Digital Warfare: Prisoners of War, Propaganda, and Accountability

Abstract

In the sprawling labyrinth of modern warfare, where battles are no longer fought solely in trenches and on distant battlefields, a new arena has emerged: the digital world. Social media platforms, once designed to connect individuals across the globe, have evolved into powerful tools for psychological warfare. On 5^th of June 2024, the Russian Media outlet, TASS, took to air what they believed to be egregious human rights violation being committed by the Ukrainian army. The bulk of the emphasis was on the use of social media platforms, primarily Twitter and Facebook, to circulate the images of the Russian Prisoners of Wars online (hereinafter referred to as PoWs). This opened up a new Pandora’s box for the IHL commentators. The primary question remained quite simple yet complex at the same time? Did the Third Geneva Convention sufficiently, drafted at a time when the use of social media remained anything but conceivable, adequately redress the growing challenges presented by modern day conflicts? How did Article 13 sufficiently safeguard the PoW’s right to respectful treatment and protection from “public curiosity”, in the age where public curiosity drove the digital corpus? And finally, could there be any individual accountability for those engaging these platforms to disseminate this imagery online, albeit only with “innocent intentions”?

This paper aims to investigate just that. First, it discerns the relationship between social media platforms and IHL, particularly in the context of the growing “digital warfare” where sharing imagery of captured soldiers online has become a tool to demoralize the morale of the “enemy”. It then shifts to the actual implication of the “propaganda machinery”, or in simpler words, the use of platforms such as Facebook and Twitter to advance military rhetoric, hire soldiers, and incite the “insatiable desire to wage war”. Third, it analyses the complicity of the CEOs of these platforms in “aiding and abetting” the warmongering impulses of those who flagrantly violate IHL, and if that mandates any legal action. Finally, it proposes a policy recommendation to the existing scheme of the IHL edifice to ensure that the sarcomatous law evolves adequately with the needs of the hour.

The Treatment of Prisoners of War: To Share or Not to Share?

The humane treatment of Prisoners of War and protection from public curiosity is provided under Article 13 of the Geneva Convention III.[1] This provision captures a fundamental tenet of the IHL that members of armed conflict, irrespective of whether or not they are protected persons, should be treated with dignity and respect alike. According to Droege, these provisions came into being following the horrors of the previous two world wars, which had edged humanity to the very precipice of Armageddon.[2] Accounts of this mistreatment can also be found in the works of the British historian Heather Jones, who documented the reprisals experienced by the British PoWs in German custody during the Great War.[3] At the outset of the “propaganda war,” subjection of PoWs to degradation became a tool for what Jones describes as reciprocal brutalization – a tactic deployed by those higher in command to use PoWs to sway public opinion as well as demoralize the enemy.[4] The mistreatment of the German PoWs at the Allied end ( case in point, use of German prisoner labour in North Africa by the French), simulated the repeat of the same stint at the other side of the camp, leading to the phenomenon of cyclical violence against the PoWs as well as their public humiliation.[5] It was in this context that the 1949 Convention emerged, containing 143 articles – 46 more than its predecessors. [6] The purpose of this was supposed to be plain and simple – protecting PoWs from reprising action and safeguarding their dignity and honour from those with a thirst to demean it.

While Article 13 of the GC III lays down comprehensive framework of protecting PoWs from all sorts of demeaning actions during times of war, including but not limited to insults, public curiosity, degrading treatment, acts of violence or intimidation, and insults, this provision has come under significant challenge in the context of modern-day conflicts.[7]

The war in Ukraine is a primary example of that. Ukrainian social media handles, particularly its army Twitter account, The Defense of Ukraine, has been employed repeatedly by President Zelensky as part of Ukraine’s strategy to mobilise the international community against “Russian aggression”.[8] Videos showcasing Russian PoWs in compromising positions – trying to escape the Ukrainian onslaught, publicly apologizing for “daring to step on Ukrainian territory, advising Kremlin to stop the war – have been posted regularly to the site. [9] In fact, Ukraine’s Western Allies have repeatedly used this imagery to showcase the staunchness of the Ukrainian defence and Russia’s “ill preparation” in having waged the war. [10]

But this raises a very straightforward question: Does the GC III allow the release of this imagery primarily in the context of what Charles Dunlap defines as the effort to “demoralize an immoral enemy”?[11] The simple answer would be no. The ICRC has been opposed to the release of images of POWs even for advocacy, regardless of the contentious discussion about the public interest in placing such content online.[12]

