Human traffickers are rarely held accountable during or after conflict. This is dangerous for everyone

Human trafficking has become such a common element of war that its appearance when a new conflict breaks out no longer shocks as it should. Horrific, yes. But like death and destruction, unfortunately expected.

From the Lord’s Resistance Army in Uganda, Boko Haram in Nigeria, and al-Shabaab in Somalia to ISIS in Syria and Iraq, combatants have deliberately used human trafficking to supply themselves with manpower and money. They have forced captives to work, children to fight, and families to pay ransom. They have also used human trafficking to reward their forces and terrorise communities, through practices like sexual slavery, forced marriage, and systematic rape of women and girls.

Not only rebels and warlords are guilty of trafficking during war. Manas Kongpan, a Thai army general, was convicted in 2017 for his role in trafficking Rohingya refugees. He was initially sentenced to 27 years, later increased to 82 years, for crimes including human trafficking and accepting bribes. NGOs document evidence of human trafficking in conflict, for example in December 2024, Human Rights Watch released a report detailing the abduction and sexual enslavement of women and girls by Sudan’s Rapid Support Forces (RSF) and allied militias in South Kordofan. Even those sent to protect the vulnerable have been implicated. Whistleblowers exposed human trafficking by UN staff and contractors in Bosnia in the mid-1990s, and peacekeeping forces in Somalia were documented to have sexually exploited local women between 2013-14. Beyond those fighting, organised crime groups also thrive, using the chaos and vulnerability created by war as an opportunity for trafficking.

Human trafficking is now so established in conflict that, when Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, multiple awareness campaigns sprang up within days to warn governments and civil society that it was coming. Despite the warning, it happened anyway. It didn’t happen exactly how the anti-trafficking community thought it would – the scale was smaller and the prevailing form of human trafficking identified was forced labour not sexual exploitation, but it happened. There also formed a link between human trafficking and Russia’s recruitment of children to military schools such as Yunarmia and the involvement of minors within Russian armed forces and private military and security companies.

Despite our awareness and detailed documentations of trafficking in conflict, the international community of anti-trafficking actors and institutions remains largely ineffective at countering human trafficking in wartime. Neither the mainstream anti-trafficking establishment, with its domestic criminal justice responses, nor business and human rights approaches grounded in fair labour, nor the courts charged with enforcing international law and the laws of armed conflict, have managed to provide a viable response.

Yet they must. Human trafficking by combatants is a crime against humanity under international law – one of the most serious crimes there is. Tolerating it brings the whole concept of international justice into disrepute. It is essential that the international community maintains the norm that even in war some acts are unacceptable, and that justice will be served to anybody who transgresses war’s legal limits. That includes human trafficking.

Accountability: law on the books vs. law in action

International justice is one of the main mechanisms the global community has for keeping the worst crimes in check. It exists to hold people who commit atrocities to account, and to induce individuals who are about to commit atrocities to reconsider their course.

In the two decades since the ICC was established, the court has not once prosecuted someone for trafficking

In international law, the Rome Statute defines human trafficking by combatants as a type of enslavement and a crime against humanity. It empowers the International Criminal Court (ICC), which the Rome Statute established, to bring charges against commanders for acts like forced prostitution, mass enslavement, or child-soldier recruitment. Yet in the two decades since the ICC was established, the court has not once prosecuted someone for trafficking, according to the UN special rapporteur on trafficking in persons, especially women and children (Siobhán Mullall). This holds true whether using the label of enslavement, sexual slavery, or any related offense.

The closest it came was in 2012, when it convicted Thomas Lubanga, the founder of the Union of Congolese Patriots in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, for conscripting and using child soldiers. However, this act was prosecuted as a war crime under Article 8 of the Rome Statute—not as human trafficking, nor as enslavement or sexual slavery under crimes against humanity (Article 7). Although the recruitment and use of child soldiers can fall under the broader conceptual umbrella of trafficking, the ICC has so far not framed such conduct legally as "trafficking in persons."

ICC prosecutors have chosen to build their cases around more familiar charges, like murder or rape, which they judge will more easily result in conviction. While this might make strategic sense for the prosecution, by effectively folding evidence of human trafficking into other offenses, prosecutors ensure that it remains on the margins of international criminal justice.

This is both dangerous and a lost opportunity. Experience shows that impunity in one domain often fuels impunity elsewhere. If combatants get away with trafficking, it can embolden them to commit other horrors. Conversely, strong enforcement of all crimes against humanity reinforces the norm that armed actors must always act within humanitarian constraints.

This is why international justice matters. When a court manages to hold even a single perpetrator accountable, it affirms a principle that can ripple outward: no one is above the law when it comes to enslavement or trafficking other people. Each additional conviction builds a record that future generations and local courts can use to challenge any attempt to deny or downplay these abuses.

The obstacles preventing trafficking cases in the ICC

This gap between the law and reality highlights several challenges.

One is legal: to prosecute trafficking as a crime against humanity, ICC lawyers must clear a high bar of evidence. They need to show that the trafficking was part of a widespread or systematic attack on civilians orchestrated by a state or organised armed group. Not all trafficking during war reaches this threshold. For example, organised criminal groups trafficking Ukrainian refugees are not acting as part of a broader military strategy[EC1] [EC2] . Such opportunistic crimes fall outside the ICC’s framework of an organised attack on civilians. However, if it can be proved that Russian forces’ treatment of children included forced adoption and/or recruitment, this could amount to human trafficking.

