A recent column in E-Tangata asks a pointed question: why hasn’t New Zealand sanctioned Israel?
The answer it offers is compelling but incomplete. It frames New Zealand’s position not simply as political alignment, but as the product of a deeper structural reality: that as a settler-colonial state, New Zealand is predisposed to shield another.
That is a serious claim. It deserves to be taken seriously, and robustly tested.
A Structural Argument — and Its Limits
The settler-colonial thesis, as applied here, is expansive. It seeks to explain not just outcomes, but the underlying logic of policy: why some actions are taken, and others are not.
But it also faces a problem of precision.
If structural identity explains inaction, it must also explain action. Yet New Zealand has not remained inert. It has imposed targeted sanctions on Israeli actors, publicly criticised settlement expansion, and provided substantial humanitarian support to Gaza.
These are not trivial measures. Nor are they easily reconciled with a claim of structural incapacity.
The difficulty is that the framework can accommodate any outcome: full sanctions would be evidence of moral awakening; limited sanctions, of managed legitimacy; inaction, of structural alignment. A theory that explains all possible behaviours ultimately predicts none — and a theory that predicts none cannot meaningfully guide analysis or policy.
That does not mean structural factors are irrelevant. But it does suggest they are insufficient as a primary explanation for policy choice in this case.
The Threshold for Sanctions
Sanctions are not simply moral signals. They are coercive instruments, typically grounded in either multilateral consensus or clear legal determination.
There is no shortage of serious allegations. Reports by Francesca Albanese, findings from UN investigative bodies, and analyses by organisations such as Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International, and B’Tselem have all contributed to an increasingly severe body of criticism.
These are not marginal voices. They shape the international legal and moral landscape. But they remain interpretive bodies, often advancing sharply contested legal and factual claims, and their conclusions are not immune from criticism, methodological challenge, or evidentiary dispute. They do not in themselves establish the legal thresholds that states typically rely on for coercive measures.
New Zealand is also a party to the Genocide Convention, which raises a further question: whether obligations to prevent genocide may arise once a serious risk is identified, including through provisional measures issued by the International Court of Justice.
That debate is real. Some argue that the ICJ’s finding of “plausibility” is sufficient to trigger positive obligations.
But New Zealand’s practice reflects a more cautious position: that while such findings heighten diplomatic and humanitarian responsibilities, coercive measures such as broad sanctions remain tied to clearer legal determinations, specifically those that meet consistent thresholds capable of cross-case application. This is not a denial of risk; it is a distinction about thresholds for state action.
That distinction is contestable, as almost all are, but it is principled.
Specific Allegations and the Question of Instrument
The E-Tangata article raises specific claims about the treatment of detainees and proposed legislation relating to the death penalty.
On the latter, the argument advanced by Mariam Barghouti — that such legislation risks criminalising not only acts of violence but the political condition of being Palestinian under occupation — is a serious one. It reframes the issue from punishment of conduct to the potential codification of status.
On detainee treatment, reports including those of Francesca Albanese have alleged practices such as waterboarding, prolonged stress positions, and severe deprivation under policies associated with Itamar Ben-Gvir and Israeli prison authorities. These allegations are extensively documented and, if proven before a competent tribunal, would constitute serious violations of international law.
But acknowledging the weight of these claims does not resolve the question of response.
New Zealand has historically addressed such issues through diplomatic pressure, multilateral engagement, and targeted sanctions rather than comprehensive state-level measures. The question is not whether abuses warrant response (they do) but whether broad sanctions are the appropriate and effective instrument, and whether applying them in a selective manner reinforces or weakens the legal norms they are intended to uphold.
A Framework for Consistency
If sanctions are to function as instruments of international law rather than expressions of political preference, they require a consistent framework: a defined legal threshold grounded in adjudication rather than competing interpretations, standards capable of application across cases rather than confined to a single conflict, and — where possible — multilateral grounding.
This is not an argument against action. It is an argument for coherence.
Some advocates propose the ICJ “plausibility” standard as such a threshold. That is a serious and defensible position. But adopting it would require New Zealand to apply the same standard globally — including in cases where doing so would carry significant strategic and economic consequences.
Absent that broader commitment, the risk is not only inconsistency, but the gradual transformation of sanctions into reactive tools shaped by political mobilisation rather than stable legal criteria.
The Constraints of a Small State
New Zealand’s foreign policy has historically relied on acting through coalitions and institutions rather than unilateral measures. Where it has imposed sanctions, it has typically done so alongside partners or within a broader multilateral framework.
This reflects not simply preference, but capacity. A small state’s leverage is greatest when it reinforces shared rules, not when it acts in isolation.
What Would Change the Calculation?
The question is not whether New Zealand’s position is fixed. It is what would justify a shift.
Three developments would materially alter the policy landscape.
First, the emergence of a sufficiently robust evidentiary record — one that establishes not only the plausibility of violations, but a consistent, independently verifiable pattern meeting defined legal threshold across multiple sources.
Second, the articulation of a coherent and internationally applicable sanctions framework, grounded in criteria capable of consistent cross-case application rather than confined to a single conflict.
Third, a clear demonstration that sanctions would function as a meaningful instrument of influence rather than a symbolic gesture — that is, that they would contribute to altering state or actor behaviour rather than primarily signalling moral position.
Absent these conditions, the case for unilateral, comprehensive sanctions rests on a claim of exceptionalism: that this conflict should be treated differently from others without a corresponding framework to justify that distinction.
That is a high bar — and one that cannot be met by urgency alone.
A Difficult Balance
New Zealand’s current approach is open to criticism. It is limited. It is, in some respects, unsatisfying.
But it reflects an attempt to hold together two commitments that are often in tension: responsiveness to human suffering, and adherence to a rules-based international order that depends on consistency as much as conviction.
The alternative is not simply stronger action. It is a system in which enforcement thresholds shift with political pressure, where legal standards are invoked selectively, and where the durability of international norms is weakened by their uneven application.
That is not a more moral system. It is a more fragile one.