However, the ICRC’s 2020 commentary on Article 13 recognizes that there are exceptional cases when the interest of the public to be informed about the POWs will be of greater concern than the general rule.[13] This includes where such imagery is being shared to “narrate human rights abuses, rebut false information or inform of one’s condition to the family kin”. But this in itself presents a major conundrum for human rights lawyers. As Droege notes, these exceptions do not adequately cover the issue of consent and willingness.[14] Especially, if videos of PoWs are being published online to “rebut false information”, it is most likely in favour of the enemy narrative. In such circumstances, letting their statements go online can create a whole new quagmire for these soldiers when they return home, exposing them to the threat of persecution if the statements that they published during their time in captivity outrightly deny their state’s narrative. It is in this context that even proponents of using PoWs for military advantage, such as Dunlap, advise caution in publishing any political statements coming from a PoW’s mouth.

Another lens of looking at the general breaches of Article 13 occurring in modern conflicts is the general obscurity governing this provision. As Meyer notes, the true meaning of the provision remains shrouded in ambiguity.[15] Unlike its sister provisions, Article 13 was not redrafted in 1977. Thus, the primary law governing the treatment of PoWs emerged before the advent of video cameras, let alone ubiquitous social media platforms. This in itself makes the law ill-suited to govern modern day wars, where online sharing is not just a reality of war but an indispensable part of it.

Social Propaganda or War Supporting Activity?

This brings us to the second facet of our problem – the use of social media to promote war rhetoric. Under even the strictest definitions of IHL, propaganda is not inherently unlawful. Article 37 of the Additional Protocol I (API) acknowledges that deception during hostilities is permissible, provided it does not breach other fundamental IHL principles.[16] In this sense, propaganda can be seen as a legitimate tool of warfare, designed to mislead or confuse the enemy, disrupt morale, or hinder military objectives.

However, the line between acceptable military deception and unlawful propaganda can often become blurred, especially when the objective of the information operation shifts from military advantage to the manipulation of civilian populations. The use of disinformation to deceive or disorient enemy forces may be acceptable in certain contexts, but its application becomes problematic when it undermines the core principles of IHL—specifically, the protection of civilians, the humane treatment of combatants, and the provision of humanitarian aid.

One of the gravest breaches of IHL occurs when propaganda is used to obstruct the delivery of humanitarian aid. The intentional spread of fake news or the disruption of relief efforts can exacerbate suffering and complicate the work of organizations like the International Red Cross, whose mission is to provide aid impartially and without obstruction.[17] Propaganda designed to prevent the movement of humanitarian convoys or demonize neutral actors is not only unethical but also illegal, as it directly impedes the very essence of IHL: the protection of civilian life and dignity.[18]

The appearance of images of deceased enemy fighters on social networks is another egregious violation of IHL. That is why Article 34 of the API explicitly prohibits one from provoking the curiosity of the public regarding the deceased.[19] The rationale behind this provision is clear: any human remains left behind after the conflict must be accorded the deserved dignity and should not be subjected to display or be used in a manner that they were used during war, as weapons of propaganda, or in intimidating people.

But this becomes a slippery slope. In the context of modern warfare, the documentation and publication of dead bodies is not only a tool to intimidate “the enemy” but also an indispensable apparatus in documenting war crimes. For instance, as per Ukrainian law enforcement’s report, over 67005 war crimes have been registered against the Russian Federation due to their publication by private users on platforms like Facebook and Twitter.[20] Similarly, the TikTokfication of war crimes by Israeli soldiers has provided massive momentum to the Palestinian advocates in tracing the perpetrators behind the atrocities being committed in Gaza. [21]

But what if this documentation and publication is being done with the intent of reprisal? For starters, the law on this matter is pretty black and white. Any call for violence against non-combatants (civilians) or injured enemy personnel or other captured personnel not directly engaged in hostilities is against the principles of IHL. Part IV, Section C of the Additional Protocol I (API) explicitly prohibits actions designed to instill terror within the civilian population.[22] The International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) reinforced this principle, holding commanders accountable for inciting terror among civilians. In the case of Prosecutor v. Stanislav Galić,[23], it was conclusively determined that such acts are war crimes. The same legal rationale extends to information operations that aim to spread fear through threatening rhetoric—whether it’s incitement to violence, calls for the execution or torture of prisoners, or vague threats targeting civilians. These are violations not only of humanitarian principles but also of the core tenets that underpin the protection of innocent lives in times of conflict

The next issue then pertains to the algorithmic tools that are promoting content relating to warfare. According to the Tallinn Manual on Cyber Warfare, social media platforms, which allow or do not block content that contributes to the dissemination of IHL infringements, can become the direct participants in the violation of IHL in cases when such material may lead to potential harm.[24] A notable example of this can be seen in the role Facebook played during the Syrian Uprising, where videos glorifying violence and encouraging extremist actions circulated widely, are often considered emblematic of the metaphorical Paul Revere’s ride[25]. As the Tallinn Manual suggests, these platforms, by failing to act, become enablers of unlawful conduct, extending the battlefield into the digital realm and complicating accountability mechanisms in international law.

