The State Department imposed sanctions on the International Criminal Court's president and a senior trial lawyer, drawing sharp condemnation from the court and its allies, and marking the latest move in a broad campaign to dismantle the tribunal's reach over American and Israeli officials.
Secretary of State Marco Rubio announced the sanctions Tuesday, targeting ICC President Tomoko Akane, a Japanese national, and senior trial lawyer Abdoulaye Seye, a Senegalese national. The measures freeze any assets the two hold in U.S. jurisdictions or that touch the American financial system, bar them and their families from entering the United States, and cut off access to basic financial services. Rubio called the ICC "a corrupt and fatally politicized supranational court that has maliciously abused its authority and exceeded its mandate."
The court fired back Wednesday from its headquarters in The Hague, Netherlands. In a public statement, the ICC condemned the sanctions as a "flagrant attack" on its independence and vowed to continue its work "with independence and impartiality." The institution warned that when "judicial actors are threatened for applying the law, it is the international legal order itself that is placed at risk."
But the administration's position rests on a straightforward sovereignty argument: the United States has never joined the ICC. Neither has Israel. The court, Washington contends, has overstepped its mandate by investigating and seeking to prosecute senior military and political officials from countries that never consented to its jurisdiction.
The sanctions against Akane and Seye are not isolated. The Trump administration has now sanctioned nine of the ICC's 18 judges, both deputy prosecutors, the former chief prosecutor, and one other prosecution office staffer, according to the court's own accounting. The legal framework traces back to a February 2025 executive order signed by President Trump targeting the Hague-based court.
Weeks before Tuesday's announcement, Rubio previewed the broader strategy. He described a "sweeping campaign to dismantle the threat posed by the International Criminal Court to U.S. sovereignty" and said he would pressure the court's 125 member states to withdraw, sanction organizations that work with the tribunal, and ban ICC staff from traveling to the United States.
The State Department went further in a written statement, warning it "stands ready to take additional measures, if necessary, to systematically dismantle the ICC until it is incapable of threatening American sovereignty."
That is not diplomatic throat-clearing. It is a stated policy objective, backed by a growing list of sanctioned officials and a diplomatic pressure campaign that has already produced results.
Venezuela and Chad have both announced plans to leave the ICC. They are the most recent of five countries that have declared their intention to withdraw in the past year, though under ICC rules it takes a full year for any departure to become official. The court has expressed concern over the precedent those departures set.
The driving force behind Washington's confrontation with the court is the ICC's September 2024 arrest warrant for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu over the war in Gaza. The court also issued a warrant for former Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant. The Trump administration has made clear that it considers those warrants illegitimate exercises of authority over a non-member state.
The ICC has also investigated alleged U.S. war crimes in Afghanistan and Iraq, another sore point for an administration that views the court as a political instrument wielded against democracies that never signed on to its jurisdiction. China and Russia, notably, have also refused to join the court.
The ICC's own internal credibility problems have not helped its case. The prosecutor who sought the Netanyahu arrest warrants was suspended over sexual misconduct findings, a fact that undercuts the court's claims to moral authority even as it demands deference from non-member nations.
The practical consequences of U.S. sanctions reach well beyond diplomatic symbolism. Canadian judge Kimberly Prost, who was sanctioned last year, told the Associated Press that she lost access to her credit cards after the designation. Even her Amazon Alexa stopped responding to her.
Prost described the effect in blunt terms:
"Your whole world is restricted."
The sanctions work because the U.S. financial system is so deeply woven into global commerce that even officials based in The Hague cannot easily avoid its reach. Any asset that passes through an American bank, payment processor, or financial institution can be frozen. That makes the sanctions a powerful tool, one that turns routine transactions into potential compliance violations for anyone doing business with a sanctioned individual.
Japan's Foreign Ministry pushed back on the measures Wednesday. Press secretary Toshihiro Kitamura called the sanctions "very unfortunate" and said Japan "has consistently supported the ICC in its efforts to prosecute and punish the most serious crimes of concern to the international community and to uphold the rule of law." He added that Japan would remain "committed to strengthening the rule of law in the international community, while maintaining communication with related countries."
The response from Tokyo carries diplomatic weight. Akane is a Japanese national, and the sanctions against a sitting ICC president from a close U.S. ally add friction to the bilateral relationship, even as Japan chose measured language rather than a direct confrontation.
The legal battle has also moved into American courts. Last week, Human Rights Watch and three other organizations filed a federal lawsuit in the Southern District of New York, the federal court in Manhattan, challenging the Trump administration's campaign against the ICC. The complaint targets Trump's executive order from last year and also challenges U.S. sanctions issued against a U.N. human rights expert and three Palestinian rights groups.
The plaintiffs called the administration's actions a "blatantly illegal attack on international justice" that "should be struck down." Balkees Jarrah, Human Rights Watch's Middle East and North Africa director, framed the sanctions as "the latest example of the Trump administration's utter contempt for international law and a naked attempt to shield American and Israeli officials implicated in serious crimes from justice."
That characterization reveals the real fault line. Groups like Human Rights Watch believe the ICC should have authority to investigate and prosecute officials from any country, regardless of whether that country consented. The Trump administration, and, for that matter, every U.S. administration that has declined to join the court, holds the opposite view: that no international body can claim criminal jurisdiction over American citizens or officials without American consent.
The Netanyahu arrest warrant saga sharpened that divide. When a foreign court issues warrants for the leader of a U.S. ally over a military conflict, the question stops being abstract. It becomes a test of whether sovereign nations or international tribunals get the final word.
Rubio, in remarks reported by multiple outlets, put the administration's view plainly: ICC officials "believe that they should be in charge of your laws, of your country, your life, and they don't care whether or not you agree."
The broader Gaza conflict continues to shape the political landscape around these decisions, with the ICC's warrants functioning as a persistent irritant in U.S.-Israeli diplomatic coordination.
The ICC's defenders frame the sanctions as an assault on international justice. Its critics, including the government that underwrites much of the global financial system, see a court that claims jurisdiction over nations that never agreed to submit to it, led by officials whose own institution has faced serious internal misconduct, and backed by advocacy groups that treat sovereignty as an obstacle rather than a principle.
Nine of 18 judges sanctioned. Five countries heading for the exits. A federal lawsuit in Manhattan. A diplomatic rift with Japan. The confrontation between Washington and The Hague is no longer a policy disagreement. It is a sustained, escalating campaign, and the administration has made clear it is not finished.
When a court nobody elected tries to arrest leaders nobody asked it to judge, the people who actually fund the global order are entitled to say no.