Another barrier, already mentioned, is prosecutorial strategy and inertia. Even where trafficking has clearly been part of mass violence, ICC prosecutors tend to play it safe by building their cases around more well-established crimes. The irony is that while the Court’s legal texts invite an expansive approach to slavery and trafficking, in practice these crimes have been treated as niche issues, secondary to other violations.

Compounding these issues is a conceptual muddle over definitions. At the ICC, “trafficking” is not listed as a standalone offense; it is subsumed under enslavement or sexual slavery. The crime against humanity of enslavement, as set out in Elements of Crimes, includes the following element:

The perpetrator exercised any or all of the powers attaching to the right of ownership over one or more persons, such as by purchasing, selling, lending or bartering such a person or persons, or by imposing on them a similar deprivation of liberty.

An explanatory footnote states:

It is also understood that the conduct described in this element includes trafficking in persons, in particular women and children. [Emphasis added by author]

This stands in contrast to international law outside of war crimes tribunals, where human trafficking is defined by the 2000 UN Trafficking Protocol as a standalone crime that encompasses a range of exploitative practices – of which slavery is just one. The ICC’s inverted framing, which treats trafficking as essentially a subset of slavery, can cause confusion about what exactly is being addressed and prioritised. This isn’t simply an academic point. When terminology is used inconsistently, it clouds understanding and make institutions even more hesitant to engage.

Politics, power, and priorities

International justice is also constrained by politics. The ICC has long faced accusations of selective enforcement – focusing on certain countries or actors while ignoring others.

For example, in Uganda, during the long conflict with the Lord’s Resistance Army, the ICC issued arrest warrants for five LRA rebel commanders. Not one member of the Ugandan government forces was charged, despite credible reports that the army also committed serious crimes. Locals in Uganda’s conflict region warned that this one-sided justice undermined the court’s legitimacy and the prospects for peace.

With 30 suspects still at large, the ICC’s limited reach reflects less a lack of will than a structural weakness within the international legal system

Since its establishment in 2002, the International Criminal Court has opened 32 cases, issued 60 arrest warrants, and secured 11 convictions and 4 acquittals. Yet, the majority of those who have appeared before the Court have been from African states, leading to persistent criticism that the ICC disproportionately targets African defendants. While this critique has merit in terms of perception and impact, the fuller picture is more complex. The ICC’s ability to pursue justice is constrained by its reliance on state cooperation to enforce arrest warrants—cooperation that is often absent when powerful or geopolitically protected individuals are involved (Vladimir Putin is a case in point). With 30 suspects still at large and several cases dropped due to deaths, the ICC’s limited reach reflects less a lack of will than a structural weakness within the international legal system. The result is not just selective justice, but a justice system shaped by the geopolitical realities of who can be arrested, handed over, and ultimately held accountable. It should also be noted that the court has issued warrants against individuals linked to powerful states (including six Russians and even two Israelis).

Geopolitics doesn’t just shape enforcement, it shapes how we conceptualise the crimes themselves. When the global community finally agreed on a definition of trafficking in 2000, it did so by treating the issue as a transnational organised crime problem rather than a humanitarian or human rights problem. By emphasising border control and the prosecution of criminal networks, governments found common ground to cooperate. But this framing also reinforced the notion that trafficking is something for police and immigration authorities to handle, separate from the atrocities that war crimes prosecutors or human rights courts deal with. Even when trafficking happens amid war, it has often been siloed away from the mainstream conflict and human rights agenda. This compartmentalisation has further marginalised trafficking in international justice, treating it as a domestic criminal issue rather than a fundamental atrocity for international justice to confront.

Signs of a more integrated approach

Despite these grim realities, there are signs that the tide could be turning. In recent years, several initiatives show a growing resolve to confront trafficking in conflict.

In 2024, ICC Prosecutor Karim Khan took the unprecedented step of inviting public submissions on how to address “slavery crimes” under the Rome Statute – an indication that the court is exploring ways to bring cases of enslavement and trafficking within its docket. NATO approved its second policy on human trafficking in 2023. In doing so, it acknowledged that modern wars often involve trafficking and that the military has a responsibility in fighting the crime.

Likewise, the British Army has added a module on human trafficking to the training of its officers who serve as human security advisors. This signals that military forces now view the protection of civilians from exploitation as a core security concern. The United Nations Security Council has also passed resolutions (notably Resolution 2331) condemning human trafficking as a part of conflict and urging states to act. Such high-level attention reinforces that trafficking in war is a serious violation of international norms, not a secondary issue.

Confronting human trafficking in conflict is integral to upholding the broader framework of humanitarian and human rights law, as well as the laws of armed conflict. Every survivor rescued and every perpetrator held accountable chips away at impunity. Conversely, every time the world turns a blind eye to trafficking in war, it signals that some abuses are tolerable, undermining the credibility of international law.

Demanding justice for trafficking victims in war is not a diversion from other issues; it is crucial to defending the principle that even war has limits. When those who treat human beings as spoils of war are held to account, it reaffirms that even amid conflict, human dignity must be preserved.