Besides the diffusion of violent content, the action of recruiting members through social media adds a new face to the problem. The use of social networks, chat rooms, and encrypted messaging applications is becoming more common for the recruitment of new fighters and promoting radical ideas. Recruiting persons under the age of 15 is prohibited by the provisions of Article 77(2) of API and Article 4.3(c) of APII.[26] The provisions are flagrantly violated when the recruitment of children or other vulnerable individuals is facilitated through the manipulation of propaganda or the use of “grooming” tactics. Armed groups exploit social media platforms to subtly influence individuals, often preying on their vulnerabilities, and draw them into conflict by tracking users’ behavior and preferences. A primary example of this could be seen in the form of the “What’s your Warrior?” campaign launched by the US Army in 2019. The campaign, which aimed to “engage Gen Z,” utilised the algorithmic preferences of children aged 14-17 to showcase the “extensive range of roles” that the military could offer to the “pragmatic minds”.[27] While the US military’s defense argued that this campaign was targeted towards a more “mature audience”, algorithmic tools suggested that the bulk of the audience that advertising reached were children below the age of 15.

The Issue of “Civilian Innocence”

The final part of this paper will discern the legal implications for civilians who use social media platforms to advance military objectives. Article 51 of the Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions (API) lays down the criterion that permits an attack on a civilian if such a person actively engages in hostilities.[28] In the contemporary landscape, however, the rise of social media has blurred the once-clear lines between combatants and civilians. This digital evolution has created an environment where civilians can easily engage in activities that directly influence combat operations. The International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) provides a framework for assessing when a civilian’s actions qualify as direct participation in hostilities.[29] According to the ICRC, there are three key criteria that must be met for an act to be deemed an ‘act of war’: First, the act must be capable of causing specific harm to the military operations or organization of the enemy; second, the harm caused must be a direct consequence of the act itself; and third, the act must be intended to provide a strategic advantage to one belligerent at the expense of the other. These criteria serve as the foundation for evaluating the involvement of civilians in contemporary warfare, particularly in the context of online engagement through social media.

In the digital environment, everyone who can either actively participate in the fighting by providing intelligence, for example, sharing the tactical information, or indirectly influence the situation by sharing geolocation pictures of the enemy positions, is a potential combatant. According to Schmitt, for instance, a civilian who posts a photograph of enemy forces that can be used to launch an airstrike will meet the threshold of direct participation.[30] The image, by providing vital targeting information, directly facilitates a military strike, satisfying both the requirement of harm to military operations and the causal link between the act and the harm. This analysis, drawn from Schmitt’s work on direct participation, aligns with the ICRC’s Interpretive Guidance, which recognizes that civilians engaged in activities like transmitting targeting information or obstructing military logistics are deemed to be directly participating in hostilities. However, this raises critical legal and ethical questions regarding the treatment of such civilians. While these individuals may be targeted as legitimate military objectives, the application of force against civilians involved in digital warfare complicates the principles of proportionality and precaution in attack, which are central tenets of IHL.

The principle of proportionality, as outlined in Article 51(5) of API, prohibits attacks that cause incidental civilian harm exceeding the anticipated military advantage.[31] In the case of civilians participating through social media, the line between necessary military advantage and excessive harm becomes increasingly blurred. Civilians posting tactical information may not fully comprehend the extent of their involvement or the potential consequences, thereby complicating military decision-making. Regarding the question of civilian immunity from attack, Schmitt underlines that direct participation in hostilities results in the loss of civilian immunity from attack. However, hunting citizens due to their activity on social networks, the consequences of which could be fatal, but secondary or accidental in most cases, provokes ethical and legal issues concerning the principle of proportionality.[32]

