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Comment on the Ecocide Question: “Should the crime of “ecocide” be added to the Rome Statute?”

Why the IEPs Draft Definition of Ecocide Cannot Work as a Core Crime

The concept of ecocide has circulated long before current efforts to amend the Rome Statute, with domestic and international circles debating it as a proposed legal tool to address human-caused extreme environmental destruction.1 Early formulations data back to the Vietnam War in response to large-scale wartime environmental harm, with images of scorched rainforests and devastated ecosystems broadcast worldwide.2 From this point, the United Nations began to discuss severe environmental damage as an international crime, though these early initiatives never crystallized into a formal legal definition.3 After decades of dormancy, Stop Ecocide International has given the cause new breath, sustained by a movement seeking to elevate ecocide to the level of genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes, and aggression.4

The renewed movement to criminalize ecocide reflects a growing consensus that extreme environmental destruction demands international accountability. The Stop Ecocide Foundation convened an Independent Expert Panel for the Legal Definition of Ecocide (IEP) and, in 2021, the IEP produced a draft definition.5 However, that definition is not workable as a matter of criminal law. It is far too vague and relies on open-textured thresholds without any type of objective boundary for many of its key terms, including: “wanton,” “severe,” “widespread,” and “long-term.” Thus, the IEP has produced a definition that is too indeterminate to satisfy the Rome Statute’s strict legality requirements. The draft fails to provide notice, foreseeability, and enforcement stability necessary for a fifth core crime of the Rome Statute. This comment argues that the definition’s vagueness issue is a structural barrier to adoption, and proposes a more disciplined framework that preserves necessary flexibility while supplying the precision that the ICC requires.

I. Background

Operation Ranch Hand was an American military campaign during the Vietnam War that defoliated about five million acres of Vietnamese land using Agent Orange; the result was international outcry and the birth of the movement to criminalize large-scale environmental destruction.6 The international community then began to discuss environmental destruction as an international crime at U.N. forums such as the 1972 Stockholm Conference.7 This momentum continued in various instances, such as the 1976 Convention on the Prohibition of Military or Any other Hostile Use of Environmental Modification Techniques (ENMOD) and the First Additional Protocol to the Geneva Conventions (API), both of which addressed large-scale environmental harm during times of war.8 Article 8(2)(b)(iv) of the Rome Statute criminalized “widespread, long-term, and severe” environmental harm in armed conflict.9 What remained missing in the wake of efforts to criminalize large-scale environmental harm on an international level, however, was scrutiny on the infliction of environmental harm in times of peace.

Stop Ecocide International has led the push to criminalize ecocide in recent years.10 The organization set its goal to create a definition of ecocide that would be legally and politically workable, prioritizing criminalizing behavior during peacetime, for adoption as a fifth core crime under the Rome Statute; twelve international law lawyers with diverse disciplinary backgrounds came together as the IEP to do so.11 Over the course of several months, the IEP produced a draft definition that states:

For the purpose of this Statute, “ecocide” means unlawful or wanton acts committed with knowledge that there is a substantial likelihood of severe and either widespread or long-term damage to the environment being caused by those acts.12

This definition is accompanied by sub-definitions of each threshold term, which I examine in greater detail in Section II.

While not its explicit goal, the IEP structured its definition around the goal of maximizing political feasibility instead of legal clarity. They explain that they had a pragmatic approach, in which they selected language that would appear familiar to States Parties and remain within the boundaries of concepts already used in international law.13 This resulted in the avoidance of scientific formulations and technical thresholds.14 The IEP also rejected an enumerated list of underlying acts.15 The IEP concedes that while such a list could have provided clearer guidance, they feared it would be under-inclusive and inevitably imply that whatever environmentally destructive conduct not listed was permissible.16 The IEP viewed the flexible and inclusive definition to be more palatable to States Parties, but the reality is the definition is plagued by vagueness.

II. Vagueness Flaws within the IEP’s Ecocide Definition

The IEP’s ecocide definition17 depends almost entirely on qualitative descriptors that lack objective boundaries. The result is that each threshold relies on concepts that invite wide interpretive discretion and require prosecutors and judges to make precise analyses regarding scientific conditions, complex environmental impact, and socio-economic tradeoffs.18 These terms function as the core limits of criminal liability, yet the IEP confirms that none of them is quantitatively defined and all depend on context-specific assessments using “best available science” on a case-by-case basis.19 This commitment to flexibility manifests most clearly in the ambiguity that surrounds terms like wanton, severe, widespread, and long-term.

Walking through this analysis with a real-world example highlights the vagueness issue that is pervasive in the IEP’s definition of ecocide. The Nam Theun 2 Hydropower Project in Laos (NT2) was constructed in 2010 and created a 1070-megawatt hydropower station.20 At the time of construction, NT2 represented 42% of the entire country’s electricity generation capacity.21 The project was said to be accompanied by a reduction in the poverty rate, a resettlement of a rural population on the Nakai Plateau to modernized living situations, and a campaign to protect local vulnerable species by stakeholders; the reality is that these advances are overstated and the impact of NT2 has been negative when viewing the situation through an ecocide lens.22 The construction of the dam led to the forced displacement of over six thousand indigenous residents and inundation of forests; long-term ecological disruption, including the loss of forest land, decline in aquatic biodiversity, and water-quality degradation also followed.23 NT2 shows how even a heavily researched, deeply disruptive project can reasonably fall on either side of each threshold, demonstrating the instability of a definition that provides no objective way to draw the line.

A. “Wanton”

The IEP defines wanton as:

[R]eckless disregard for damage which would be clearly excessive in relation to the social and economic benefits anticipated.24

A central problem with the definition is that there is no baseline for determining when environmental damage becomes “clearly excessive in relation to the social and economic benefits anticipated,” as there is no guideline as to whether the cost-benefit analysis should be financial, ecological, social, or a hybrid of the three.25 When applying this analysis to NT2, some questions arise: Excessive in relation to what? National electrification goals?26 The long-term survival of the river ecosystem the dam would destroy?27 The populations displaced by development?28 Without providing some guideline on how to prioritize certain comparison points, the proportionality inquiry loses all bounds, and two prosecutors could reach entirely different conclusions regarding the same inquiry.

Furthermore, the uncertainty surrounding “social and economic benefits” only worsens when considering the different viewpoints and goals of countries in the Global North and countries in the Global South. The IEP does explicitly note that they approached this very portion of the definition sensitively towards Global South development concerns.29 It is no question that they are aware of and sympathize with the fact that some environmentally harmful projects may deliver substantial infrastructure benefits in less-industrialized states.30 But the same question remains: Whose benefits matter more? A national government seeking industrialization may evaluate benefits differently from a local community facing displacement, a corporation pursuing investment returns, or the broader public that bears long-term ecological loss—all of these are situations that have occurred along with the construction of NT2.31 This distributive problem is foundational; decisions about benefit often reflect power asymmetries rather than shared interests, making it unclear whose perspective the proportionality test is meant to reflect.32 Under the IEP’s formulation, NT2 could be treated as wanton in one jurisdiction and permissible in another. While not the goal, the wanton element can expose the Global South to greater scrutiny because large, environmentally invasive projects are completed at a greater rate by industrializing countries, which is precisely where the balancing test comes in.

A proportionality test is not new to the Rome Statute. Article 8(2)(b)(iv) already requires weighing environmental harm against “concrete and direct overall military advantage.”33 While a proportionality test regardless of its variables does invite some ambiguity and vagueness, the concept of military advantage has been well defined in international humanitarian law and is substantially more determinate than other forms of justification.34 Article 8(2)(b)(iv) only applies to individuals engaging in war, whether that be combatants, commanders, or decision-makers—a much more limited group compared to the crime of ecocide. Furthermore, environmental harm in armed conflict is usually tied to discrete and attributable attacks, making the proportionality assessment more concrete. For example, in the 1991 Gulf War, retreating Iraqi forces intentionally set fire to hundreds of Kuwaiti oil wells.35 This produced massive atmospheric pollution clearly identifiable as the result of a single military operation, making weighing the direct military advantage against the environmental harm more workable.36

By contrast, the IEP’s use of proportionality in the ecocide definition operates in peacetime and asks decision-makers to assess malleable and subjective “social and economic benefits,” meaning the structural features that make proportionality workable in armed conflict, like discrete attacks and identifiable decision makers, do not apply.37 As a result, the IEP’s proportionality test is far more indeterminate and unstable.

B. “Severe”

The IEP defines severe as:

[D]amage which involves very serious adverse changes, disruption or harm to any element of the environment, including grave impacts on human life or natural, cultural or economic resources.38

What does “very serious” mean under the IEP’s definition of severe? The IEP offers no objective metric or baseline, which could have included the number of species extinguished or affected, the amount of greenhouse gas emissions released, the percentage of population displaced, and countless more.39 Instead, it uses broad and open-ended terminology such as “very serious” and “any element to the environment.”40 Who gets to decide when damage crosses from significant to very serious? Scientists? Judges? Local communities? The Prosecutor? The IEP suggests that the “best available science” should inform this determination, but the meaning of scientific severity itself shifts across disciplines, locales, and through time.41

Consider the NT2 situation. The dam floods a river valley and clears a wide swath of forest and displaces the small upstream, indigenous community.42 Would the depletion of a small forest, potentially ruining a local ecosystem for decades, count as “very serious”? Or would the loss of the small community’s ancestral lands? Different evaluators could arrive at entirely different answers.

The breadth of the phrase “any element of the environment” further compounds the uncertainty built into the definition of severe.43 By its terms, the provision sweeps in everything from microbial life to deep sea ecosystems to atmospheric processes, and even outer space.44 This universal scope means that severity would be assessed across environmental contexts that radically differ in scale, function, and scientific measurability. In the NT2 situation, the ICC would be forced to decide whether the alteration of fish stocks,45 significant changes to the river’s characteristics,46 or the displacement of a small community47 should matter most for determining severity. Prosecutors and judges could correctly elevate entirely different ecological or social impacts when evaluating the same project, creating uncertainty in what harms are acceptable when developers conduct risk assessments.

C. “Widespread”

The IEP defines widespread as:

[D]amage which extends beyond a limited geographic area, crosses state boundaries, or is suffered by an entire ecosystem or species or a large number of human beings.48

The issue with the IEP’s definition of widespread lies mainly in its first alternative, “beyond a limited geographic area,” partly because its open phrasing could allow even modest geographic impacts to qualify.49 The deeper issue is that without any metric for what counts as a limited area or a large number of people, the definition provides no coherent or principled boundary for prosecutors or judges to apply. The elasticity of the standard creates a risk of inconsistent charging decisions: the same magnitude of harm could be treated as widespread in a small island state but not in a geographically large state, purely by virtue of differing scales instead of any principled legal distinction.

The IEP avoided numerical thresholds deliberately because of past iterations’ attempts at using any quantifiable criteria when describing the term widespread.50 Both ENMOD and API define their focused geographical scope as several hundred square kilometers and thousands of square kilometers, respectively.51 As such, both were criticized for being under-inclusive and inapplicable as environmental science advanced.52 The IEP desired to do away with the restrictions and use their current formula for the term widespread. Unfortunately, without any measurement anchor, coupled with the lack of underlying acts to form a reference, the threshold would become more difficult to apply.

A further conceptual difficulty is that the term widespread gestures toward a scale of harm that justifies elevating conduct to the level of an international crime, yet the definition never explains what makes environmental damage internationally significant rather than merely serious at the domestic level.53 International crimes traditionally derive their legitimacy from interests so substantial that they implicate the global community.54 But under the IEP’s formulation, even damage confined entirely within one state could be labeled widespread without any requirement that the harm transcend borders, disrupt regional ecological systems, or otherwise rise to a level of international concern. The IEP’s definition blurs the line between serious national environmental harm and conduct that truly warrants international criminalization by leaving this connection unstated.

The situation caused by NT2’s construction again illustrates this instability. NT2 caused riverbank erosion far from the dam itself at the Boua Khai, Nasong, and Dan Pak Xe villages.55 Furthermore, it has altered migratory patterns of aquatic species, which affects local river-dependent communities’ sources of food and can have implications spanning hundreds of kilometers.56 But the IEP’s definition of widespread makes one pause and consider how far these effects must travel before they are enough for criminal investigation. If NT2’s impacts were confined to one river valley but reshape the local ecology, would that be enough? The widespread threshold risks becoming a discretionary judgment tool instead of a solid legal standard, which would produce inconsistent outcomes.

D. “Long-Term”

The IEP defines long-term as:

[D]amage which is irreversible or which cannot be redressed through natural recovery within a reasonable period of time.57

The IEP’s definition of long-term once again departs from prior international instruments but does not replace their quantitative guidance with any objective metric. ENMOD interpreted long-lasting to mean “several months or a season,” while API treated long-term as environmental harm persisting for “decades.”58 The IEP rejects these approaches as either too short or too long.59 However, prosecutors and judges have no temporal baselines or examples of underlying acts they can use to determine when exactly ecological harms rises to the level of ecocide.

The central question becomes how decision-makers decide what makes a period of time “reasonable,” as different organisms and natural processes can recover from damage and disruption on dramatically different timescales. As discussed, NT2 has destroyed swaths of forests and altered migration routes, which could take decades and years, respectively, to correct.60 Under the IEP’s formulation, the Prosecutor has no principled way to decide which of these recovery scales should matter. Should long-term turn on the slowest ecological process, as the damage would last longer; or the fastest, in which the recovery is more observable to litigate? The assessment becomes highly dependent on which temporal baseline the evaluator happens to prioritize.

The IEP’s alternative threshold of “irreversible damage” raises a different set of problems. Very little in the natural world is truly irreversible in a scientific sense; ecological systems may recover only over centuries but technically remain capable of recovery.61 If “irreversible” is interpreted narrowly, few cases will satisfy it; if it’s interpreted functionally, as in effectively irreversible within human timescales, the term becomes indistinguishable from the undefined “reasonable period of time” standard. The IEP allows prosecution without waiting for any recovery period to manifest, meaning that “long-term” harm must be inferred prospectively through predictive ecological modeling.62 This sort of modeling magnifies scientific uncertainty and places significant weight on expert judgment in an area where natural recovery trajectories are inherently contested.

The IEP’s use of these threshold terms, “wanton,” “severe,” “widespread,” and “long-term,” transforms their definition of ecocide to one that is far too flexible and vague, functioning only based on varying scientific assumptions and the evaluator’s own value judgments. NT2 shows that even a well-documented and deeply disruptive project can fall on either side of every threshold, depending on who is applying them and how. This is the structural flaw of the IEP’s approach, leading to questions about legality, notice, consistency, and selective enforcement that must be addressed prior to the IEP’s definition becoming an addition to the Rome Statute.

III. The IEP’s Definition in Comparative Perspective

A clearer picture of the IEP’s drafting choices emerges when they are placed alongside existing approaches to defining international crimes, as well as the domestic ecocide statutes that predate the IEP’s work. The crimes already included in the Rome Statute are just as complex as ecocide but have far greater specificity; this is seen through the enumeration of underlying acts and attachment of various contextual thresholds.63 Domestic ecocide statutes follow the IEP’s vague formulations, leading to the lack of any real enforcement on a national level.64 These comparisons highlight that the IEP’s vague approach to ecocide is a sharp departure from international criminal law drafting traditions, and raise questions regarding its workability at the ICC.

