Introduction
Genocide is widely regarded as the most severe international crime, distinguished by its legal requirement of specific intent (dolus specialis) to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group as such. This means that acts of violence, however brutal or widespread, do not constitute genocide unless they are aimed not merely at individuals, but at the targeted group’s collective existence. Defined under the 1948 Genocide Convention, this mental element makes genocide difficult to prosecute. Courts often acknowledge atrocities but refrain from labelling them as genocide due to an absence of compelling evidence that the destruction was aimed at the group itself, rather than at its members as individuals. This distinction, between group-directed and individual-directed violence, creates a high evidentiary barrier, especially when assessing the legal responsibility of third-party states who enable such campaigns. Using the case of the United Arab Emirates’ alleged support to the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) in Sudan, this article explores why proving genocide remains legally difficult despite extensive documentation of atrocities that disproportionately affect a specific ethnic group.
The Legal Framework of Genocidal Intent
Dolus specialis, the specific intent required for a conviction of genocide, demands more than evidence of violence or even discriminatory motives; it requires proof that the destruction was directed at a group as such, rather than merely at individuals belonging to that group. Victims must be deliberately targeted based on their actual or perceived membership in a protected group, with the intended outcome being the group’s physical or biological eradication, in whole or in substantial part. This stringent evidentiary standard has significantly influenced international jurisprudence. In Prosecutor v Krstić, the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia Appeals Chamber (‘ICTY’) ruled that General Krstić aided and abetted genocide in the Srebrenica massacre but was not a principal perpetrator due to lack of proof of personal genocidal intent. Though involved in planning the killings, the court held that genocidal intent requires more than targeting individuals—it demands an intent to destroy a substantial part of a group (para 595). While the court found no conclusive evidence of Krstić’s individual intent, it affirmed that genocide occurred in Srebrenica and that the Bosnian Muslim group had been partially destroyed (para 134). Recognising genocide is one threshold (para 36); proving individual responsibility for it requires a higher bar of evidence. Under Article III of the Genocide Convention, liability extends beyond direct commission (Article III(a)) to include complicity (Article III(e)); however, in all cases, the perpetrator’s intent must be directed at the destruction of the group itself or foreseeably result in such destruction. Such stringent standards raise concerns, as in today’s world of proxies and indirect warfare, exact links can be difficult, if not impossible, to prove.
The International Court of Justice’s (‘ICJ’) ruling in Bosnia v Serbia underscores that widespread atrocities could not meet the legal threshold of genocide in the absence of clear evidence of intent to destroy an ethnic group. Although the Court recognised extensive abuses across Bosnia, only the Srebrenica massacre was found as genocide (para 297). The execution of over 8,000 Bosniak men and boys reached the symbolic and numerical threshold for genocidal intent. Similar acts of ethnic cleansing elsewhere were excluded due to the Court’s interpretive caution. It stressed that even systematic violence must be clearly linked to a deliberate plan to annihilate a group, not merely displace or defeat it (para 277).
UAE Involvement in Sudan
The situation unfolding in Sudan bears disturbing similarities to the atrocities committed in Srebrenica. Mounting evidence suggests that the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) have engaged in a systematic campaign against the Masalit ethnic group, particularly in West Darfur. As in Srebrenica, the violence appears to be targeted, ethnically motivated, and organised, raising considerable concerns that a genocide may be underway. UN agencies and Amnesty International have documented a sustained pattern of attacks concentrated in Masalit-majority areas such as El Geneina. These include ethnically selective killings following identity checks, the discovery of mass graves overwhelmingly containing Masalit victims, and widespread acts of cultural erasure, like the destruction of homes, cemeteries, and religious institutions. The most alarming are persistent reports of sexual violence by RSF forces, often accompanied by slurs and threats aimed at preventing Masalit reproduction. Such acts align with recognised indicators of genocide under international law, particularly those aimed at dismantling a group’s biological continuity. A similar intent was identified in Srebrenica, where the targeted killing of Bosnian Muslim men had severe procreative consequences for the community. As noted in the cases, the destruction of a significant portion of the male population, in a patriarchal society, was found to inevitably result in the physical disappearance of the group. Many of the surviving women were unable to remarry, leading to what the court described as the community’s potential extinction. The RSF’s actions against the Masalit could potentially lead to a comparable outcome.