Furthermore, civilians’ use of social media further complicates these issues. In conflict zones, where large and densely populated civilian populations are often present, military forces may resort to less precise methods of attack to neutralize perceived threats, particularly when they are unable to differentiate between combatants and civilians. This situation raises significant concerns regarding compliance with Article 57 of the Additional Protocol I (API), which mandates the obligation to take all feasible precautions to minimize harm to civilians during military operations.[33] Social media outlets convey an overwhelming amount of information, which makes it highly challenging for the military to evaluate the reliability of intelligence and to conclude whether an attack is proportionate. It becomes nearly impossible to distinguish between genuine military goals and civilian pursuits. As Schmitt mentions, “harm to the enemy” means the direct infliction of violence and any activity that interferes with the operation of the military. [34]In this regard, the civilians who perform what appear to be innocent activities, including providing information about their location or assisting the communication between the warring factions, may be held to contribute to the hostilities and, therefore, become legitimate targets.[35]

In light of these complexities, it becomes evident that states must craft robust frameworks to scrutinize civilian involvement in hostilities. This requires a more nuanced understanding of what constitutes direct participation, especially in the ever-evolving landscape of cyberspace. Schmitt aptly argues that civilian employees and contractors, who take part in military operations and lack the shield of lawful combatant status, are, in fact, engaging in unlawful conduct.[36] Yet, how we classify these actions depends largely on the nature of the involvement itself. This brings us to the growing influence of technology—civilian participation in warfare is no longer confined to the battlefield but is now quietly seeping into the digital realm. As a result, there’s an urgent need for clearer definitions of what constitutes direct participation in hostilities in this new age. While the ICRC’s guidance on the direct causal link between an act and its consequences offers a solid foundation, it requires adjustments to reflect the unique aspects of modern warfare that stand in stark contrast to the traditional methods of combat.[37]

Accountability Under IHL: State Responsibility and the Role of the ICC

The need to hold social media executives accountable under the principles of aiding and abetting war crimes is rooted deeply in the jurisprudence of both the ICC and the ICTY. Aiding and abetting, at its core, involves assisting or encouraging another to commit a crime, with full knowledge that it is taking place. A striking example is the case of Charles Taylor, who was indicted for providing material support to rebel groups engaged in gross human rights violations.[38] His actions, in aiding these groups with weapons and resources, ultimately played a key role in fueling the atrocities in Sierra Leone. In much the same way, social media platforms serve as modern-day facilitators of violence, offering not just the space but the very mechanisms that amplify content designed to incite violence, recruit fighters, and spread misinformation during conflicts. The algorithms at play on these platforms reward extreme, polarizing content — even that which is violent or bigoted — in the name of user engagement. This tendency is only exacerbated by the sheer scale of these platforms, which, when left unchecked, can lead to catastrophic consequences for populations already caught in the throes of conflict. The parallel between the role of social media platforms and that of individuals like Taylor becomes undeniable: both are complicit in the escalation of violence, albeit through different means.

The doctrine of aiding and abetting, often linked to those directly engaged in the commission of crimes, has evolved over time. It now extends to those who, even from the periphery, contribute to the commission of such crimes. Take, for example, the role of social media executives — the strategic decision-makers who control the flow of information across digital platforms. These individuals wield immense power, often deciding what content thrives and what gets suppressed. The platforms they manage have, on several occasions, facilitated the spread of harmful material: calls to violence, messages of hatred, and recruitment drives by groups like ISIS or militant factions in Myanmar. One glaring example is the 2017 Rohingya genocide. Facebook, despite being well aware of the hate speech circulating on its platform, faced severe criticism for its role in amplifying violence against the Rohingya by not mediating the speech of violent Buddhist monks. According to an Amnesty Report, Facebook’s role wasn’t passive; it was the very structure that fed the flames of hatred and violence.[39]The message here is clear: through control over algorithms, moderation policies, and the very business models that keep these platforms profitable, social media executives are, knowingly or unknowingly, facilitating violations of International Humanitarian Law (IHL). Their awareness of the reach and impact of the content that circulates on their platforms only strengthens the argument for applying aiding and abetting principles in these cases.