A central way that the Rome Statute achieves determinacy is by enumerating underlying acts and then attaching contextual elements. This structure is used for crimes against humanity and war crimes, creating foreseeability about what conduct may trigger liability.65 When comparing the IEP’s definition of ecocide, its open-textured approach stands in sharp contrast to the Rome Statute’s current format. The ecocide definition contains no list of prohibited facts, leaving the crime defined only by the threshold adjectives described above.66 This choice only expands discretion by removing the anchor of defined underlying acts, and causes the IEP’s definition to be far too ambiguous.

Domestic ecocide provisions in countries such as Armenia, Ukraine, Belarus, Kazakhstan, and Georgia show a similar preference for open-textured formulations that do not rely on clearly delimited conduct.67 These codes typically criminalize “mass destruction of flora or fauna” or “pollution of the atmosphere, land or water resources” combined with “other acts” that have caused or are capable of causing an “ecological catastrophe” or “environmental disaster,” without specifying how likely the catastrophe must be or what kinds of projects fall within the category.68 In practice, these provisions gesture toward very high levels of harm but leave both the underlying conduct and the required risk level largely undefined, which mirrors the IEP’s preference for broad harm terms and a proportionality test instead of numerically anchored thresholds.69 The fact that there appear to be no reported convictions under any domestic ecocide offense suggests that such vagueness may undermine their practical enforceability, regardless of their expressive ambition.70

The Rome Statute has built-in protections against crimes defined too vaguely. Article 22(2) states that if the definition of a crime is ambiguous, that ambiguity will be interpreted in favor of the individual being investigated, prosecuted, or convicted.71 The IEP’s deliberately flexible standards for the terms “wanton,” “severe,” “widespread,” and “long-term” risk being construed in the light more favorable to the accused, further undermining workability because of Article 22(2). Article 22(2) ensures that crimes are defined with sufficient precision, so individuals can foresee what conduct is criminal.72 With the IEP’s campaign to add ecocide to the Rome Statute creating a buzz about expressive legislation normalizing the prosecution of environmental crimes, Article 22(2) puts overly symbolic, vague criminal provisions at risk for undermining legality.73

IV. Why Vagueness in the Ecocide Definition Must be Limited

If ecocide is going to be added to the Rome Statute, the definition has to work as a criminal prohibition. As it stands today, the IEP’s version does not. Its vagueness creates predictable problems: people cannot tell in advance what conduct is covered and enforcement risks become uneven. The ICC’s credibility depends on avoiding standards that are this open to interpretation.

Vagueness raises concerns about selective or uneven enforcement. Flexible thresholds inevitably leave room for political judgment about which states, industries, and projects warrant investigation.74 This has already proven to be an issue for the ICC, as that risk has not fallen evenly. The ICC faces a history of criticism for geographically uneven enforcement, with the vast majority of defendants being from Africa.75 This trend will continue with ecocide if the definition remains in its current form. Many states in the Global South depend on environmentally intensive development pathways to expand electrification, agriculture, mining, and basic infrastructure; these activities would be more readily framed as ecocidal under an open-textured standard.76 By contrast, major corporate actors headquartered in wealthier states may be structurally insulated from prosecutorial focus, even when engaging in similarly harmful conduct abroad.77

Another issue is notice. The IEP’s definition provides no stable way to predict when development or resource-extraction amounts to ecocide.78 Many projects, such as dams, pipelines, large-scale agriculture, and mining all routinely produce environmental risks or impacts that could be characterized as severe, widespread, or long-term depending on which scientific baselines or community perspectives are used.79 Without objective thresholds, or at least defined underlying acts, it is extremely difficult for decision-makers to be able to decide whether their lawful acts are in fact wanton under the definition’s given test before beginning a project.80 A definition this open-textured does not give fair warning of what is criminal, leaving the risk that actors only discover the boundaries after an investigation commences.

A further consequence of this indeterminacy is that the definition offers weak, and potentially negative, deterrence value. Effective deterrence depends on actors being able to identify ex ante when their conduct crosses the line into criminality.81 Yet, under the IEP’s formulation of ecocide, many large-scale development projects can be plausibly framed as falling within a grey zone, where reasonable experts might disagree about whether the environmental risks create a “substantial likelihood” of severe harm.82 Because the definition leaves core elements open to broad, subjective interpretation by design, project planners cannot reliably distinguish lawful development from criminal conduct in advance. Vagueness may be tolerable elsewhere in the Rome Statute, but where the explicit aim of the amendment is deterrence and norm creation, a standard this fluid is unlikely to influence conduct in the manner its drafters intend.83

Commentators often defend ecocide as valuable primarily for its expressive or symbolic force, but symbolism sits uneasily within the Rome Statute’s legality framework.84 Criminalization cannot rest on open-textured moral messaging, as Article 22, discussed above, requires that crimes be drafted with precision, applied narrowly, and construed in favor of the accused.85 It has not been the Court’s general practice to create norms, but to enforce them.86 The ICC and the Rome Statute were created on the premise of enforcing crimes that have had international usage, not enlisting a small group of scholars to decide what the world should prosecute next.87 With legitimacy already posing an issue for the ICC today, a symbolic and vague crime that lacks teeth could make matters worse.

The ICC’s chronic resource constraints cannot be ignored. The Court currently operates with limited investigative capacity, a divided judiciary, and significant pressure to prioritize a handful of cases at a time.88 Furthermore, the ICC has only handed out eleven convictions in its two decades of existence.89 A crime built around open-textured ecological thresholds would require significant scientific input and substantial fact-development to establish all of the elements.90 That reality is hard to expect from an institution that struggles to manage its existing docket. When the legal standards are unclear, more expert evidence, scientific modeling, and litigation are needed just to determine whether conduct falls within the Statute.91 A definition this indeterminate risks diverting scarce resources into threshold litigation, which would reduce time and capacity available for existing prosecutions and potential situations to be investigated.

An issue building from the previous is the question as to whether the ICC is the correct avenue to determine the scientific scope of the IEP’s ecocide definition.92 ICC judges come from criminal law, international criminal law, and human rights backgrounds.93 Currently, there are no judges presiding over the ICC with any type of scientific experience, let alone ecological scientific expertise.94 As discussed in previous sections, the questions of whether environmental harm rises to the levels of wanton, severe, widespread, and long-term is a complicated scientific inquiry that requires balancing complex environmental variables.95 ICC judges, then, will likely have to rely on experts to understand the environmental matters brought before them in the absence of clear statutory metrics. With this, it is likely that divergent interpretations across cases will result along with significant pressure on the ICC’s already limited resources.

The shortcomings in the IEP’s draft definition do not mean that ecocide is an unworkable project. The fact is that environmental harm is an inherently complex discipline for the ICC to expand into. For the IEP’s definition of ecocide to operate within the ICC’s framework, there must be more solid guidelines, balanced with some flexibility, to account for this complexity. Some flexibility is unavoidable in capturing diverse ecological contexts. However, clarity and foreseeability are paramount in criminal law, and they are needed for the Court to be able to target the most heinous environmental crimes.

V. Ways to Improve the IEP’s Ecocide Definition

The purpose of this section is to propose modifications to the definition of ecocide that would be workable for the ICC in practice. Some degree of vagueness is both inevitable and valuable in environmental law, given that ecological harm is highly contextual and scientific knowledge evolves over time.96 But the IEP’s version pushes flexibility beyond what criminal statutes can support. A more functional approach would be to preserve necessary interpretive space while introducing targeted precision where the current draft is most unstable. This includes revising the threshold terms to give clearer anchors, removing the wanton element altogether, and adding a set of enumerated categories of conduct, paired with a catch-all clause, to guide prosecutors and judges without freezing the definition in outdated scientific assumptions.

The definition of ecocide should aim for a balance between flexibility and rigidity and should not contain strict boundaries. Currently, the definition fails at distinguishing between localized ecological disruption and the type of large-scale harm that would justify international criminalization.97 A workable definition must preserve some room to account for context while still drawing principled lines. This way, ecocide does not become a general environmental offense and maintains the IEP’s vision of encompassing the worst ecological harms.98

A. Removing “Wanton” and the Proportionality Test

The wanton element should be removed because it cannot be meaningfully refined. As discussed above, the proportionality test it introduces is inherently unstable. No amount of drafting precision can resolve the subjectivity baked into that comparison without elevating some interests while excluding others that may be equally relevant.99

The proportionality test also runs against the core purpose of ecocide as a crime centered on protecting the environment from human-caused destruction.100 The very act of weighing environmental harm against “social and economic benefits” serves to enforce that the IEP’s version of ecocide will not prioritize ecological integrity, but human interests.101 Corporations already conduct cost-benefit analyses when deciding whether or not environmentally harmful activities would nevertheless be outweighed by economic benefit.102 Embedding the same exact logic into the definition of ecocide could reproduce the structural incentives that permit ecosystem destruction in the first place, and turn the ICC into a forum of subjective justifications.

Jojo Mehta, the chair of Stop Ecocide International, has stated that the crime of ecocide is meant to protect the environment from corporate activities, including large-scale deforestation in the Amazon and drilling in the Arctic.103 However, as stated, these acts are already justified through cost-benefit balancing frameworks. This means that the very harms ecocide proponents seek to curtail could still fall outside liability, especially where the acts are lawful and carried out for ostensibly essential purposes, such as agriculture or industrial expansion.104 If there is to be a meaningful boundary beyond which no claimed lawful benefit can justify environmental destruction, the wanton element cannot remain. A proportionality test would reintroduce the same justificatory logic that ecocide is meant to disrupt.

Although the IEP’s definition should not rely on open-textured standards, some flexibility can come from the structure of the Rome Statute itself. Article 53(1)–(2) allow the Prosecutor to decline to open or pursue an investigation where there is “no reasonable basis” to proceed, considering whether the investigation would “serve the interests of justice.”105 This institutional design already enables the Office of the Prosecutor to filter out matters that do not reflect the gravity, scale, or normative significance required for ICC intervention.106 Furthermore, Article 17 enables the Court to determine that a case is inadmissible where there is not “sufficient gravity to justify further action.”107 In a way, the Court’s built-in discretion removes the need for ecocide’s proportionality test because its screening already provides a mechanism for excluding cases that fall below the intuitive threshold of ecocide even under a clearer, more determinate definition.

B. Adding Enumerated Acts

Introducing enumerated categories of underlying conduct would give the ecocide definition a baseline structure that the current IEP draft lacks.108 The purpose of this is to provide clear starting points that will guide prosecutors and judges towards the types of environmental harm that should warrant international criminal attention. Similar to Articles 7 and 8, these categories would operate as illustrative anchors while still leaving room for a catch-all provision to capture functionally comparable conduct.109 By doing so, the addition of ecocide to the Rome Statute will carry substantially less risk of arbitrary or politically skewed enforcement identified earlier because decision-makers would no longer be required to infer the boundaries of the crime solely from qualitative thresholds. It would also give the ICC, an institution without inherent scientific or ecological expertise, a reference framework for identifying serious environmental harms without reinventing the analysis in every case.

A functioning enumerated-acts section would draw on existing models that organize ecocidal conduct into coherent categories without attempting an exhaustive list. Several proposals already demonstrate how this can be done. The Promise Institute’s draft110 offers broad, ecologically grounded categories, including large-scale destruction of habitats or ecosystems; despoliation of biological resources that threatens biodiversity; introduction of harmful quantities of pollutants into air, water, or soil; illegal trafficking in hazardous waste; industrial activities involving ozone-depleting substances or persistent organic pollutants; destruction or large-scale taking of protected species; and conduct that significantly contributes to dangerous anthropogenic interference with the climate system.111 The Promise Institute follows the list with a catch-all phrase for similar acts.112 Matthew Gillett, an international lawyer with extensive experience working with the ICC and other international courts,113 has a similar approach in his own ecocide definition.114 These models make the concept of ecocide much more understandable and foreseeable, a benefit both for the ICC itself and for decision-makers that will be subject to the law.

C. Improving “Severe,” “Widespread,” and “Long-term”

As stated in the previous section, the goal is not to replace the IEP’s flexible thresholds with rigid numerical mandates. The IEP is correct that strict quantitative triggers, like fixed geographic sizes or recovery-time benchmarks, would risk excluding situations that plainly merit international concern, such as the collapse of a small but culturally and ecologically vital habitat.115 However, the IEP’s definitions of severe, widespread, and long-term need to have more guidance to limit open-ended interpretations. Modest refinements to the threshold terms along with the addition of enumerated categories of ecocidal conduct would provide the Court and decision-makers with concrete reference points. Prosecutors and judges would be able to assess whether a particular harm is comparable in scale or character to the listed categories, giving the threshold terms more functional meaning.

The threshold for severe should be reformulated so that it provides clearer guidance than the IEP’s current open-textured phrase “very serious adverse changes,” but without collapsing into rigid numerical benchmarks. A revised definition should tie severe to categories of ecologically significant harm drawn from established international environmental law practice. Incorporating an enumerated list paired with a catch-all clause for functionally comparable harms would create a structured way to evaluate severity across ecological contexts.116 This is a practice already followed by the Rome Statute in Article 7, where a catch-all phrase extends the crimes against humanity definition beyond enumerated acts, permitting inclusion of additional conduct only where it is comparable in nature and gravity, or, in other words, severity, to the listed acts.117

A revised widespread threshold should supply guidance on when geographically limited harm confined in one country is serious enough to become internationally significant. While the IEP was correct to deviate from ENMOD and API’s strict metrics, there needs to be additional guardrails as to when harm “extends beyond a limited geographic area,” even when all consequences are confined in a single state.118 By interpreting widespread through the newly-added enumerated acts, similarly to severe, prosecutors and judges would have structured benchmarks for assessing scale adequately.

A revised understanding of long-term should likewise offer clearer guideposts without returning to ENMOD or API’s rigid temporal baselines. But the current formulation, “irreversible or not redressable within a reasonable period of time,” still leaves prosecutors and judges without any principled way to evaluate duration.119 Almost all ecosystems are technically capable of recovery over long enough horizons, making irreversibility a flawed benchmark.120 Interpreting irreversible should therefore be explicitly limited to genuinely permanent alterations, such as ecological loss rendered non-recoverable by physical conversion of land or the total extinction of a species, not to muddle the distinction between “irreversible” and “reasonable period of time.” Like widespread and severe, decision-makers can also assess whether the temporal dimension of the harm resembles the kind of degradation captured in the listed categories.

A simple way to make this framework explicit is to include a clarifying clause, similar to Gillett’s in his formulation, stating that the “severe, widespread, and/or long-term nature of the harm may be established on the totality of the conduct at issue, which may include multiple underlying acts.”121 This way, it is made clear that the Court can and should use the enumerated acts as a guide to assess whether a situation matches each threshold.