Despite documented evidence of the sexual assault against women and the killing of Masalit men, there is not a consistent symbolic standard as seen in Krstic. While sexual violence is undoubtedly a grave atrocity, the Krstic case and ICJ’s opinions suggest that validating the claim that certain actions undermine a group’s biological continuity requires highly specific evidence, such as demonstrable declines in birth rates or reproductive capacity. Similarly, the killing of Masalit men, though deeply terrorising and morally abhorrent, may be alternatively classified under existing legal crimes, such as war crime or act of ethnic cleansing. Although the death toll— estimated to be 15,000 Masalit civilians—may meet the numerical threshold under the Krstic precedent, one could argue that these fatalities occurred in the broader context of the RSF’s armed conflict with the Sudanese Army, rather than as a result of targeted campaign of group destruction. Despite their gruesome nature, these massacres lack the symbolic specificity—like military men who are Bosnian Muslims—necessary to meet the legal standard for proving genocide.
Where the comparison to Srebrenica becomes most poignant, however, are the parallels between Serbia and UAE. Despite credible warnings and an expanding body of evidence, external actors have continued to provide material support to the RSF. Notably, the United Arab Emirates has been repeatedly identified as a key source of arms and logistical backing. Sophisticated weaponry, like Norinco AH4 howitzers and Wing Loong drones, are traced to Emirati supply lines, with some transfers reportedly conducted via Chad—under the cover of humanitarian aid. In parallel, the ICJ ruled that Serbia was not directly responsible for the Srebrenica genocide, citing insufficient evidence that the perpetrators acted under its instructions or control. Likewise, to hold the UAE complicit in Sudan’s atrocities, the ICJ would require conclusive proof that it knowingly and intentionally supported a genocidal campaign to eradicate the group in whole or in part, not merely that it armed a proxy force engaged in conflict. Without clear evidence of shared intent, like internal directives and communications, ongoing arms transfers are more likely to be construed as reckless or politically motivated rather than as legal complicity for genocide. Therefore, while the scale and nature of RSF violence against the Masalit may resemble the atrocities in Srebrenica, the legal threshold for holding external sponsors accountable remains dauntingly high.
In May 2025, the ICJ dismissed Sudan’s case against the UAE on procedural grounds, citing the UAE’s prior reservation to Article IX of the Genocide Convention, which excluded the Court’s jurisdiction over such disputes (para 35). This is a distinct issue from the substantive merits of the case. Even if the proceedings had advanced, Sudan would face the high evidentiary threshold of demonstrating that the UAE knowingly supported the RSF’s campaign to destroy the Masalit group, not merely that it provided arms to a regional actor. Absent proof of shared intent (e.g. official directives or internal communications), even repeated arms transfers after public warnings are more likely to be interpreted as reckless, opportunistic, or politically motivated rather than complicit for genocide. In contrast to the events at Srebrenica—where specific individuals, such as General Krstić and members of the Drina Corps, were identified and prosecuted—key actors responsible within the UAE context have yet to be clearly named or held accountable. In essence, the ongoing atrocities in Sudan may reflect the same scale of horror witnessed in Srebrenica, both in nature and in impact. The legal bar for proving complicity remains high: hinging not only on what support was provided, but also on the intent behind it and the knowledge of its potential use.
Conclusion
The high evidentiary threshold for proving dolus specialis continues to obstruct accountability, particularly for third-party enablers. UAE’s alleged support to the RSF in Sudan illustrates how even overwhelming evidence of providing sustained assistance in ethnic violence may fall short of the legal standard for complicity under Article III(e) of the Genocide Convention. The Convention was crafted to prevent impunity for such crimes, but its rigid requirement for demonstrable genocidal intent renders prosecutions arduous. Courts remain reluctant to infer intent from patterns of conduct alone, even when its pattern highly resembles past genocides. The Convention risks becoming more symbolic than enforceable in contemporary conflicts characterised by indirect warfare and proxy actors. The intent of the genocidaire remains central to prosecution, but is also the most elusive element to prove, and paradoxically, the strongest shield for those who aid genocidal violence behind the scenes.
Shreya Margale is a Juris Doctor candidate at the University of New South Wales in Sydney, Australia. She earned her Bachelor of Arts in Political Science from Barnard College, Columbia University, with a concentration in international politics.