The issue of corporate responsibility, particularly regarding social media executives, in the context of international criminal law, is becoming increasingly significant, as case law evolves to hold individuals accountable for enabling crimes. Social media platforms, often run by large corporate entities, provide the infrastructure that can amplify harmful content, including propaganda, hate speech, and incitement to violence. In the case of CEOs, such as Mark Zuckerberg, Facebook’s overarching control and strategic decisions can be seen as contributing materially to the spread of content that leads to war crimes, genocide, or crimes against humanity.[40] Like the CEO in the Zyklon B Case, Zuckerberg’s decision to expand Facebook’s presence in Myanmar provided a platform that enabled the Myanmar military to propagate hate and violence against the Rohingya, potentially satisfying the actus reus of complicity.[41]

The question of whether the CEO had the requisite knowledge of the criminal use of the platform remains central to establishing criminal liability. In Zuckerberg’s case, while the actus reus may be plausible, the mens rea—knowledge of the incitement—is more difficult to prove. However, at lower levels of the corporate hierarchy, such as managers, there is a clearer case for complicity. Managers, who make operational decisions, may be more aware of the misuse of platforms and could be held responsible if they ignored warnings about the platform’s role in inciting violence.[42] On the other hand, content moderators, typically lower-ranking employees, have a more limited role in decision-making and are less likely to be held liable for complicity, as their responsibility is more focused on day-to-day content management.[43]

Conclusion

The interwoven relationship between social media and international humanitarian law is an undeniable force in today’s era of armed conflict. From the treatment of prisoners of war under Article 13 of GCIII to the outright prohibition of propaganda that undermines humanitarian principles, social media has evolved into both a battleground and a weapon in modern warfare. The very fabric of the principle of distinction — the clear divide between combatants and civilians — is increasingly blurred as non-state actors use these platforms to engage in hostilities. Issues such as proportionality and accountability are now more challenging than ever, as the lines between lawful and unlawful conduct become harder to discern. Institutions like the International Criminal Court (ICC) become crucial, offering a legal recourse when states fail to uphold justice in these complex new realities.

But it is not just the combatants in the field who must face the consequences of violations. The role of social media executives in enabling or exacerbating war crimes calls into question the level of accountability in the digital era. With the power to shape narratives and facilitate the spread of harmful content, these executives stand at the crossroads of responsibility. Despite their influence, there remains a striking absence of legal and moral accountability in many of these cases, highlighting a significant gap in both law and ethics.

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2. Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions (8 June 1977), Article 37, 1125 UNTS 3.
3. Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions (8 June 1977), Article 51(4), 1125 UNTS 3.
4. Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions (8 June 1977), Article 57.
5. Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions (8 June 1977), Article 77(2), 16 ILM 1391.
6. Additional Protocol II to the Geneva Conventions (8 June 1977), Article 4.3(c), 16 ILM 1442.
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13. ICRC, ‘Geneva Convention III Commentary on Prisoners of War’ (23 July 2020) https://blogs.icrc.org/law-and-policy/2020/07/23/gciii-commentary-prisoners-of-war/ accessed 16 December 2024.
14. International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), ‘Rule 6: The Principle of Distinction Between Civilians and Combatants’ (Customary IHL) https://ihl-databases.icrc.org/pt/customary-ihl/v2/rule6 accessed 17 December 2024.
15. Joelle Rizk and Sean Cordey, ‘What We Don’t Understand About Digital Risks in Armed Conflict and What to Do About It’ (27 July 2023) https://www.examplelink.com accessed 17 December 2024.
16. Jean-Marie Henckaerts, ‘GCIII Commentary: ICRC Unveils First Update in Sixty Years’ (18 June 2020).
17. Michael N. Schmitt, Tallinn Manual on the International Law Applicable to Cyber Warfare (Cambridge University Press 2013).
18. Michael N. Schmitt, ‘Deconstructing Direct Participation in Hostilities: The Constitutive Elements’ (2010) 42 NYU J Int’l L & Pol 697.
19. Michael N. Schmitt, ‘Humanitarian Law and Direct Participation in Hostilities by Private Contractors or Civilian Employees’ (2005) 5 Chi J Int’l L 511.
20. Middle East Eye, ‘Israel Soldiers Document War Crimes on Social Media in Gaza, New Documentary Reveals’ https://www.middleeasteye.net/news/israel-soldiers-document-war-crimes-social-media-gaza-new-documentary accessed 17 December 2024.
21. Prosecutor v Charles Taylor, Judgment on Immunity, (Sierra Leone Special Court, 31 May 2004), Case No. SCSL-03-01.
22. Prosecutor v Stanislav Galić (International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, Trial Chamber) Case No IT-98-29-T, 5 December 1999.
23. Sandrine Tiller, Pierrick Devidal and Delphine van Solinge, ‘The ‘Fog of War’… and Information’ (30 March 2021) https://www.examplelink.com accessed 17 December 2024.
24. Sthinktank.com, ‘Digital Deployment: How Social Media Can Reshape Modern Military Recruitment’ (30 July 2024) https://sthinktank.com/2024/07/30/digital-deployment-how-social-media-can-reshape-modern-military-recruitment/ accessed 17 December 2024.
25. Toumani, Razan, “The Role Of Facebook In The Syrian Uprising” (Jan 2016).
26. United Kingdom v. Tesch (The Zyklon B Case), Case No. 9, 1 Law Reports of Trials of War Criminals 93 (British Military Court, Hamburg, Germany Mar. 1–8 1946), http://perma.cc/GU9K-GLH6.
27. Wall Street Journal, ‘Russian POWs Describe Nightmare of Combat in Ukraine’ https://www.wsj.com/world/europe/russian-pows-describe-nightmare-of-combat-in-ukraine-4dd492b5 accessed 17 December 2024.

