Once cameras are rolling before guilt is proven, the trial becomes theater
For the first time in sixty-four years, Israel has reconstituted the power to execute — creating a special military tribunal to try those accused of the October 7, 2023 Hamas attack that killed at least 1,200 people. The Knesset voted 93 to zero, a unanimity that speaks to the depth of national grief and the political weight of accountability. Yet the architecture of the court — military in setting, livestreamed for the world, empowered to condemn by majority vote — raises the oldest question in jurisprudence: whether justice performed for an audience remains justice at all. The proceedings will unfold against a backdrop of parallel international investigations into Israeli conduct, making this moment less a resolution than a new chapter in a long argument about who gets to judge, and by what rules.
- Israel has not executed anyone since Adolf Eichmann in 1962, and the Knesset's 93-0 vote to revive that power signals a society that feels the ordinary machinery of law is insufficient for the scale of what happened on October 7.
- Approximately 300 alleged attackers have been held since the assault, and the new tribunal — military, separate from the regular appeals system, empowered to convict by majority rather than unanimity — is already drawing warnings that its structure favors spectacle over safeguard.
- International law experts and Israeli human rights organizations are raising urgent questions about how evidence was gathered, whether confessions were coerced, and whether a court designed for a specific political moment can deliver verdicts the world will recognize as legitimate.
- The deliberate echo of the Eichmann trial — livestreamed, historically framed, carried out in Jerusalem — cuts both ways: it invokes a moment of genuine accountability and a warning about the line between historic reckoning and theater.
- The tribunal will operate while the ICC investigates Israeli conduct in Gaza and the ICJ hears a genocide case brought by South Africa, meaning Israel will simultaneously prosecute and be prosecuted — a symmetry that neither side is willing to acknowledge as such.
On a Tuesday morning in May, Israel's parliament voted 93 to nothing to create something the country had not done in sixty-four years: a tribunal empowered to sentence people to death. The court will try Palestinians accused of participating in the October 7, 2023 attack — the assault that killed at least 1,200 people and ignited the war in Gaza. About 300 alleged attackers have been held in Israeli custody since that day. Under the new law, they can be charged under Israel's 1950 genocide prevention statute, which carries capital punishment. A panel of judges will decide guilt by majority vote, and appeals will go not to the regular court system but to a special body created solely for this purpose. The trials will be livestreamed from Jerusalem.
The comparison that shadows the legislation is deliberate. In 1962, Israel tried Adolf Eichmann in a civilian courtroom, broadcast live — the last time the country carried out an execution. Some in the current coalition government draw an explicit line between that reckoning and this one, framing Hamas as a generational equivalent of Nazi perpetrators. But the parallel unsettles legal scholars. An international law expert at Yale has warned that trials framed as historic accountability can become politicized spectacles — proceedings designed to perform justice rather than deliver it. The livestreaming requirement and majority-vote death sentence rule sharpen that concern: once cameras are rolling before guilt is established, the courtroom risks becoming theater.
Israeli human rights organizations have acknowledged the legitimacy of seeking justice for October 7 victims while arguing that accountability must not abandon the principles that make justice real — due process, reliable evidence, fair appeal. Questions remain about how evidence was obtained and whether confessions can be trusted. A Hamas spokesperson called the tribunal a cover for Israeli war crimes in Gaza, a statement that reflects the deep asymmetry of how each side frames the question of accountability.
The international legal landscape adds further complexity. The ICC is investigating Israeli conduct in Gaza and has issued arrest warrants for Prime Minister Netanyahu and a former defence minister. The ICJ is hearing a genocide case brought by South Africa. Israel rejects both proceedings as politically motivated. What emerges is a world in which Israel will simultaneously prosecute and be prosecuted — parallel tracks that neither side is prepared to treat as equivalent. Whether the new tribunal restores faith in justice or confirms suspicions about power masquerading as law may depend less on the law itself than on how it is applied, and on whether the world watches both sets of proceedings with the same scrutiny.
On a Tuesday morning in May, Israel's parliament voted to create something the country had not done in sixty-four years: a tribunal empowered to sentence people to death. The Knesset approved the measure 93 to nothing, with 27 lawmakers absent or abstaining. The tribunal will try Palestinians accused of participating in the October 7, 2023 attack on Israel—the assault that killed at least 1,200 people, most of them civilians, and set off the war in Gaza. The trials will be livestreamed from a Jerusalem courtroom.