The revised definition of ecocide supplies the predictability and coherence that the IEP’s version lacks by combining modest definitional adjustments with enumerated categories of conduct and reliance on existing prosecutorial filters. Together, these recommendations demonstrate that clarity is achievable without sacrificing ecological nuance.

VI. Conclusion

There is no question that the law should respond to the accelerating scale of human-driven environmental destruction, and criminalizing ecocide reflects that.122 But elevating ecocide to the level of genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes, and aggression requires more than this moral force. For ecocide to be added to the Rome Statute, there must be fair notice, limited ambiguity, and it must be applied consistently by an institution with limited resources and no inherent scientific expertise. The IEP’s draft definition has been a positive development, as it has successfully reignited the debate over ecocide and brought it to the forefront of international criminal discourse.123 However, its inherent flaws, including vagueness, unbounded proportionality analysis, and lack of defined enumerated acts, makes it far too indeterminate to deter harmful conduct, too vulnerable to selective enforcement, and too unstable to uphold the ICC’s legitimacy.

The analysis throughout this comment shows that modest but targeted revisions, including removing the wanton element, refining threshold terms, and grounding the definition in enumerated categories of ecologically significant conduct, can bring clarity and structure. These adjustments preserve necessary flexibility while simultaneously ensuring that individual liability rests on principled boundaries.

If ecocide is to serve as a meaningful constraint on the gravest environmental harms, its definition must be more than symbolic. It must be able to guide conduct and withstand legal scrutiny. A revised, more determinate definition would honor the moral ambition of the ecocide movement while ensuring that its legal expression is capable of achieving the protective purpose at which it aims.

Endnotes — (click the footnote reference number, or ↩ symbol, to return to location in text).

  1. 1.

    Rachel Killean & Damien Short, Scoping a Domestic Legal Framework for Ecocide in Scotland, ERCS (Mar. 2024), available online.

  2. 2.

    Anna Jenkin, The Case for an International Crime of Ecocide, 26 NZJEL 221, 226 (Jan. 2022), available online.

  3. 3.

    Hannibal Travis, Ecocide: A Brief History of an Explosive Concept, CJEL (Jan. 8, 2016), available online.

  4. 4.

    About—Ecocide Law, Stop Ecocide International, available online (last visited Nov. 30, 2025).

  5. 5.

    Legal Definition, Stop Ecocide International, available online (last visited Dec. 1, 2025).

  6. 6.

    Jenkin, supra note 2, at 226.

  7. 7.

    Simone Scriven, The Birth and Rise of “Ecocide”, Delacorte Review (Jul. 18, 2023), available online.

  8. 8.

    See generally Elizabeth Maruma Mrema, Carl Bruch & Jordan Diamond et al., Protecting the Environment During Armed Conflict: An Inventory and Analysis of International Law, UNEP (Nov. 2009), available online.

  9. 9.

    Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, Adopted by the United Nations Diplomatic Conference of Plenipotentiaries on the Establishment of an International Criminal Court, Jul. 17, 1998, U.N. Doc. A/CONF.183/9, as amended [hereinafter Rome Statute], 8(2)(b)(iv), available online.

  10. 10.

    Milena Sterio, Crimes Against the Environment, Ecocide, and the International Criminal Court, 56 Case W. Res. J. Int’l L. 223, 224 (2024), available online.

  11. 11.

    Id.

  12. 12.

    Legal Definition, supra note 5.

  13. 13.

    Stop Ecocide Foundation, Independent Expert Panel for the Legal Definition of Ecocide: Commentary & Core Text (Jun. 2021) [hereinafter Core Text], available online.

  14. 14.

    Id.

  15. 15.

    Matthew Gillett, A Tale of Two Definitions: Fortifying Four Key Elements of the Proposed Crime of Ecocide, Part I, Opinio Juris (Jun. 20, 2023), available online.

  16. 16.

    Christina Voigt, «Ecocide» as an International Crime: Personal Reflections on Options and Choices, EJIL Talk (Jul. 3, 2021), available online

    (“An alternative would have been to provide a catalogue of various acts […] there was fear that it would be too limiting […] potentially carrying the notion of “justifying” acts that are not explicitly listed.”).

  17. 17.

    Legal Definition, supra note 5.

  18. 18.

    See Adam Branch & Liana Minkova, Ecocide, the Anthropocene, and the International Criminal Court, 37 Ethics & Int’l Aff. 51, 58 (2023), available online, doi.

  19. 19.

    Voigt, supra note 16.

  20. 20.

    The World Bank, Nam Theun 2: Powering the Next Generation (Oct. 23, 2019), available online.

  21. 21.

    Id.

  22. 22.

    Id.; see also Bruce Shoemaker & William Robichaud eds., Dead in the Water: Global Lessons from the World Bank’s Model Hydropower Project in Laos (UW Press, 2018), paywall.

  23. 23.

    See Bounsouk Souksavath & Mikiyasu Nakayama, Reconstruction of the Livelihood of Resettlers from the Nam Theun 2 Hydropower Project in Laos, 1 Int’l J. Water Resources Dev. 71 (2012), paywall, doi; see broadly Shoemaker & Robichaud, supra note 22.

  24. 24.

    Legal Definition, supra note 5.

  25. 25.

    Core Text, supra note 13; see Eoin Jackson, Analysing the Conclusions of the Independent Expert Panel for the Legal Definition of Ecocide—The Pragmatic Approach to International Environmental Crime, UCD (Jul. 15, 2021), available online.

  26. 26.

    The World Bank, Nam Theun 2 Project Overview (Nov. 27, 2019), available online.

  27. 27.

    Bruce Shoemaker & William Robichaud, Briefing Paper: Dead in the Water: Global Lessons from the World Bank’s Model Hydropower Project in Laos 6 (2018), available online.

  28. 28.

    Id. at 4.

  29. 29.

    Voigt, supra note 16.

  30. 30.

    Elliot Winter, Stop Ecocide International’s Blueprint for Ecocide Is Compromised by Anthropocentrism: A New Architect Must Be Found, 57 Israel L. Rev. 175, 184–85 (2024), available online, doi.

  31. 31.

    See broadly Shoemaker & Robichaud, supra note 27

    (discussing the overall impact of the Nam Theun 2 Hydropower Project in Laos).

  32. 32.

    Clara Ellenbeck, Ecocide: A Critical and Constructive Approach to Establishing a Fifth Crime Against Peace, 42 Ariz. J. Int’l & Comp. L. 1, 16 (2025), available online, archived.

  33. 33.

    Rome Statute, supra note 9, at Art. 8(2)(b)(iv).

  34. 34.

    Robert D. Sloane, Puzzles of Proportion and the “Reasonable Military Commander”: Reflections on the Law Ethics and Geopolitics of Proportionality, 6 NSJ 299, 302 (Jun. 2, 2015), available online, archived.

  35. 35.

    Richard D. Small, Environmental Impact of Fires in Kuwait, 350 Nature 11 (Mar. 7, 1991), paywall, doi.

  36. 36.

    Id.

  37. 37.

    About—Ecocide Law, supra note 4.

  38. 38.

    Core Text, supra note 13.

  39. 39.

    Avidan Kent & Cherie Leman-Richardson, An International Crime of Ecocide: Prospects and Difficulties, Trends (May 10, 2022), available online.

  40. 40.

    Id.

  41. 41.

    Voigt, supra note 16.

  42. 42.

    Sanita Auttopakorn, Nam Theun 2: World Bank Withdrawal Leaves Major Concerns Over Project Outcomes, Int’l Rivers (Jun. 19, 2018), available online

    (“[Nam Theun 2 hydropower dam in Laos] led to the involuntary resettlement of 6200 indigenous peoples, and to widespread impacts to downstream communities.”).

    See also Thayer Scudder, A Retrospective Analysis of Laos’s Nam Theun 2 Dam, 36 Int’l J. Water Resources Dev. 351, 362–63 (2019), paywall, doi

    (describing the lack of improvement efforts to the damaged forest near the Nam Theun 2 hydropower dam).

  43. 43.

    Core Text, supra note 13.

  44. 44.

    Id.

    (“The reference to ‘any element of the environment’ is intended to make it clear that it is enough to affect any element encompassed by the definition of the environment, that is, ‘the earth, its biosphere, cryosphere, lithosphere, hydrosphere and atmosphere, as well as outer space’ ”).

  45. 45.

    Shoemaker & Robichaud, supra note 22, at 188.

  46. 46.

    Id. at 187.

  47. 47.

    Scudder, supra note 42, at 354.

  48. 48.

    Core Text, supra note 13.

  49. 49.

    Id.

  50. 50.

    Id.

  51. 51.

    Matthew Gillett, Georgia Moloney & Anne-Lise Chaber, Proving Ecocide: The Plight of Pangolins as a Case Study for Fusing Ecological Science with International Law, 25 Int’l Crim. L. Rev. 1, 27 (Mar. 5, 2025), available online.

  52. 52.

    See Joanna Jarose, A Sleeping Giant? The ENMOD Convention as a Limit on Intentional Environmental Harm in Armed Conflict and Beyond, 118 Am. J. Int’l L. 469, 481 (Oct. 17, 2024), available online, doi; Ellenbeck, supra note 32, at 22.

  53. 53.

    Ellenbeck, supra note 32, at 22

    (noting scholars such as Markus Wagner question whether certain intrastate environmental harms rise to the level of an international crime).

  54. 54.

    Rome Statute, supra note 9, at Art. 1.

  55. 55.

    Mekong Watch & International Rivers, Nam Theun 2 Hydropower Project, Lao P.D.R.: Field Report 7 (Jun. 18, 2018), available online.

  56. 56.

    Shoemaker & Robichaud, supra note 22, at 188.

  57. 57.

    Core Text, supra note 13.

  58. 58.

    Anastacia Greene, The Campaign to Make Ecocide an International Crime: Quixotic Quest or Moral Imperative?, 30 Fordham Envtl. L. Rev. 1, 5 (2019), available online; Gillett, Moloney & Chaber, supra note 51, at 27–28.

  59. 59.

    Core Text, supra note 13.

  60. 60.

    See, e.g., Tim McNulty, What the River Teaches: Ten Years After Dam Removal on the Elwha River, Rewilding Inst. (Jul. 30, 2024), available online; see also Lourens Poorter et al., Multidimensional Tropical Forest Recovery, 374 Science 1370 (Dec. 9, 2021), paywall, doi

    (finding that tropical forests can recover full plant species diversity in twenty-five to sixty years and that it takes up to a century to recover the full biomass of a mature forest).

  61. 61.

    Carl Schleussner & Ansa Heyl, Glaciers Will Take Centuries to Recover Even If Global Warming is Reversed, IIASA (May 19, 2025), available online.

  62. 62.

    Core Text, supra note 13.

  63. 63.

    See broadly Rome Statute, supra note 9, at Art. 8.

  64. 64.

    Killean & Short, supra note 1, at 34–41

    (listing domestic ecocide legislation).

  65. 65.

    See broadly Rome Statute, supra note 9, at Arts. 7 & 8.

  66. 66.

    Matthew Gillett, “Human, All Too Human”: The Anthropocentricisation of Ecocide, Int’l J. of Hum. Rts. (Sep. 18, 2025), available online, doi.

  67. 67.

    Killean & Short, supra note 1, at 34–37.

  68. 68.

    See, e.g., id.

    (surveying broad formulations in domestic ecocide statutes, including Criminal Codes of Belarus Art. 131, Armenia Art. 282, Russia Art. 358, and similar provisions in Moldova, Ukraine, Georgia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan).

  69. 69.

    Core Text, supra note 13.

  70. 70.

    Killean & Short, supra note 1, at 19.

  71. 71.

    Rome Statute, supra note 9, at Art. 22(2).

  72. 72.

    Caroline Davidson, How to Read International Criminal Law: Strict Construction and the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, 91 St. John’s L. Rev. 37, 56 (2017), available online.

  73. 73.

    Darryl Robinson, Ecocide—Puzzles and Possibilities, 20 J. Int’l Crim. Just. 313, 319 (May 27, 2022), available online, doi.

  74. 74.

    See Alexander K.A. Greenawalt, Justice Without Politics? Prosecutorial Discretion and the International Criminal Court, 39 N.Y.U. J. Int’l L. & Pol. 583, 586 (Mar. 21, 2007), available online.

  75. 75.

    Melissa Hendrickse, Amnesty Int’l, A Chance for Africa to Counter the Pitfalls of International Criminal Justice? (Apr. 22, 2024), available online

    (“Out of the 54 individuals indicted by the ICC to date [of this comment], 47 are African.”).

  76. 76.

    Rebecca Hamilton, Ecocide and the Atrocity Aesthetic, 37 Temp. Int’l & Comp. L.J. 123, 127–28 (2023), available online.

  77. 77.

    Oscar Van den Heede, Ecocide as a Fifth Core Crime in the Rome Statute, 55 N.Y.U. J. Int’l L. & Pol. 435, 442 (May 2023), available online

    (discussing the ICC’s lack of personal jurisdiction over corporations).

  78. 78.

    See Michael Karnavas, Ecocide: Environmental Crime of Crimes or Ill-Conceived Concept?, Opinio Juris (Jul. 29, 2021), available online.

  79. 79.

    See, e.g., Ricardo Gabbay Souza, Ana Mariele Domingues, Anna Spindlegger, Claudia Mair-Bauernfeind & Florian Part, Review of the Current Knowledge and Identified Gaps in Assessing the Social and Environmental Impacts of Mining Processes in the Lithium Triangle, 53 SPC 40 (Jan. 2025), available online, doi

    (discussing the high ecological risk lithium mining, mainly for lithium-ion batteries, posed in South America).

    See also David Tilman, Global Environmental Impacts of Agricultural Expansion: The Need for Sustainable and Efficient Practices, 96 PNAS 5995 (May 25, 1999), available online, doi

    (describing agricultural food production’s detrimental environmental impacts on terrestrial and aquatic ecosystems).

  80. 80.

    See Ellenbeck, supra note 32, at 16.

  81. 81.

    See Hyeran Jo & Beth A. Simmons, Can the International Criminal Court Deter Atrocity?, 70 Int’l Org. 443 (Jul. 8, 2016), paywall, doi, earlier version (Mar. 7, 2016) available online.

    (discussing the deterrent effects of the ICC).

    See also William A. Schabas, An Introduction to the International Criminal Court 57 (2007)

    (discussing the importance of deterrence to the ICC).

  82. 82.

    See, e.g., Aud Tennøy, Jens Kværner & Karl Idar Gjerstad, Uncertainty in Environmental Impact Assessment Predictions: The Need for Better Communication and More Transparency, 24 IAPA 45 (2006), available online, doi

    (studying the inherent uncertainty in environmental impact assessments).

  83. 83.

    About—Ecocide Law, supra note 4

    (“Ecocide law will help to create a healthy societal taboo around mass damage to nature.”).

  84. 84.

    Philippe Sands & Catherine Savard, Criminalising Ecocide, BMJ (Aug. 20, 2025), available online, doi.

  85. 85.

    Rome Statute, supra note 9, at Art. 22.

  86. 86.

    Robinson, supra note 73, at 322–24

    (affirming that criminal law is not a suitable tool for complex societal reform, especially in international criminal law, since it is meant to cover crimes that are already condemned by broad moral consensus).

