US sanctions ICC president and senior lawyer in escalating campaign

On Tuesday, the Trump administration froze the U.S. assets of two International Criminal Court officials and barred them from the American financial system. Secretary of State Marco Rubio announced the sanctions against Tomoko Akane, a Japanese judge serving as the ICC's president, and Abdoulaye Seye, a senior trial lawyer from Senegal. The action marked another escalation in a sustained campaign by Washington against the Hague-based institution, which the U.S. has never joined but has increasingly sought to undermine.

Rubio justified the move by claiming the two individuals had "directly engaged in efforts by the ICC to investigate, arrest, detain, or prosecute officials whose government has not consented to ICC jurisdiction." The language pointed to a specific grievance: the court's pursuit of arrest warrants for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former defense minister Yoav Gallant. Seye had worked on the prosecution team seeking Netanyahu's warrant and has been nominated for election as an ICC judge. Trump himself has stated plainly that the campaign aims at defending Netanyahu and others from prosecution—a candid acknowledgment that distinguishes this from claims about protecting American interests.

The ICC, established in 2002 to prosecute war crimes, genocide, and crimes against humanity, responded with alarm. In a statement, the court said the sanctions "undermine the rule of law" and warned that "when judicial actors are threatened for applying the law, it is the international legal order itself that is placed at risk." Akane had warned in December that U.S. sanctions would "rapidly undermine the court's operations in all situations and cases, and jeopardize its very existence." The Treasury Department issued a general license allowing a wind-down period through mid-September for transactions involving the two officials.

This is not the administration's first move against the court. Last year, the U.S. imposed targeted sanctions on several ICC officials, including prosecutors and judges, citing both the Netanyahu warrants and a past investigation into American troops in Afghanistan. The sanctions freeze assets and effectively cut individuals off from the global financial system, since nearly all international banks maintain close ties to U.S. financial infrastructure. The practical effect is severe isolation.

Rubio has signaled that Washington intends to intensify the pressure. Last month, he announced plans for a diplomatic campaign aimed at persuading member states to withdraw from the ICC entirely. At least five countries have already done so in response to U.S. pressure. Rubio has also argued that the court poses a threat to U.S. personnel involved in Trump's hardline immigration enforcement and military operations against suspected drug-trafficking vessels.

The legal and political resistance has been swift. Three ICC judges sued Trump and his administration in June, arguing the sanctions were unlawful. Separate lawsuits filed by advocacy groups contend that the U.S. campaign infringes on the constitutional rights of organizations working with the court to pursue justice for atrocities. The ICC's founding statute gives it jurisdiction to prosecute crimes committed on member-state territory by nationals of non-member states—a provision that technically could apply to Americans, though the court has shown restraint in practice.

The underlying tension is structural. The U.S. has consistently resisted international courts with authority over its citizens or allies, viewing them as threats to sovereignty. But the current campaign goes further: it is not merely defensive but actively seeks to cripple an institution that operates according to law, using financial coercion to punish judges and lawyers for their work. What remains to be seen is whether other nations will resist the pressure or whether the ICC's already fragile legitimacy will erode further under sustained American assault.