About 300 alleged attackers have been held in Israeli custody since that day in October. Under the new law, they can be charged under Israel's 1950 genocide prevention statute, which carries capital punishment. A panel of judges will decide guilt by majority vote. If convicted, a defendant can appeal, but only to a special appeals court created for this purpose, not to the regular appellate system. The overwhelming parliamentary support reflects deep feeling among Israel's Jewish majority about the need to punish those responsible for what many call the deadliest single attack in the nation's history.
The comparison that haunts the legislation is immediate and deliberate. In 1962, Israel tried Adolf Eichmann, the Nazi war criminal, in a civilian courtroom in Jerusalem. The trial was broadcast live on television. Eichmann was convicted and executed—the last time Israel carried out a death sentence. Some in Israel's coalition government now speak of Hamas as the "new Nazis," drawing a line between that historical reckoning and this one. But the parallel troubles legal scholars and human rights advocates.
Ya'ara Mordecai, an international law expert at Yale, has flagged concerns about due process in a military court setting. She points to the risk that trials framed as historic accountability could become politicized spectacles—"show trials" in the old sense, proceedings designed to perform justice rather than deliver it. The livestreaming requirement, combined with the majority-vote death sentence rule, intensifies that worry. Once the world is watching, once cameras are rolling before guilt is proven, the trial becomes theater as much as law.
Israeli rights organizations—HaMoked, Adalah, the Public Committee Against Torture in Israel—have acknowledged the legitimacy of seeking justice for October 7 victims. But they argue that accountability must not abandon the principles that make justice real: due process, reliable evidence, fair appeal. They have raised questions about how evidence was obtained, whether harsh interrogation methods were used, whether confessions can be trusted.
The international legal landscape complicates the picture further. The International Criminal Court is investigating Israel's conduct in Gaza and has issued arrest warrants for Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former Defence Minister Yoav Gallant. Three Hamas leaders named in those warrants have since been killed by Israel. Meanwhile, South Africa has brought a genocide case against Israel at the International Court of Justice. Israel rejects both proceedings as politically motivated, arguing its war targets Hamas, not Palestinians as a people.
A Hamas spokesperson, Hazem Qassem, called the new tribunal "a cover for the war crimes committed by Israel in Gaza." The statement reflects the deep mistrust that now frames accountability on both sides. One side sees a necessary reckoning for mass murder. The other sees a victor's justice, a way to prosecute the defeated while the victors face no equivalent scrutiny.
What happens next is uncertain. The tribunal will begin its work. Trials will be filmed and broadcast. The world will watch. Whether those proceedings restore faith in justice or confirm suspicions about power masquerading as law may depend less on the law itself than on how it is applied—and on whether the international investigations into Israeli conduct proceed in parallel, or are seen as separate, unequal tracks.
Notable Quotes
Justice for the victims of October 7 is a legitimate and urgent imperative, but any accountability must be pursued through a process which includes rather than abandons the principles of justice— Israeli rights groups including HaMoked, Adalah, and the Public Committee Against Torture in Israel
The new law serves as a cover for the war crimes committed by Israel in Gaza— Hamas spokesperson Hazem Qassem
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does Israel need a special tribunal at all? Why not use the regular courts?
The scale and nature of the attack demanded something unprecedented. Three hundred alleged attackers, all from a single coordinated operation, all facing the same charge essentially. A regular court system would be overwhelmed. But there's another reason—symbolism. The Eichmann trial was a national moment, a way of saying this crime is so grave it requires a special reckoning.
But doesn't livestreaming the trials risk turning them into theater?
That's the core worry. Once cameras are rolling before anyone is convicted, you're not just trying a case—you're performing it. The judges know the world is watching. The prosecutors know it. The defendants know it. That pressure can distort everything.
What about the evidence? How reliable is it if people were interrogated harshly?
That's the question no one can answer yet. Rights groups are saying confessions extracted under duress shouldn't be trusted. But the tribunal will have to decide what evidence to admit. If it admits everything, the trials lose credibility. If it excludes too much, victims' families feel justice is being denied.
Is this about justice or revenge?
Both, probably. Justice and revenge aren't always opposites. The question is whether the legal process can separate them—whether the tribunal can punish the guilty without becoming an instrument of the state's anger.
What does the international community think?
Deeply skeptical. The ICC is investigating Israeli conduct. The ICJ is hearing genocide allegations. So you have Israel prosecuting Palestinians for October 7 while facing its own international scrutiny. It looks unequal, even if both investigations are legitimate.
Will the death sentences actually be carried out?
No one knows. Israel hasn't executed anyone since 1962. The law exists, but using it is different. There's a reason it's been dormant for six decades.