    Id.

    (“Strategically, if states have refused to adopt a proposition in in the softer realm of state responsibility, it is not plausible to expect that they will suddenly embrace it for the first time in the narrower field of serious international crime.”).

  87. 87.

    See id.

  88. 88.

    Douglas Guilfoyle, This is Not Fine: The International Criminal Court is in Trouble, Part III, EJIL Talk (Mar. 25, 2019), available online, archived.

  89. 89.

    Stephanie van den Berg, What is the International Criminal Court?, Reuters, Apr. 2, 2025, available online.

  90. 90.

    Van den Heede, supra note 77, at 441.

  91. 91.

    See id.

  92. 92.

    Id. at 440.

  93. 93.

    Karnavas, supra note 78.

  94. 94.

    Current Judges, ICC, available online (last visited Dec. 3, 2025).

  95. 95.

    Van den Heede, supra note 77, at 441.

  96. 96.

    Catherine Savard, What Mens Rea for Ecocide in the Rome Statute?, Int’l J. of Hum. Rts. 4–5 (forthcoming 2025), available online, doi.

  97. 97.

    Ellenbeck, supra note 32.

  98. 98.

    About—Ecocide Law, supra note 4

    (“Ecocide refers only to the very worst harms, usually on a major industrial scale or impacting a huge area.”).

  99. 99.

    See Ellenbeck, supra note 32, at 14.

  100. 100.

    Id. at 16.

  101. 101.

    Rachel Killean & Damien Short, A Critical Defence of the Crime of Ecocide, Envtl. Pol. 6 (Apr. 2025), available online, doi.

  102. 102.

    Polly Higgins, Eradicating Ecocide: Laws and Governance to Stop the Destruction of the Planet at XVI (2d ed. 2015), excerpt available online.

  103. 103.

    Jojo Mehta & Julia Jackson, Editorial, To Stop Climate Disaster, Make Ecocide an International Crime. It’s the Only Way, The Guardian, Feb. 24, 2021, available online.

  104. 104.

    See Kevin Jon Heller, Skeptical Thoughts on the Proposed Crime of “Ecocide” (That Isn’t), Opinio Juris (Jun. 23, 2021), available online.

  105. 105.

    Rome Statute, supra note 9, at Art. 53.

  106. 106.

    Brian D. Lepard, How Should the ICC Prosecutor Exercise His or Her Discretion? The Role of Fundamental Ethical Principles, 43 John Marshall L. Rev. 553, 554–55 (2010), available online.

  107. 107.

    Rome Statute, supra note 9, at Art. 17(1)(d).

  108. 108.

    Gillett, supra note 66, at 13; see also Killean & Short, Critical Defence, supra note 101.

  109. 109.

    See broadly, Rome Statute, supra note 9, at Arts. 7 & 8.

  110. 110.

    Promise Institute for Human Rights, Proposed Definition of Ecocide (Apr. 9, 2021), available online.

  111. 111.

    Id.

  112. 112.

    Id.

  113. 113.

    Dr. Matthew Gillett, Profile, U. Essex, available online (last visited Dec. 5, 2025); Gillett, Moloney & Chaber, supra note 51.

  114. 114.

    Gillett, Moloney & Chaber, supra note 51, at 23–25.

  115. 115.

    Kate Mackintosh, Ecocide is the Missing Crime, Icarus Complex (Oct. 22, 2025), available online.

  116. 116.

    Gillett, supra note 66, at 13.

  117. 117.

    Rome Statute, supra note 9, at Art. 7(1)(k).

  118. 118.

    Core Text, supra note 13.

  119. 119.

    Id.

  120. 120.

    See supra note 59.

  121. 121.

    See Gillett, Moloney & Chaber, supra note 51, at 25.

  122. 122.

    See Travis, supra note 3.

  123. 123.

    About—Ecocide Law, supra note 4.

I. Introduction

“Ecocide” was coined in the 1970s through a proposal by Professor Arthur W. Galston, but has only recently gained popularity in legal circles.1 The proposed definition is: “[U]nlawful or wanton acts committed with knowledge that there is a substantial likelihood of severe and either widespread or long-term damage to the environment being caused by those acts.”2 The work that the diverse Independent Expert Panel for the Legal Definition of Ecocide (IEP) put in to release this definition in 2021 was astounding! The definition has gone as far as giving the definitions of the terms as they would be used in regard to ecocide, and, essentially, being ready for its addition to the Rome Statute.3 It was considered in light of the environmental destruction which had taken place during the Vietnam War. Despite this, only fifteen countries consider ecocide a crime.4 However, in the current discourse, there is a proposal to include ecocide as the fifth crime under the Rome Statute.

Vanuatu spearheaded the campaign to amend the Rome Statute by adding this definition of ecocide as the fifth crime by formally introducing it to the International Criminal Court (ICC) for consideration in 2024.5 Fellow Island states such as Fiji and Samoa gave their support to Vanuatu by endorsing this proposal. Thereafter, The Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), as the only African State extended its support by formally endorsing this proposal.6 The Island States’ rationale for the support of ecocide as an international crime is self-evident: rising ocean waters would cause the Island States to vanish off the face of the earth. That is not right. The people are connected to their land and to their culture, that kind of symbiosis cannot be found anywhere else, and ecocide would obliterate the indigenous peoples’ way of life.7 As for The DRC, they have suffered under the hands of companies that are using toxic mining chemicals that seep into the soil, and affect the people working and living around the mines. This will be discussed further in this comment. Therefore, the indigenous people, who have deep roots literally and figuratively in nature and in the land and in the environment, are seeking support and help to save their way of life through this proposal to the ICC. The hope is that this gathers momentum and garners great support from other countries to ensure that there is an amendment to the Rome Statute.

Although this definition seems succinct, and it is, there are still some aspects of the amendment that would need further fine-tuning. There are a number of crimes that would fall under ecocide that are not necessarily perpetrated by individuals, as is expected under the Rome Statute. These crimes are perpetrated by multinational corporations who act in concert with government officials that essentially grant them the “permission” required to dump nuclear waste and/or use harsh chemicals that are otherwise outlawed in their countries of origin. The result is that hundreds, if not thousands of people get sick, and/or die. The soil is also poisoned which also leads to long-lasting impacts to the environment and the people.

This comment shall explore the definition of ecocide being a well thought out definition. However, the amendments would need to be reworked to include corporations as perpetrators. Although that can be inferred, lawyers, or even members of the legal fraternity, do not welcome ambiguity in the definition of a “legal” term. Therefore, there would need to be a further analysis of the Rome Statute’s definition of personhood to expand and include legal persons. To examine this issue the comment shall focus on African countries. These countries are Kenya—the case of illegal dumping of Nuclear Waste in the North Eastern region. The DRC and Zambia—use of toxic mining chemicals. Nigeria and Côte d’Ivoire—toxic waste dumping. These will give a varied idea of the ills that multi-national corporations are doing in countries on the African continent, and the health fall out from their actions. While focusing on these countries there will be a review of the Basel Convention on the Control of Transboundary Movements of Hazardous Wastes and their Disposal,8 adopted in 1989, in connection with the named actions. The Basel Convention then made way for the Bamako Convention,9 adopted in 1998, a treaty of African nations prohibiting the import into Africa of any hazardous (including radioactive) waste.

While exploring the topic, this comment is divided into different sections. In the section on Neocolonialism, the discussion will focus on the long roots of colonialism. Colonialism never left and continues to ravage the indigenous communities. The next section will examine environmental racism and how it affects not just people in Africa, but also Black and Brown bodies in the West. In the same section health will also be a topic of exploration and how the environmental racism affects the people in many ways, and it is irreversible for some. In Section IV, an aspect of ecocide is discussed as there to be a nexus with genocide. This is an interesting topic, demonstrating the thin line between the two. Next, is the discussion on the expansion of the definition of personhood in the Rome Statute. This section focuses on a discourse to further expand the definition of personhood to include corporations as legal persons. In the next section is a discussion on the OTP’ recently released Policy on Addressing Environmental Damage Through the Rome Statute. This document discusses ecocide and the connection to the current Rome Statute. The discussion in the penultimate section are the case studies mentioned previously. Then this comment concludes.

II. Neo-colonialism or Plain Colonialism?

Ecocide has strong roots in colonialism. There have been statements that colonialism ended when colonies gained their independence. However, neo-Colonialism is simply colonialism in a new trench coat with a moustache. This is to say that restricting colonialism to a single period in history is “a short sighted, naïve and politically convenient conception to enable the unchecked expansion of the colonial model[.]”10 Colonialism has been identified as having three primary characteristics:

  1. The external domination of one people by another;

  2. The imposition of colonial ‘culture and customs onto the colonised’; and

  3. The exploitation of the colonised (slavery, natural resource extraction and ‘misappropriation of cultural property’ to name only a few).11

In evaluating these characteristics, it is possible to see how these are actions being executed across the continent of Africa, as well as other areas with developing countries. After all “more than 80% of the world’s population lives in over 100 developing countries.”12

Despite their cultural differences, Indigenous peoples from around the world share common problems related to the protection of their rights as distinct peoples. In the large part—and, as a result of colonisation—Indigenous peoples have been frequently dispossessed of their land, homes and, in many instances, their culture.13

This is especially noticeable through aid stipulations that are listed to the recipient country as obligations that need to be performed for them to be seen as worth the aid. As Dunlap puts it, it can be regarded as assertion. Assertion in that:

[T]here is only one, right way to use land, live, organise culture and/or develop a nation. Inherent is a sense of superiority that articulates itself not only through overt domination with the ‘right of conquest’, but also the good intentions that manifest in paternalism, charity, or as one critic has called it, ‘the white savior complex’ which can even take the form of ‘solidarity’.14

This is not different from the scenario of what happened during the initial time of colonisation, just more sophisticated. Through these actions, the rights of indigenous people are continuously violated, and their cultural ideal and experiences are affected to the point of erasure.15 When regarding the third characteristic, across developing countries, it can be observed, and in some instances seen with a keen eye, that there is always something that is being exchanged with either a donor country or a donor organisation. It really could be any of the elements listed.

III. Environmental Racism and Health

There are numerous types of systemic racism. The form that applies to ecocide is environmental racism. Environmental racism is a hidden form of violence on Black and Brown bodies regardless of location.16 It can be seen in both the global south and the global north. It is defined as an action that is not just the intentional poisoning of communities of people of colour, it is also:

[P]art of structural racism and exploitation that arises from cultural ‘logics of domination.’ These naturalized ‘logics of domination’ allow those in power to explicitly or implicitly claim superiority over people of color, women, the poor, animals, and the land, and in so doing treat oppressed groups as less valuable.17

It is also evident in countries in the global north, especially in areas that have a high population of Black and Brown People.18 However, the reason it is identified as hidden is that the impact is not obvious to people who do not live nor experience it in the specific neighborhoods and/or the countries in the global south. The impact is noted and recognized as a part of systemic racism. The result is that it denies Black and Brown people “their chance to achieve untold levels of cognitive potential by quietly poisoning them” with the dumping of waste that contaminates the soil, the water, and even the air.19 This will all surely end up in and around the bodies of those that live in these contaminated areas and make them sick.

A. The Western World

The dumping of toxic waste, or the choice to build factories within close proximity to poor neighborhoods with large Black and Brown populations, is a big part of the problem. These factories tend to have toxic waste runoff that contaminates the water or the soil.20 There is a large number of people who have been poisoned by the industrial waste runoff with poisons such as lead or even arsenic!21

The reason this is important to understand is that there are parallels with the manner that companies use hazardous materials while mining, or industrial runoff near running rivers or aquifers, or dumping hazardous waste that will eventually find its way to the people living in the communities around the land. The only difference is that when it is done in developing countries, it is done at a far larger scale than when it is done in neighborhoods in the global north with the aforementioned large poor Black and Brown populations.

B. The African Continent

On the African continent, the places that historically have had hazardous waste dumped on their land have also had astronomical numbers of people suffering or dying from cancer. This is the consequence of companies dumping their hazardous waste without a second thought. The proposed definition of ecocide attempts to capture the behavior defined as “unlawful or wanton acts committed with knowledge that there is a substantial likelihood of severe and either widespread or long-term damage to the environment being caused by those acts.” There is full knowledge of the consequences of dumping hazardous waste and the impact it will have, not just on the environment, but also on the people in the surrounding areas. Soil is porous and water flows, with that, it means that the hazardous waste will move from where it is initially dumped to other areas. There is no way for the companies to claim ignorance. The risks are obvious.

C. Commonalities

Another parallel between both communities is the land degradation, deforestation, or lack of trees, and water and air pollution.22 None of this is an element of a healthy supportive environment. It would definitely sustain an unhealthy environment, and thus keep the communities around the contaminated areas unhealthy and sick.

There is a strong correlation between environmental racism and health. The structural nature of systemic racism points to this issue. The disregard for the areas with populations of Black and Brown people, regardless of locale, would increase illnesses such as cancer, miscarriages, birth defects, and severe headaches, to name a few.23 This would ensure dwindling health and a dwindling population as well. That the companies who carelessly dump their hazardous waste are not attempting to stem these issues is a far bigger issue.

IV. The Genocide-Ecocide Nexus

The Genocide-Ecocide nexus is important to understand because it explains that the destruction done by states and corporations intersect at a high level:

[T]hroughout the history of capitalism, with evidence that many contemporary genocide are driven by ecocide and efforts to expand raw material resource withdrawals.24

A further intersection could also be explained with the connection to colonialism, specifically the third characteristic mentioned above. This then lends its hand to the inter-relationship between the two to demonstrate that genocide and ecocide occur concurrently in many cases.25 The inter-relationship can further be explained with the expansion of industry that was brought about through colonialism that destroyed a lot of the land, culture, and people that were forced to align with ideas that did not belong to them. Linking ecocide and genocide is expanding the basic understanding of genocide and expanding it to cover not just physical genocide, but cultural genocide as well.

It is interesting to note that with the mention of economic betterment comes the destruction of the land that indigenous people have relied upon for everything from food to their livelihood. However, due to the competition that comes from the work economy, and the low economy of African states, corruption and bribery have become a way of life for economic survival.26 Then the intersection of ecocide and genocide on the African Continent becoming a consequence of the political economic organisation of capitalism becomes a lot clearer.27 That being said, the genocide in the genocide-ecocide nexus is not an immediate result, it is a long-term result. Once the land is poisoned with the hazardous chemical contaminants that are dumped by companies, then that is where it starts. The sicknesses that follow are a result of it and include the death of the people, and the inability to continue the communities because of the previously mentioned birth defects and miscarriages. This should not stand! This is yet another reason that ecocide should be added to the Rome Statute.

V. Changing the Definition of Personhood

Article 25 of the Rome Statute, where the definition of personhood is found, is the focus of this section. Article 25(1) states: “The Court shall have jurisdiction over natural persons pursuant to this Statute.” This seems to mean that legal persons such as companies cannot be held liable for the crimes that they perpetrate. Corporations or state actors are explicitly excluded from the crimes listed in Article 8 of the Rome Statute. Most if not all of the chemicals or hazardous or toxic waste that are dumped are done by companies. It could be in conjunction with a government official, but the waste belongs to a company. It is interesting to note that, despite the fact that the waste comes from a developed country, it is ferried all the way to the developing world to be disposed of where a country that gains absolutely no benefit that bears all the consequences. Therefore, in expanding Article 8 with the crime of ecocide needs to expand the definition of personhood.

