to take political strategies apart, to understand global economic movements, to put the decisions of international actors in context and to offer analytical perspectives on the changes that are redefining our societies.

I do not claim the cold objectivity of traditional journalism, which stops at reporting facts. I claim analytical clarity, rigorous interpretation and a deep understanding of the complex issues that concern us all. My role is to give meaning to the facts, to place them in their historical and strategic context, and to offer a critical reading of events.

Method and sources

This text keeps the basic distinction between verified facts and interpretive analysis. The rule never changes: a factual claim is published only when a verifiable source supports it, and the sources this article actually used are listed under Sources, never here.

Primary source families used by the publication, when the story has them: official statements from governments and international institutions, public statements by political leaders, reports from intergovernmental organisations, dispatches from recognised international news agencies.

Secondary source families: specialised publications, internationally recognised news media, analyses from established research institutions, reports from industry organisations.

When an article cites statistical, economic or geopolitical data, it comes from the institutions that produce it (intergovernmental organisations, central banks, national statistics offices), and the exact institution is named under Sources.

Nature of the analysis

The analyses, interpretations and perspectives in the analytical sections of this article are a critical, contextual synthesis based on the information available, the trends observed and the expert comments cited in the sources consulted.

My role is to interpret these facts, to set them in the context of today's geopolitical and economic dynamics, and to give them a coherent meaning within the larger story of the changes shaping our time. These analyses reflect expertise built through continuous observation of international affairs and an understanding of the strategic mechanisms that drive global actors.

This article describes a documented state of affairs on its publication date, not a prediction: later developments may shift its outlook. No update is promised in advance; when an article is corrected or completed, the change is dated in the text.