Looking further at the definition of personhood the idea of expanding the definition will be discussed, and thereafter, the other debates surrounding the definition of personhood will follow.

A. Implications of Holding Corporations Liable

Article 25 not only focuses on personhood, it focuses on individual criminal responsibility. That demonstrates the inflexibility surrounding this Article. A company cannot be charged as it does not fall under the current definition. Even if one of the c-suite executives is charged, they did not act of their own accord, but acted in “the best interests” of the company. In the end, this would not pass. This is the reason behind this call for an amendment, especially where ecocide is concerned. The Governments are also at fault in that they permit these companies to dispose of the hazardous waste, and yet they have no plan nor a safe space to dispose of the waste safely.

With the proposed expansion of the definition of personhood, it would include legal persons. The legal person would be represented by one of, or all of, the c-suite executives. This would be highly dependent on how the Office of the Prosecutor (OTP) decides to charge the legal person. This would also make it easier to prosecute corporations within the jurisdiction of the ICC.28

VI. Deterrence Effect

One of the main aims of the ICC is deterrence. The fear of punishment deters far more than any convention ever will. Although, this only applies to those who are parties to the Rome Statute. Out of the 193 U.N. Members, only 123 have ratified the Rome Statute. However, there is still the International Court of Justice (ICJ), but this only applies to states and not individuals. Furthermore, the ICJ’s 2025 advisory on Climate Change29 does support the idea that ecocide should be recognised now more than ever. The implementation upon its recognition is what is under discussion.

There are two types of deterrence, despite them being separate they work best together. A Judicial institution is at its most powerful when both are working in tandem. The first is prosecutorial deterrence which is:

[A] direct consequence of legal punishment: it holds when potential perpetrators reduce or avoid law-breaking for fear of prosecution and official punishment.30

The second is social deterrence which is:

[A] consequence of the broader social milieu in which actors operate: it occurs when potential perpetrators calculate the informal consequences of law-breaking.31

Therefore, if the two are reinforced with the other crimes under the Rome Statute, and also if ecocide is added, there will be fewer issues surrounding climate change. Fewer people would deny the need to act because there is a consequence.

Where consequences are concerned, if the proposal for the expansion of the definition of personhood is also accepted, then the punishments that should follow should focus on the executives, especially the CEO, to appear as the representative of the company. Thereafter, once found guilty and convicted of the crime, the punishment would follow the three proposed steps. First, the CEO would need to serve prison time. Second, there would need to be a substantial amount paid to the affected community sufficient for them to take care of themselves. Third, they would need to pay for the clean up and any of the health services the community would need. This would serve both prosecutorial and social deterrence.

VII. OTP Policy on Addressing Environmental Damage Through the Rome Statute

The OTP’s Policy on Addressing Environmental Damage Through the Rome Statute,32 claims that the OTP has the means to prosecute environmental crimes. However, without a succinct definition of ecocide and the gravity with which it is held, the deterrence value would not be at the necessary peak. The Policy further points out that if there is no generally accepted definition of “natural” environment, then how would such crimes be prosecuted? The focus on anthropogenic crimes and not environmental crimes are what makes the definition of ecocide necessary.

As is, the Rome Statute may touch on nature and the environment, however, it does not get to the meat and bone of the issues that are affected. The loss of culture and land nor the illnesses from the negligence and chemical fallout are not recognized as crimes under the Rome Statute as it currently stands.

The Policy is well thought out and does demonstrate what is possible under the current Rome Statute, but it is not enough.

VIII. Other Proposals

Although the discussion on the expansion of the definition of personhood within the Rome Statute has been highly discussed, there are other proposals on how the world can deal with cases of ecocide. Another proposal is having an entirely separate court or tribunal that would specifically deal with ecocide as a crime.33 The suggestion is for there to be a separate mechanism for ecocide cases, something akin to the U.N. Security Council: an Environmental Security Council where all members get a vote.34 Alternatively, the mechanism could be a separate court within the ICC.

IX. Case Studies

The cases from the African continent span decades. There is a level of corruption on the African continent that is quite unnerving. When living in a country on the continent, a citizen is able to point out the issues surrounding corruption, however, when looking at the academic research regarding corruption, it almost seems like it does not exist. However, this is easily explained by a country’s actions. If a country does what is expected of it by the global north, then it is less likely to be called out.

Where ecocide is concerned, many if not all of the developing countries are currently being affected by some ecological or environmental issue. Yet, looking at their carbon footprints, they are very low in comparison to many countries in the global north. The bulk of the harm is being caused by the global north. However, the bulk of the consequences are borne by the global south.

If ecocide was included in the Rome Statute, it would be incredibly helpful for those living in the global south. Recognize that the companies that are using harsh chemicals in mining or disposing of hazardous waste come from the global north. Despite their knowledge of the effects that these chemicals will have on the populations surrounding the dumping site, or even on the people working with these chemicals, the companies continue to inflict harm. The companies would not take the same actions on their own populations at the same scale. The laws in place in their home countries would cause them to either pay fines, or suffer their executives to get convicted for their actions. However, in the global south, due to the fact that local industry has not reached the level of the global north, the laws have not yet caught up. This is the loophole that the companies are utilizing.

Looking at the concept of complementarity as supported by the Rome Statute, it is pertinent to point out that if there is an unwillingness of the domestic courts to pursue these cases, then the case would be right for the ICC once ecocide is added as a crime.

These case studies include several countries, span a period of time from the 1980s to 2025, and illustrate the extent to which companies play in ecocide and even go as far as the ecocide-genocide nexus. Different issues arise at different points in history. The case studies are horrifying, especially since the aforementioned Basel Convention came into force in 1989, and the Bamako Convention came into force in 1998.

A. Nuclear Waste Dumped in the North-Eastern Region of Kenya

In Kenya, specifically the North-Eastern area, it has been alleged that there was untreated nuclear waste that was haphazardly disposed of in the 1980s.35 Although that area is generally a dry area, it does have aquifers that flow towards other areas of Kenya that were contaminated by this waste. Recently, a Parliamentary committee chose to get to the bottom of it and called the ex-rural development minister who was in office during the Moi-era government. This inquiry began because those who live in one specific county in the North Eastern region stated that they have seen very high rates of cancer. In 2023, the cancer centre was opened and they saw 440 cases, in 2024 there were 1347 cases, and in 2025 there were 640 in the first quarter of the year by the time this article was published. There have been studies done that have proven that close exposure to disposed nuclear waste causes people to develop cancer.36 Therefore, the carcinogen exposure from the nuclear waste that has seeped into the waters probably accounts for the vast increases in the cancer rates among these people.

The contaminated underground aquifer leads to Meru. Meru has been found to have the highest number of cancer cases in the whole of Kenya.37 The study did not find that there were any distinct differences between the cancer cases of women and men. The disposal of nuclear waste where people thought was a safe place has caused there to be horrible consequences over the last forty to forty-five years. People are suffering because of that one selfish choice.

Despite the government being aware of this issue, they have been attempting to push for nuclear power plant in Kenya, specifically in Kilifi county in the Coastal region.38 It is being vehemently opposed by the indigenous people of the area. It is also pertinent to note that the government’s push for a nuclear power plant is occurring without acknowledging, or having learned from, the health and environmental effects and consequences of the previous (alleged) instance of improper nuclear waste disposal. Moreover, the fact that this plant is located close to the sea means that any toxic runoff would affect the marine life that the Kenya Wildlife Services is working so hard to preserve. Furthermore, the indigenous people there rely on the sea for their livelihood and for their culture. Lastly, the tourists that the country of Kenya depends on would disappear. This is an example of how much bigger the effects of ecocide are. It is economic, it is social, and it is cultural.

B. Toxic Waste Dumping in Nigeria and Côte d’Ivoire

These two matters will be dealt with separately and in chronological order. In Nigeria, the toxic waste disposal case took place in an area known as The Niger Delta, in 1987—1988, whereas in Côte d’Ivoire waste disposal took place in the Abidjan in 2006. The reason behind dealing with them separately is that although they have the same subject matter, they have different factors affecting their actions surrounding these matters.

1. Koko Incident—Niger Delta, Nigeria

The Koko incident took place in a fishing village of the same name near the aforementioned Niger Delta area in Nigeria. The disposal of the hazardous chemicals spanned a little over a year, the Nigerian authorities found two thousand drums filled with toxic waste disposed of in the small fishing village of Koko.39 As previously mentioned, this is dangerous as the poison from the hazardous materials can seep into the soil and the water and contaminate it. This puts the community in peril as they are a rural village that relies on not just the soil, but the water in the river to live, for their livelihood and for everything else.40 This was done by an Italian company that failed to comply with specific regulations that were in place in Italy just so that they could dispose of the chemicals cheaply.41 The company put its profits above the health and the lives of the Nigerian people that lived in this little fishing village. It was found that the aforementioned health issues plagued the people there for decades. Nineteen people also died.42 The Italian company did not comply with the regulations from their own country, even going as far as getting a ship to ferry the waste all the way to Nigeria. The company knew that the waste was dangerous and knowingly went ahead to endanger people’s lives, the society they lived in, the waterway that probably served more than just that village, and more. This is the kind of behavior that needs to be deterred by the proposed amendment. Corporations knowingly take a shortcut just for a bigger bottom line, disregarding the people that they affect. This is a clear sign of environmental racism, colonialism as has been defined by the characteristics.

2. Abidjan—Côte d’Ivoire

This disposal took place in 2006. Both the Basel Convention and the Bamako Convention had come into force by 2006 governing the disposal of any sort of chemical waste. Additionally, Côte d’Ivoire had passed laws that provided up to twenty years imprisonment plus a US$1.6 million fine for anybody caught dealing in the toxic waste trade.43 This is important because the company Trafigura decided that it did not want to pay a substantial sum to a Dutch company to dispose of its petroleum waste and, instead, much like the Niger Delta case, chose a bigger bottomline over caring for others. They chose to pay a smaller sum of US$17,000 to the Government of Côte d’Ivoire to illegally dispose of their waste over the US$620,000 quoted by the Dutch company.44 Once again, capitalism won this round, with complete disregard for conventions that were in place to protect vulnerable people. Bribery won out. The day after the disposal, in August 2006, the people of Abidjan woke up to appalling effects of the chemicals. The consequences were immediate. The Dutch police did an investigation on the disposal and fined Trafigura US$100,000, and later one million euros after they were found guilty of the act of disposing of the chemicals illegally. However, there was a plot twist: the fine that was paid for the Ivorians never actually reached them. Even with the Amnesty International and Greenpeace report on the health issues that were amassed after this careless disposal, the money was stolen by unsavory characters and was never found.

From both these cases it is evident that companies are putting their bottomline ahead of the lives of the people of the global south. Companies are using bribery and corruption to get their way; they are aware they should not be acting in that way, but they are not deterred. This is another reason why the definition of legal personhood should be expanded, and why ecocide should be added to the Rome Statute. Once the company Trafigura was hit in their pockets several times, they followed the necessary regulations. That is why the suggestion for punishment is for both a fine to be paid and for the executives to be imprisoned for some time. If conventions are in place and the companies are still undeterred, surely they should have more significant consequences.

C. Toxic Mining Chemicals used in DRC and Zambia

Both of these cases are current issues. The Countries are both experiencing the same fallout, although DRC’s issues surpass those of Zambia. Although there are differences, the two countries shall be discussed simultaneously as both countries are on the Central African Copperbelt. Therefore, they have similar if not the same minerals.45 DRC, however, has been reported to have a lot more minerals than Zambia.

There are a lot of politics surrounding the mining in the two countries. The European Union and the United States are investing in the two countries to renew a railway line that is serving as pushback to China’s influence in the two countries.46 Once again, the characteristics of colonisation are rearing its head again. The need to control the extraction of the minerals while using labour of the indigenous people so as to send the minerals back to a place that will not benefit the indigenous people. Sure the people are earning some money, but it is not enough to make their lives better. They are just surviving and remain poor rural communities.47 The contaminants from the mines pollute the water, the soil, and the ambient air and it is affecting the growth of everyone, especially the children.48 Furthermore, the harshness of the chemicals used affects people’s bodies in a manner comparable to the pollutants that contaminated the water, soil, and air in Nigeria and Côte d’Ivoire. Mining also shortens the lifespan of the people who work in the mines. The ecological harms that are also being perpetrated further causes stress to the indigenous people who rely on the land. The people who live adjacent to the mines complain that they cannot even grow crops because the soil, water, and air are all contaminated. This leaves people to further suffer even to the point of malnutrition.49 Another issue is that children start mining very early and do not go to school which further stunts their mental growth even more than the contamination from all the chemicals.50

This is a sad state of affairs. Not only are people trying to ensure that they have some economic independence, but they are endangering their lives as they do not work with protective gear and are thus getting sick more. The earth is being poisoned by the harmful chemicals. This is no way to help a people move further in life. Traditions are ending, customs are dying, and all people are doing are going to the mines to help companies fatten up their bottom line.

X. Conclusion

This comment set out to prove that there is a dire need for the amendment of the Rome Statute to not only accept the proposal of the the definition of ecocide, but to also expand the definition of personhood to include legal persons. The greatest tragedy to the environment has been capitalism and colonialism. The lack of understanding or even the willful refusal to understand what the earth means to indigenous cultures and their people has reached a point where companies have no qualms about poisoning the earth. This is the very reason why climate change has reached this abysmal point. If, as humans, we want to try and reverse some of the harm that has been visited upon by the earth, we need to slow down on industry and pollution. We need to find new ways to take care of each other and focus on our communities. The bottom line is not as important as the people. The COVID-19 lock downs showed us how easy it is to start this reversal. However, until we get to the point where we, as a people, are willing to forego capitalism at the level it has reached, then we need to find ways to deter companies from continuing to push those levels further. The harm is not just affecting the vulnerable, it will eventually affect every single person through the rising cancer rates, the rising cost of living, and the rising cost of food. This comment has shown that adopting the crime of ecocide would aid in respecting the earth some more. The threat of losing money is a far bigger threat than climate change in the current economy. Hit them where it hurts.

Endnotes — (click the footnote reference number, or ↩ symbol, to return to location in text).

  1. 1.

    Anja Habersang, Tackling Terricide, Not (Only) Ecocide: Further Exploring the Nexus Between Social-Ecological Destruction, 22 Globalizations 323 (2025), available online, doi.

  2. 2.

    Legal Definition, Stop Ecocide International, available online (last visited Jan. 10, 2026).

  3. 3.

    Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, Adopted by the United Nations Diplomatic Conference of Plenipotentiaries on the Establishment of an International Criminal Court, Jul. 17, 1998, U.N. Doc. A/CONF.183/9, as amended [hereinafter Rome Statute], available online..

  4. 4.

    Existing & Proposed Ecocide Laws, Ecocide Law, available online (last visited Jan. 9, 2026).

    (The countries are Vietnam, Uzbekistan, France, Russia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyz Republic, Georgia, Tajikistan, Belarus, Ukraine, Armenia, Moldova, Chile, European Union, Belgium, and Chile).

  5. 5.

    Criminalising Ecocide, Climate Diplomacy, available online (last visited Jan. 9, 2026).

  6. 6.

    History, Ecocide Law, available online (last visited Jan. 9, 2026).

  7. 7.

    Simon Prideaux, Mustapha Sheikh & Adam Fomby eds., Crime, Criminality and Injustice: An Interdisciplinary Collection of Revelations, Part One (Nov. 2023), paywall.

  8. 8.

    Basel Convention on the Control of Transboundary Movements of Hazardous Wastes and Their Disposal (adopted Mar. 22, 1989, entered into force May 5, 1992), 1673 U.N.T.S. 57, available online, archived.

  9. 9.

    Bamako Convention on the Ban of the Import into Africa and the Control of Transboundary Movement and Management of Hazardous Wastes within Africa (adopted Jan. 30, 1991, entered into force Apr. 22, 1998), OAU, available online, archived.

  10. 10.

    Alexander Dunlap, The “Solution” Is Now the “Problem:” Wind Energy, Colonisation and the “Genocide-Ecocide Nexus” in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, Oaxaca, Int’l J. of Hum. Rts. (2017), available online, doi.

  11. 11.

    Id.

  12. 12.

    Melaku Geboye Desta & Moshe Hirsch, African Countries in the World Trading System: International Trade, Domestic Institutions and the Role of the International Law, 61 ICLQ 127 (Jan. 2012), paywall, doi.

  13. 13.

    Prideaux, Sheikh & Fomby, supra note 7.

  14. 14.

    Dunlap, supra note 10.

  15. 15.

    Prideaux, Sheikh & Fomby, supra note 7.

  16. 16.

    Rita Turner, The Slow Poisoning of Black Bodies: A Lesson in Environmental Racism and Hidden Violence, 15 Meridians 189 (2016), paywall, doi.

  17. 17.

    Id.

  18. 18.

    Id.

  19. 19.

    S.O. Atteh, The Political Economy of Environmental Degradation: The Dumping of Toxic Wastes in West Africa, 20 Afr. Rev. 19 (1993), paywall.

  20. 20.

    Ruben Vives, Jet Fuel Dump on Schools Raises Heat at Cudahy Town Hall Meeting, L.A. Times, Jan. 18, 2020, available online.

  21. 21.

    Turner, supra note 16.

  22. 22.

    Chomba Kalunga, The Effects of Mining on Health: Evidence from Copper Mining in Zambia, ASSA/AEA Conference (Dec. 31, 2020), download, download slide deck available online, earlier version available online.

  23. 23.

    Atteh, supra note 19.

  24. 24.

    Michael J. Lynch, Averi Fegadel & Michael A. Long, Green Criminology and State-Corporate Crimes: The Ecocide-Genocide Nexus with Examples from Nigeria, 23 J. Genocide Research 236 (2021), paywall, doi.

  25. 25.

    Id.

  26. 26.

    Atteh, supra note 19.

  27. 27.

    Lynch, Fegadel & Long, supra note 24.

  28. 28.

    Habersang, supra note 1.

  29. 29.

    Obligations of States in Respect of Climate Change, Advisory Opinion, 2025 I.C.J. (forthcoming) (Jul. 23, 2025), available online.

  30. 30.

    Hyeran Jo & Beth A. Simmons, Can the International Criminal Court Deter Atrocity?, 70 Int’l Org. 443 (Mar. 8, 2016), paywall, doi, earlier version (Dec. 2014) available online.

  31. 31.

    Id.

  32. 32.

    Office of the Prosecutor, ICC, Policy on Addressing Environmental Damage Through the Rome Statute (Dec. 4, 2025), available online.

  33. 33.

    S. Faizi, Ecocides: On the Need for an Environmental Security Council, 32 CNS 36 (2021), paywall, doi.

  34. 34.

    Id.

  35. 35.

    Samwel Owino, Why MPs Want Cyrus Jirongo Over Probe Into Nuclear Waste Dumping in North Eastern, Daily Nation, Jun. 24, 2025, paywall.

  36. 36.

    Maya Brownstein, Living Near St. Louis-Area Coldwater Creek During Childhood Linked With Higher Risk of Cancer From Radiation, HSPH (Jul. 16, 2025), available online.

  37. 37.

    Francis Kobia, Jesse Gitaka, Francis Makokha et al., The State of Cancer in Meru, Kenya: A Retrospective Study, Open Research Afr. (Dec. 3, 2019), available online, doi.

  38. 38.

    Alan Kasujja, Why are Nuclear Power Plans Proving Controversial in Africa?, BBC Afr. Daily, Jul. 4, 2024, audio available online.

  39. 39.

    Claudio De Majo, Italy’s Poison Ships: How an International Trade of Hazardous Waste Sparked a Grassroots Struggle for Environmental Justice, 43 Arcadia (2020), available online, doi.

  40. 40.

    Atteh, supra note 19.

  41. 41.

    De Majo, supra note 39.

  42. 42.

    Atteh, supra note 19.

  43. 43.

    Id.

  44. 44.

    Amnesty International, Trafigura: A Toxic Journey (Apr. 11, 2016), available online.

  45. 45.

    A. Muimba-Kankolongo, C. Banza Lubaba Nkulu, J. Mwitwa, F. M. Kampemba & M. Mulele Nabuyanda, Impacts of Trace Metals Pollution of Water, Food Crops, and Ambient Air on Population Health in Zambia and the DR Congo, J. Environ. Public Health (Jul. 5, 2022), available online, doi.

  46. 46.

    Rita Kesselring, Extraction, Global Commodity Trade, and Urban Development in Zambia’s Northwestern Province: An Ethnography of Inequality and Interdependence (Zed Books, Mar. 6, 2025), paywall.

  47. 47.

    Muimba-Kankolongo et al., supra note 45.

  48. 48.

    Id.

  49. 49.

    Id.

  50. 50.

    Turner, supra note 16.

Criminalizing Ecocide: Will Corporations Change?

Introduction

As climate change accelerates and ecosystems face unprecedented destruction, existing legal frameworks have proven inadequate to prevent or meaningfully deter large-scale environmental harm. Corporations, especially transnational corporations operating across jurisdictions, play a central role in driving deforestation, pollution, biodiversity loss, and greenhouse gas emissions, often with little fear of accountability. While regulatory regimes and civil liability mechanisms have expanded, they have largely failed to constrain corporate decision-making where environmental harm is profitable, foreseeable, and externalized. Against this backdrop, a growing international movement has emerged to recognize ecocide as an international crime, elevating severe environmental destruction to the same normative field as genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes, and crimes of aggression.

In September 2024, Vanuatu, Samoa and Fiji formally proposed amending the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (ICC) to include ecocide as its fifth core crime. Proponents argue that criminalizing ecocide at the international level would close accountability gaps, deter catastrophic environmental harm, and transform corporate risk calculations by exposing senior decision-makers to personal criminal liability. In theory, the threat of international prosecution could force corporations to internalize environmental costs that have long been treated as collateral damage. Whether this ambition can be realized in practice remains deeply contested.

This comment asks a narrow, but critical question: will criminalizing ecocide under the Rome Statute actually make corporations more environmentally responsible? While the expressive and symbolic appeal of ecocide is compelling, its effectiveness depends on the ICC’s ability to detect, prosecute, and convict those most responsible for corporate environmental harm. The Rome Statute’s exclusive focus on individual criminal liability, combined with the complex, decentralized nature of corporate governance, raises serious doubts about whether senior corporate actors can realistically be held accountable under existing modes of liability. Attribution problems, evidentiary hurdles, and demanding mens rea requirements all threaten to undermine ecocide’s deterrent force when applied to corporate conduct.

This comment proceeds in seven parts. Part I traces the historical development of ecocide, its proposed legal definition, and surveys its growing adoption at the national level. Part II examines how ecocide would fit within the Rome Statute’s jurisdictional framework. Part III explores the theoretical goals of criminalizing ecocide, specifically its deterrent and expressive functions. Part IV situates corporate environmental harm as a central driver of ecological destruction. Parts V and VI analyze the practical and doctrinal obstacles to building a case of ecocide against corporate leaders. Finally, Part VII explores whether extending entity liability to corporations themselves would better serve ecocide’s underlying aims. Ultimately, this comment argues that while criminalizing ecocide under the Rome Statute carries significant expressive value, its capacity to meaningfully change corporate behavior is likely to be limited unless international criminal law confronts the structural realities of corporate power and responsibility.

I. What is Ecocide?

A. History of Ecocide

The term “ecocide” was used as early as 1970 at the Conference on War and National Responsibility in Washington.1 In 1972, speaking at the United Nations (U.N.) Stockholm Conference on the Human Environment, the Prime Minister of Sweden explicitly named the Vietnam War an “ecocide” after Agent Orange, a chemical designed to defoliate trees and destroy crops, was sprayed over Vietnam’s forests as part of a military operation.2 Agent Orange stripped bare around 20% of the country’s tropical forests.3 Many never recovered.4 Perhaps for the first time, the U.N. Stockholm Conference brought international attention on environmental issues, particularly to environmental degradation and transboundary pollution.5 A Convention on Ecocidal War took place the following year.6 At this convention, an ecocide treaty was proposed by Richard Falk to recognize “that man has consciously and unconsciously inflicted irreparable damage to the environment in times of war and peace.”7 Falk then drafted the International Convention on the Crime of Ecocide, which focused primarily on ecocide as a war crime.8

Over time, a growing number of academics and legal scholars began to advocate for the criminalization of ecocide as a “Crime Against Peace.” In the 1970s, the Sub-Commission on Prevention of Discrimination and Protection of Minorities proposed the criminalization of ecocide and cultural genocide under the Genocide Convention.9 Notably, ecocide as a Crime Against Peace was also considered in the drafting of the Code of Crimes Against the Peace and Security of Mankind, developed by the International Law Commission (ILC).10 Ultimately, a separate crime of ecocide was unilaterally removed by the ILC’s then-Chairman, leaving the ILC to decide only whether or not to include environmental damage in the context of war crimes.11 It is this ILC drafting committee that directly led to the drafting of the Rome Statute.12 Therefore, the crime of ecocide was excluded from the Rome Statute.13 The United States, the United Kingdom, and the Netherlands were the only recorded countries who officially opposed the inclusion of ecocide in the Rome Statute.14 Although the exact reason for their opposition is unclear, some scholars surmised that “nuclear arms played a decisive role.”15

The Rome Statute is the foundational treaty that created the ICC.16 It conferred subject matter jurisdiction to the ICC over “the most serious crimes of international concern”: genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes, crimes of aggression.17 It currently does not include a crime of ecocide. The Rome Statute does, however, confer environmental protections in the context of war crimes: “widespread, long-term and severe damage to the natural environment which would be clearly excessive in relation to the concrete and direct overall military advantage anticipated.”18

B. Ecocide Definition

For the purposes of this comment, we use the legal definition of “ecocide” being advanced by the Independent Expert Panel (IEP) convened by Stop Ecocide International.19 Ecocide is defined as unlawful or wanton acts committed with knowledge that there is a substantial likelihood of severe and either widespread or long-term damage to the environment being caused by those acts.20 This definition creates two thresholds for prohibited conduct. First, the act or omission causes, by a substantial likelihood, severe and either widespread or long-term damage to the environment. Second, the act or omission must be unlawful or wanton.

Ecocide creates criminal liability for severe damage with a long-term or widespread impact. Severe damage:

[I]nvolves very serious adverse changes, disruption or harm to any element of the environment, including grave impacts on human life or natural, cultural or economic resources.21

In addition to being severe, the action must also be either widespread or long-term. The impact of the damage must be extended geographically or temporally. Widespread damage:

[E]xtends beyond a limited geographic area, crosses state boundaries, or is suffered by an entire ecosystem or species or many human beings.22

This ensures that ecocide is criminalizing actions that cause transboundary effects, in line with the nature of the environment to transcend arbitrary human borders. Ecocide also criminalizes severe damage that is long-term, meaning “damage which is irreversible or which cannot be redressed through natural recovery within a reasonable time.”23 The international criminal community has an interest in criminalizing actions that cause environmental damage for future generations or for the foreseeable future. Environmental damage does not respect national borders, nor are its effects temporally limited to the present. The effects of environmental degradation ripple into the global environment and into future generations.

In addition to the severity and temporal or reach requirement, the act or omission must be unlawful or wanton. Unlawful means the action is already prohibited by law. The illegality of an action under both international and national law may be considered.24 Even for actions considered legal, wanton actions would be criminalized under ecocide law. Wanton incorporates a balancing test, as it’s a “reckless disregard for damage which would be clearly excessive in relation to the social and economic benefits anticipated.”25 This requirement ensures that social benefits are considered when evaluating extent of the damage caused. It recognizes that as human beings who live off the Earth, some damage and degradation is expected and tolerated.

C. Ecocide in National Jurisdictions

On the domestic level, more countries are considering criminalizing ecocide, or environmental harms of a similar scale. Currently, twelve countries26 criminalize ecocide or comparable environmental harm. France passed a law that criminalized “serious and lasting damage to the health, flora, fauna, or the quality of air, soil, or water.”27 Belgium explicitly defined and criminalized ecocide, with a maximum prison sentence of twenty years.28 Many other countries are advancing similar legislation and the European Union revised its Environmental Crime Directive to include offenses “comparable to ecocide.”29 Additionally, the Council of Europe adopted a convention30 that enabled prosecution of environmental destruction “tantamount to ecocide.”31

While national prosecution under ecocide law is limited, some countries have taken steps in building cases. In Ukraine, the Specialised Environmental Prosecutor’s Office of the Kharkiv Regional Prosecutor’s Office is conducting a pre-trial investigation into high-ranking Russian commanders’ responsibility for the destruction of a dam in the Kharkiv region.32 The destruction of the dam caused uncontrolled water release, damaging the environment and threatening communities located downstream:

The destruction of the Oskil Dam is not just an attack on infrastructure—it’s an attack on entire ecosystems. Holding those responsible for ecocide is essential, not only for justice but to send a clear message: deliberate environmental destruction in war will not go unpunished.33

In France, in what is being called “the EU’s first ‘ecocide’ trial,” a criminal investigation was launched after a carcinogenic chemical, over eight hundred times the legal limit, was detected in a resident’s backyard.34 There is a clear growing trend to both criminalize and prosecute ecocide.

II. Ecocide Under the Rome Statute

In September 2024, Vanuatu, Samoa and Fiji proposed the amendment of the Rome Statute to criminalize ecocide as the court’s fifth core international crime.35 Criminalizing ecocide under the Rome Statute would broaden the ICC’s protection of the natural environment to include actions taken during peacetime. Ecocide fits within Article 5’s definition of “the most serious crimes of concern to the international community as a whole.” The addition of ecocide to the Rome Statute would allow for direct prosecution for applicable actions, rather than relying on war crimes as a proxy.

A. The ICC’s Jurisdiction

The jurisdiction of the ICC is governed primarily by Article 12 of the Rome Statute. The Court may exercise jurisdiction where the conduct in question occurred on the territory of a State Party to the Statute,36 or on board a vessel or aircraft registered to a State Party, regardless of the nationality of the alleged perpetrator.37 The ICC’s jurisdiction reaches to a non-State party if that non-State Party accepts jurisdiction by an ad hoc declaration, thereby treating its territory as if it were party territory for the referred situation.38 The United Nations Security Council, acting under Chapter VII of the Charter of the United Nations, may also refer situations, in the territories of both States Parties and non-States Parties, to the ICC Prosecutor.39

The ICC’s jurisdiction is limited to natural persons.40 For corporations, this means that they escape entity liability. Instead, by attributing the actions of the corporation onto individuals, corporate leaders may face personal criminal liability. The attribution can come from a theory of indirect perpetration, where a corporate leader may be liable for committing a crime “jointly with another or through another person, regardless of whether that other person is criminally liable.”41 A corporate leader may also face criminal liability for aiding and abetting, or otherwise assisting in the commission of a crime.42 For this mode of liability, there must be a showing of the requisite mental conduct, which is “for the purpose of facilitating the commission of such a crime.”43 Additionally, a corporate leader may face criminal liability under a theory of superior responsibility.44 For a finding of superior responsibility, the law requires that the superior either:

  1. knew, or consciously disregarded information which indicated that the subordinates were committing or about to commit such crimes;45

  2. the activities concerned were within the effective responsibility and control of the superior;46 and

  3. the superior failed to take all necessary and reasonable measures within their power to prevent or repress the actions.47

The application of the theories of individual liability in a corporate context will be further analyzed in Part V.

III. Goals of the Criminalization of Ecocide Under the Rome Statute

A. Deterrence

The criminalization of ecocide under the Rome Statute may have a deterrence effect on actions that lead to grave environmental damage. There are two types of deterrence: specific and general. Specific deterrence refers to the extent to which an individual is deterred from subsequent criminal actions after facing criminal punishment themselves. General deterrence refers to spillover effect: the extent to which other individuals are deterred after the criminal punishment of other individuals. The goal is that the criminalization of ecocide under the Rome Statute will lead to both specific and general deterrence by filling the accountability gaps and establishing a much stronger deterrent against major environmental harms. From a corporation ecocide context, Jojo Mehta48 contends that criminalization will be a stronger deterrent than regulatory law, which corporations can navigate or manipulate:

Criminal law forces decision-makers to ask, before signing off on a major project: is this going to create severe harm? And if so, could I be personally criminally liable? That question is a powerful deterrent. It prompts executives to seek alternative approaches or establish clear operational boundaries. Additionally, the accusation of criminal behavior can damage both a leader’s personal reputation and the company’s value. Stock prices can fall immediately. There is a rational deterrence provided by the criminal aspect that simply does not exist in the regulatory sphere.49

The hope is that the threat of significant criminal sanctions will act as a preventative force in corporate decision-making when considering decisions that cause environmental degradation.50 Ecocide laws preemptively force businesses to consider not only human costs, but environmental costs in their decisions.51 The criminalization of ecocide disrupts the corporate “profit-at-all-costs” business strategy by adding environmental costs to the risk calculus, lest they face personal criminal liability.52 The goal is for corporations to consider the environment to reduce the need for prosecutions of ecocide. “In an ideal world, it should not be about the corporate polluter who must pay when or if he is caught, but about the corporation which does not pollute.”53 Theoretically, the criminal prosecution of a corporate individual will also impact the risk calculus of similar business decisions by other corporate actors.54

While the deterrence effect from the criminalization of ecocide is limited, empirical studies on the deterrence effect of environmental regulations offer us some perspective. A study found that environmental monitoring and enforcement activities can produce substantial specific and general deterrence. Following regulator actions, targeted facilities have increased compliance and reduced emissions for several periods.55 The study found that the deterrence spilled over to nearby facilities as well, which increased compliance in response, though the effect was limited to facilities within the same state boundaries as the targeted facility.56 In some cases, enforcement actions even resulted in increased over-compliance, including from previously noncompliant plants.57 If a fine was given to one plant, the impact of it was magnified as it strengthened other plants’ beliefs about the regulators toughness.58 In the year following a fine, there was a two-thirds reduction in the statewide water pollution violation rate, and nearly all of the deterrence was attributable to general deterrence.59

B. Expressive

Criminalizing ecocide under the Rome Statute would also serve expressive functions that go beyond instrumental deterrence by articulating and entrenching a global moral boundary against severe environmental destruction as a matter of international concern. Ecocide would communicate that catastrophic ecological harm constitutes a wrong of the same normative gravity as other core international crimes, thereby recognizing the intrinsic value of the environment and the interdependence of humans and the environment, rather than treating nature as a mere object of property or economic value.60 At the international level, an ecocide amendment would also clarify community membership and obligation. It would mark the protection of the environment as a core commitment of the international community. The hope is that ecocide will not only create legal protections for the environment but also change the global consciousness about what is acceptable practice in the destruction of the environment.61

IV. Corporation’s Environmental Harm

There is no doubt that corporations contribute significantly to environmental degradation. Corporations generate a substantial portion of the world’s greenhouse gas emissions, deforestation, pollution, biodiversity loss, and ecosystem collapse. Corporate by-products contribute to water pollution.62 The timber, paper, and pulp industries are linked to deforestation, which can lead to species extinctions.63 Leaks and wastes from oil companies have caused land depletion so severe that agriculture, forestry, and fishing is no longer possible in huge areas.64 The Carbon Majors database traced the cumulative historical greenhouse gas emissions from 1854 through 2022. The 2024 Carbon Majors Report found that, historically, just seventy-eight corporate and state producing entities are responsible for over 70% of these global carbon dioxide emissions.65 The report found that investor-owned companies were responsible for 31% of all emissions tracked by the database, with Chevron, ExxonMobil, and BP, respectively, being the three largest contributors.66

The damage is not limited to just the environment. This environmental damage also puts human lives at risk. Destruction to the environment has the capacity to decrease the human rights of entire communities. For example, the discovery of valuable natural resources can lead to exploitation of land and labor in the area, leading to destabilization, financial turmoil, violence, and repression.67 Corporations may be involved directly in exploitation, indirectly through financial investments that support violent, oppressive regimes, or by hiring security forces that commit heinous crimes against the local population.68

This damage is not merely incidental. It is the direct consequence of decisions made by the boards, executives, and shareholders of corporations. Corporations make decisions, knowing the potentially catastrophic effects those decisions may have on the environment. Exxon’s internal documents prove one example. As early as 1977, Exxon internal documents revealed that scientists had warned Exxon leaders about the global warming effect of increased carbon dioxide in the atmosphere.69 Scientists warned that “some countries would benefit but others would have their agricultural output reduced or destroyed.”70 By 1982, Exxon’s scientists confirmed emerging scientific consensus that the effects to the environment were “potentially catastrophic” and “[o]nce measurable […] might not be reversible.”71 Exxon’s response? Denial. Exxon helped to found the Global Climate Coalition: the world’s largest companies working together to stop governmental efforts to curb fossil fuel emissions.72 Exxon used right wing think tanks, campaign contributions, and its own lobbying, to push a narrative that the science on climate change was too uncertain to require cuts in emissions.73 They fueled climate change denial to continue their business at the expense of the environment.

V. The Attribution Problem

While this comment advocates for the adoption of the crime of ecocide into the Rome Statute, the success of adding the crime of ecocide in changing corporate behavior is dependent on the probability of detection, prosecution, and conviction.74 This may prove to be challenging due to the difficulties in attributing corporate actions to an individual, or group of individuals because of the complex hierarchies of entities and the collective nature of corporate decisions.

A. Attribution Under a Theory of Indirect Perpetration

A theory of indirect perpetration for individual criminal responsibility comes from Article 25(3)(a) of the Rome Statute which states that a person shall be criminally responsible and liable if that person “[c]omits such a crime, whether as an individual, jointly with another or through another person, regardless of whether that other person is criminally responsible.” In most corporate settings, it is not likely that the corporate leaders, the ones making the ultimate decisions, are also the ones committing the actions that lead to environmental damage (e.g. the corporate leaders are not the ones operating the factory that pollutes). For this reason, a theory of indirect perpetration is attractive for corporate leader liability, especially because leaders may still face liability for the actions of employees who do not face liability.

In Katanga,75 the Court elaborated on the requirements for indirect perpetration, requiring that the organization possess very specific features for its leaders to be considered under this theory of liability. The Court held that for a finding under Article 25(3)(a) of the Rome Statute, the superior need not exercise coercion or deception to dictate the actions of another, because the superior knows that “if a member of the organization refuses to comply, another will usually be available to step in and somehow ensure the execution of the orders issued.”76 In this way, the personal relationship between the superior and the executor are “inconsequential” because “the superior’s orders are automatically executed, at least on account of the interchangeability of the potential physical perpetrators.”77 Additionally, the superior must use at least part of their power to intentionally steer the organization towards the commission of a crime, “without leaving one of the subordinates at liberty to decide whether the crime is to be executed.”78

This mode of liability may, in theory, seem applicable for corporations. In corporations, the executor (be it a factory worker or a middle manager) may seem interchangeable to the corporate leaders. If an employee does not comply, corporations can hire someone else who will. However, indirect perpetration requires tightly controlled hierarchies, like the ones you find in military juntas but not necessarily at corporations. “[U]nlike military juntas which operate through direction, corporations operate through delegation.”79 Due to the fragmented hierarchies of corporations, it will be difficult to show that the highest decision-maker, someone important enough to the corporation to actually enact a change, specifically directed an act that caused environmental damage.

B. Attribution Under a Theory of Aiding and Abetting

Under Article 25(3)(c) of the Rome Statute, a person shall be criminally liable if that person “[f]or the purpose of facilitating the commission of such a crime, aids, abets, or otherwise assists in its commission or its attempted commission, including providing the means for its commission.”80 The Court requires the actus reus, which can include providing “practical assistance, encouragement, or moral support which has a substantial effect on the perpetration of the crime.”81 The greater problem is the “purpose” mens rea requirement. In the context of ecocide, it will be challenging to establish that an executive facilitated a wanton act for the purpose of committing ecocide, as opposed to a disregard for the environmental damage that may accrue from a corporate action.82

C. Attribution Under a Theory of Superior Responsibility

Article 28 of the Rome Statute offers two ways that a commander and other superiors may be criminally responsible for the actions of a subordinate. Article 28(1) provides that a:

[M]iliary commander or person effectively acting as a military commander shall be criminally responsible for crimes […] committed by forces under his or her effective command and control, or effective authority and control as the case may be, as a result of his or her failure to exercise control properly over such forces, where:

  1. [t]hat military commander or person either knew or, owing to the circumstances at the time, should have known that the forces were committing or about to commit such crimes; and

  2. [t]hat military commander or person failed to take all necessary and reasonable measures within his or her power to prevent or repress their commission or to submit the matter to the competent authorities for investigation and prosecution.83

Because this provision is for military commanders or those effectively acting as such, this provision is not applicable to corporations. However, this is the provision which the ICC Appeals Chamber evaluated in the Bemba case, analyzed below, and serves as a guide for evaluating Article 28(2), which uses similar language.

Article 28(2) provides that:

[W]ith respect to superior and subordinate relationships not described in paragraph (a), a superior shall be criminally responsible for crimes […] committed by subordinates under his or her effective authority and control, as a result of his or her failure to exercise control properly over such subordinates, where:

  1. [t]he superior either knew, or consciously disregarded information which clearly indicated, that the subordinates were committing or about to commit such crimes;

  2. [t]he crimes concerned activities that were within the effective responsibility and control of the superior; and

  3. [t]he superior failed to take all necessary and reasonable measures within his or her power to prevent or repress their commission or to submit the matter to the competent authorities for investigation and prosecution.84

In Bemba,85 the ICC’s Appeals Chamber overturned Mr. Bemba’s conviction, finding that the “all necessary and reasonable measures” requirement was not properly established.86 The duty to take all necessary and reasonable measures is:

[I]ntrinsically connected to the extent of a commander’s material ability […] Indeed, a commander cannot be blamed for not having done something he or she had no power to do.87

Commanders are not required to employ every conceivable measure, only what is necessary and reasonable.88 In assessing reasonableness, the Court is required to consider the operational realities on the ground, at the time faced by the commander.89 The Appeals Chamber held that this is not a strict liability requirement. Rather, commanders are permitted to make a cost/benefit analysis when deciding what measures to take, considering their responsibility to prevent and repress subordinates’ crimes.90 The Court is unconcerned with what the commander theoretically might have done.91 Instead, the Prosecution must show that:

[T]he commander did not take specific and concrete measures that were available to him or her and which a reasonably diligent commander in comparable circumstances would have taken.92

In assessing such reasonableness, the Appeals Chamber also found that the Trial Court paid insufficient attention to the fact that Bemba’s ability was constrained by the fact that he was a remote commander for troops operating in a foreign country.93

Applying the Bemba ruling to a corporate context, it appears that there will be considerable leeway given to corporate leaders. For transnational corporations, it is likely that the top executives, shareholders, or board members—those who ultimately set the corporation’s agenda and directives—are not residing within the same country where environmental exploitation is occurring. Instead, these top decision makers are likely to be remote and delegating the on-the-grounds operation to a middle manager. The remoteness is compounded by the collective decision-making process of corporations. Whereas militaries have structured, specified hierarchies, corporations often have delegated responsibilities and decisions are seldom made by an individual. This will make it hard to assess what was “reasonable and necessary” because there will be debate as to whose actions we are evaluating, or who bore such responsibility to begin with. Additionally, the cost/benefit analysis that is permitted may leave room for corporations to exploit the law and avoid responsibility. Corporations could hire selective experts to downplay the environmental harm that may result from a corporate plan. Corporations could implement greenwashing tactics to offset the cost/benefit analysis, while the actual environmental harm continues. Corporations could also intentionally diffuse information between top executives so that any one individual maintains plausible deniability.

VI. Statutory Hurdles

A. Actus Reus

The required actus reus under this definition of ecocide is that the corporate leader committed unlawful or wanton acts. Unlawful actions are unlikely to be attributed to corporations in this context, as corporations will at least try to adhere to the laws of the countries they are operating in.94 Additionally, the consideration of illegality under domestic laws leads to ambiguity and possible inconsistencies in regulating corporate action, as corporate leaders are managing multiple jurisdictions with conflicting legal frameworks on environmental issues.95 If an action was unlawful under a specific domestic law, national jurisdictions may be a more appropriate forum.

A showing that a corporate leader committed a wanton act of environmental damage faces challenges, specifically as wanton is defined as a “reckless disregard for damage which would be clearly excessive in relation to the social and economic benefits anticipated.” The additional requirement of a “reckless disregard” may prove unworkable in practice, as ecocide does not remove corporate legal concepts like limited liability and separate legal personality.96 It is rare that one corporate individual has enough information about an environmental consequence to recklessly disregard it. The wanton action would have to be isolated from the corporation and attributable to a particular corporate leader.

Perhaps more significantly, the balancing test ingrained in determining “wanton acts” presents a hurdle in determining the social and economic benefits anticipated, as it is unclear how a company is expected to outline the full social impact of their decisions.97 This is challenging particularly in the context of corporations, that operate in the best interests of their shareholders, not society. Ideally, we want corporations to consider the social impacts of their businesses. However, this definition of ecocide would involve “a complete reconception of the purpose of a company and specifically the role its leaders play in making business decisions.”98

B. Mens Rea

The IEP advances a narrower mens rea than the default mens rea provided in Article 30 of the Rome Statute. Article 30 reads:

A person has intent where

  1. [i]n relation to conduct, the person means to engage in the conduct and

  2. [i]n relation to the consequences, that person means to cause that consequence or is aware that it will occur in the ordinary course of events.99

Most decisions and commentators have interpreted this to require an awareness that the consequences are of a near certainty.100 The default mens rea is applicable “unless otherwise provided,”101 carving out a possibility of requiring a less stringent mens rea.

The IEP proposed a less stringent mens rea of recklessness or dolus eventualis, requiring awareness of a substantial likelihood of severe and either widespread or long-term damage.102 The IEP felt that the default mens rea would be too narrow and exclude actions that have a high likelihood of the requisite damage to the environment. Indeed, ecocide is often the result of reckless actions taken to further their goals, as opposed to a deliberate targeted environmental destruction.103 Instead, a mens rea of recklessness is “sufficiently onerous to ensure that only those persons with significant culpability for grave damage to the environment will be held responsible.”104 But again, while a corporation, like Exxon in the aforementioned illustration, may collectively have requisite mens rea, a corporate individual will have to be singled out, with that same recklessness being attributed to an individual. But who? The CEO? The manager of a polluting factory? The shareholders prioritizing profits above all else? It will be evidentiarily challenging to sort through the corporation enough to pin the liability on a single person.

VII. Would Entity Liability Help?

Some argue that the lack of corporate criminal responsibility as an entity is a hindrance towards the criminalization of ecocide being effective in the fight against corporate environmental degradation:

By focusing on and indicting individuals within a corporation, the true nature of corporate participation in international criminalities, such as ecocide, is not effectively captured, nor is the organizational wrongdoing effectively addressed.105

Instead, the blame may be deflected to lower-level staff.106 A lower-level employee may become a scapegoat, pleading guilty and serving a term of imprisonment, only to be re-hired or rewarded by the corporation or industry.107 Then, there is no guarantee that corporate policy or culture will change moving forward and the organizational wrongdoing is not effectively addressed.108 Would amending the Rome Statute to allow legal persons to face criminal liability increase the efficiency of the criminalization of ecocide influencing corporate behavior?

Corporate criminal responsibility is not a novel concept within international criminal law. Criminal liability for juridical persons, not just natural persons, was considered and rejected for various reasons in original conversations that lead to the Rome Statute’s inception.109 The original focus of the Rome Statute was to hold natural persons responsible for atrocity crimes.110 Due to a lack, at the time, of national jurisdictions holding corporations liable under criminal law, there were concerns that holding juridical persons liable under the Rome Statute would impede complementarity.111 Additionally, criminal liability for juridical persons would add to many governments’ hesitations in ratifying the Rome Statute because of the novelty of the concept and fear of consequences from multinational corporations, such as deterring economic investments in that country from those corporations.112

However, there are no conceptual barriers for holding juridical persons criminally liable under international agreements. Corporations, as legal persons, face criminal liability under numerous international criminal laws.113 The Special Tribunal for Lebanon held three TV stations in contempt for revealing the confidential names of witnesses, showing that legal persons can be subject to liability under international criminal law.114 The Tribunal justified their ruling by pointing to Lebanese law and “[a] general trend in most countries towards bringing corporate entities to book for their criminal acts or the criminal acts of their officers.”115 Most significantly, the Malabo Protocol explicitly provides for jurisdiction over legal persons: “For the purpose of this Statute, the Court shall have jurisdiction over legal persons, with the exception of States.”116

There are mixed conclusions on whether corporations should face criminal liability. One author argues that, due to the organizational complexity of corporations, prosecutions should focus on the corporation instead of the individual.117 Corporations are made up of a collection of individuals and their actions. Responsibilities are delegated, and orders are not necessarily directed outright. This structure also obscures fault but is the very justification for corporate prosecution “when the corporate form makes it difficult to establish culpability on the part of any particular individual.”118 Ultimately, corporations are benefitting from the collective action of individuals, so the action cannot be separated from the institutional framework in which it occurred.119 Corporations are also better positioned to pay restitution to the victims.120 Through the threat of entity liability, individual accountability could be enhanced and, especially in the context of ecocide, it is a worthy conversation to keep having.121

Conclusion

The proposal to criminalize ecocide under the Rome Statute reflects an urgent and morally compelling response to the scale of environmental destruction facing the planet. By recognizing severe and widespread or long-term ecological harm as a core international crime, the international community would articulate a powerful normative judgment: that the deliberate or reckless devastation of the natural world is an offense against humanity itself. As an expressive act, ecocide law has the potential to reshape the global consciousness, elevate environmental protection to a matter of international concern, and signal that catastrophic environmental harm will no longer be treated as a mere regulatory failure.

However, the promise of ecocide as a tool for transforming corporate behavior should not be overstated. This comment has shown that the effectiveness of criminalization under the Rome Statute depends on the realistic prospect of enforcement, rather than symbolic condemnation alone. The ICC’s exclusive jurisdiction over natural persons, combined with the diffuse and hierarchical nature of corporate decision-making, creates formidable attribution problems. Existing modes of liability (indirect perpetration, aiding and abetting, and superior responsibility) were developed primarily in military and atrocity contexts and fit uneasily within corporate structures characterized by delegation, collective decision-making, and strategic information diffusion. The demanding actus reus and mens rea requirements of the proposed ecocide definition further narrow the pool of prosecutable conduct, particularly where environmental harm arises from profit-driven recklessness, rather than overt intent.

As a result, the individuals most responsible for corporate environmental destruction may remain insulated from criminal liability. In this sense, criminalizing ecocide under the Rome Statute may struggle to deliver the deterrent effect its proponents envision. Without a credible threat of prosecution against those who control corporate strategy, and those who reap its benefits, the rational cost-benefit calculus of corporate decision-making is unlikely to shift in any fundamental way.

This does not mean that the ecocide project is misguided. Rather, it suggests that criminalization under the Rome Statute should be understood as a necessary but insufficient step toward corporate environmental accountability. If the international community is serious about curbing corporate-driven ecological destruction, it must confront the structural limitations of individual liability and consider complementary reforms, including the recognition of corporate entity liability or stronger integration with domestic enforcement mechanisms. Absent such reforms, ecocide risks becoming a power symbol with limited practical reach—an important moral statement but one that falls short of making corporations meaningfully more eco-friendly.

Endnotes — (click the footnote reference number, or ↩ symbol, to return to location in text).

  1. 1.

    Anja Gauger, Mai Pouye Rabatel-Fernel, Louise Kulbicki, Damien Short & Polly Higgins, Hum. Rts. Consortium, Ecocide is the Missing 5th Crime Against Peace 4 (Jun. 2013), available online.

  2. 2.

    Jojo Mehta, Ecocide Law: The Next Big Moral and Legal Shift, Stop Ecocide International (Jun. 23, 2025), available online.

  3. 3.

    Id.

  4. 4.

    Id.

  5. 5.

    Gauger et al., supra note 1, at 5.

  6. 6.

    Milena Sterio, Crimes Against the Environment, Ecocide, and the International Criminal Court, 56 Case W. Res. J. Int’l L. 223, 225 (2024), available online.

  7. 7.

    Richard A. Falk, Environmental Warfare and Ecocide: Facts, Appraisal, and Proposals, 4 Bull. of Peace Proposals 80, 93 (Dec. 1973), paywall, doi.

  8. 8.

    Sterio, supra note 6, at 225.

  9. 9.

    Id. at 225–26.

  10. 10.

    Id. at 226.

  11. 11.

    Id.

  12. 12.

    Id.

  13. 13.

    Id.

  14. 14.

    Id.

  15. 15.

    Id.

  16. 16.

    Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, Adopted by the United Nations Diplomatic Conference of Plenipotentiaries on the Establishment of an International Criminal Court, Jul. 17, 1998, U.N. Doc. A/CONF.183/9, as amended [hereinafter Rome Statute], available online.

  17. 17.

    Id. Art. 5.

  18. 18.

    Id. Art. 8(2)(b)(iv).

  19. 19.

    Stop Ecocide International is a non-profit organization composed of legal scholars whose mission is to advocate for the recognition of a ecocide.

  20. 20.

    Stop Ecocide Foundation, Independent Expert Panel for the Legal Definition of Ecocide: Commentary and Core Text (Jun. 2021) [hereinafter Core Text], available online.

  21. 21.

    Id.

  22. 22.

    Id.

  23. 23.

    Id.

  24. 24.

    Id.

  25. 25.

    Id.

  26. 26.

    Joanna Gill & Noah Anthony Enahoro, Ecocide: Should Destroying Nature be an International Crime?, Context, Dec. 13, 2024, available online.

    (From earliest adopters to latest: Vietnam, Russia, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, Belarus, Georgia, Ukraine, Moldova, Armenia, France, Belgium).

  27. 27.

    Nathalie Colin, Silvia Van Dyck & Maximilien Arnoldy, Ecocide Out of the Woods: Update from Europe and Beyond, Freshfields (Jun. 25, 2024), available online.

  28. 28.

    Id.

  29. 29.

    Mehta, supra note 2.

  30. 30.

    Council of Europe Convention on the Protection of the Environment through Criminal Law (adopted May 14, 2025, opened for signature Dec. 3, 2025), available online.

    (The Council of Europe represents forty-six member states. The treaty is now open for signature).

  31. 31.

    Mehta, supra note 2.

  32. 32.

    Ukraine Issues Notices of Suspicion to Two Russian High-Ranking Commanders for Ecocide and Other War Crimes, GRC (Feb. 27, 2025), available online.

  33. 33.

    Id.

  34. 34.

    Monica Pinna, The EU’s First “Ecocide” Trial? Toxic Chemicals Found in French Homes, EuroNews, Dec. 21, 2022, available online.

  35. 35.

    Mehta, supra note 2.

  36. 36.

    The States Parties to the Rome Statute, ASP, available online (last visited Jan. 11, 2026).

    (As of January 2026, 125 countries are State Parties to the Rome Statute).

  37. 37.

    Rome Statute, supra note 16, at Art. 12(2)(a).

  38. 38.

    Id. Art. 12(3).

  39. 39.

    Id. Art. 13(b).

  40. 40.

    Id. Art. 25(1).

  41. 41.

    Id. Art. 25(3)(a).

  42. 42.

    Id. Art. 25(3)(c).

  43. 43.

    Id.

  44. 44.

    Id. Art. 28.

  45. 45.

    Id. Art. 28(2)(a).

  46. 46.

    Id. Art. 28(2)(b).

  47. 47.

    Id. Art. 28(2)(c).

  48. 48.

    Jojo Mehta is the Co-Founder and Chief Executive of Stop Ecocide International.

  49. 49.

    Jojo Mehta, Criminalizing Ecocide: A Conversation with Stop Ecocide International’s CEO Jojo Mehta, Geo. J. Int’l Aff. (Dec. 4, 2025), available online.

  50. 50.

    Kristin Vala Ragnarsdóttir & Eleanor Sharpston, Scientists, Lawyers Unite Behind Ecocide Law, The Ecologist (Dec. 20, 2023), available online.

  51. 51.

    Ethan A. Heller, Unleashing Ecocide: Conscripting International Prosecutors into the Fight Against Climate Change, 35 Geo. Envtl. L. Rev. 89, 101 (2022), available online.

  52. 52.

    Id.

  53. 53.

    Vanessa Schwegler, The Disposable Nature: The Case of Ecocide and Corporate Accountability, 9 Amsterdam Law Forum 71, 86 (2017), available online.

  54. 54.

    Id. at 97.

  55. 55.

    Wayne B. Gray & Jay P. Shimshack, The Effectiveness of Environmental Monitoring and Enforcement: A Review of the Empirical Evidence, 5 REEP 1, 28 (2011), paywall, doi.

  56. 56.

    Id. at 25.

  57. 57.

    Id. at 26.

  58. 58.

    Id.

  59. 59.

    Id.

  60. 60.

    Rebecca J. Hamilton, Criminalizing Ecocide, WCL, 1, 30 (Aug. 2024), available online.

  61. 61.

    Stop Ecocide International, Climate Ride (Mar. 4, 2020), available online.

  62. 62.

    Schwegler, supra note 53, at 78.

  63. 63.

    Id. at 82.

  64. 64.

    Id. at 83.

  65. 65.

    Carbon Majors, The Carbon Majors Database: Launch Report 3 (Apr. 2024), available online.

  66. 66.

    Id. at 4.

  67. 67.

    Veronica Threadgill, Gaping Hole: Darning International Corporate Liability for Environmental Disasters and Human Rights, 4 ONE J 803, 804 (Mar. 2019), available online.

  68. 68.

    Id. at 804.

  69. 69.

    Neela Banerjee, Lisa Song & David Hasemyer, Exxon’s Own Research Confirmed Fossil Fuels’ Role in Global Warming Decades Ago, Inside Climate News, Sep. 16, 2025, available online.

  70. 70.

    Id.

  71. 71.

    Id.

  72. 72.

    Id.

  73. 73.

    Id.

  74. 74.

    Michael G. Faure & Katarina Svatikova, Criminal or Administrative Law to Protect the Environment? Evidence from Western Europe, 24 JEL 253, 285 (Jul. 2012), paywall, doi.

  75. 75.

    The Prosecutor v. Germain Katanga, ICC-01/04-01/07, Judgment pursuant to article 74 of the Statute (ICC TC II, Mar. 7, 2014), available online.

  76. 76.

    Id. ¶ 1408.

  77. 77.

    Id. ¶¶ 1408, 1409.

  78. 78.

    Id. ¶ 1411.

  79. 79.

    Vrishank Singhania, The Proposed Crime of Ecocide: Ignoring the Question of Liability, Opinio Juris (Feb. 16, 2022), available online.

  80. 80.

    Rome Statute, supra note 16, at Art. 25(3)(c).

  81. 81.

    Douglass Cassel, Corporate Aiding and Abetting of Human Rights Violations: Confusion in the Courts, 6 Nw. J. Int’l Hum. Rts. 304, 308 (2008), available online.

  82. 82.

    Lakshita Magar & Nikhil Verma, Closing the Accountability Gap: Corporate Ecocide and the Imperative for International Legal Reform, Virtuosity Legal (May 31, 2025), available online.

  83. 83.

    Rome Statute, supra note 16, at Art. 28(1)(a)-(b).

  84. 84.

    Id. Art. 25(2)(a)-(c).

  85. 85.

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    Id.

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    Id.

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    Core Text, supra note 20.

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