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References

[1] Geneva Convention III, Art 13

[2] ICRC, ‘Geneva Convention III Commentary on Prisoners of War’ (23 July 2020) https://blogs.icrc.org/law-and-policy/2020/07/23/gciii-commentary-prisoners-of-war/ accessed 16 December 2024.

[3] Heather Jones and Uta Hinz, ‘Prisoners of War (Germany)’, in Ute Daniel, Peter Gatrell, Oliver Janz, Heather Jones, Jennifer Keene, Alan Kramer, and Bill Nasson (eds), 1914-1918-online. International Encyclopedia of the First World War (Freie Universität Berlin 8 October 2014)

[4] Ibid

[5] Armeson, Robert B.: Total warfare and compulsory labor. A study of the military-industrial complex in Germany during World War I, The Hague, 1964: M. Nijhoff.

[6] ICRC, ‘Geneva Convention III Commentary on Prisoners of War’ (n 1).

[7] Ibid 1

[8] Al Jazeera, ‘Russia Accuses Ukraine of Executing More Than 10 POWs’ (18 November 2022) https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2022/11/18/russia-accuses-ukraine-of-executing-more-than-10-pows.

[9] Wall Street Journal, ‘Russian POWs Describe Nightmare of Combat in Ukraine’ https://www.wsj.com/world/europe/russian-pows-describe-nightmare-of-combat-in-ukraine-4dd492b5.

[10] Ibid

[11] Professor Charles Dunlap, Executive Director, Center on Law, Ethics and National Security, Duke University.

[12] ICRC, ‘Geneva Convention III Commentary on Prisoners of War’ (n 1).

[13] Jean-Marie Henckaerts, GCIII Commentary: ICRC unveils first update in sixty years, June 18, 2020

[14] (ICRC, ‘Geneva Convention III Commentary on Prisoners of War’ (23 July 2020) https://blogs.icrc.org/law-and-policy/2020/07/23/gciii-commentary-prisoners-of-war/ accessed [date of access])

[15] Risius, Gordon and Meyer, Michael A. ‘The protection of prisoners of war against insults and public curiosity’, International Review of the Red Cross, Vol. 33, No. 295, August 1993, pp. 288–299.

[16] Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949, Article 37, 1125 UNTS 3.

[17] Joelle Rizk and Sean Cordey, ‘What We Don’t Understand About Digital Risks in Armed Conflict and What to Do About It’ (27 July 2023) https://www.examplelink.com accessed 17 December 2024.

[18] Sandrine Tiller, Pierrick Devidal and Delphine van Solinge, ‘The ‘Fog of War’… and Information’ (30 March 2021) https://www.examplelink.com accessed 17 December 2024.

[19] Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949, Article 34, 1125 UNTS 3.

[20] Council of Europe, ‘Electronic Evidence of War Crimes and the Role of Journalists, Media and Social Media’ https://www.coe.int/en/web/kyiv/-/electronic-evidence-of-war-crimes-and-the-role-of-journalists-media-and-social-media accessed 17 December 2024.

[21] Middle East Eye, ‘Israel Soldiers Document War Crimes on Social Media in Gaza, New Documentary Reveals’ https://www.middleeasteye.net/news/israel-soldiers-document-war-crimes-social-media-gaza-new-documentary accessed 17 December 2024.

[22] Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949, Article 51(4), 1125 UNTS 3.

[23] Prosecutor v Stanislav Galić (International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, Trial Chamber) Case No IT-98-29-T, 5 December 1999.

[24] Michael N. Schmitt (ed), Tallinn Manual on the International Law Applicable to Cyber Warfare (Cambridge University Press 2013).

[25] Toumani, Razan. “The Role Of Facebook In The Syrian Uprising.” ( Jan 2016).

[26] Article 77(2) of Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions, 8 June 1977, [1977] 16 ILM 1391.

Article 4.3(c) of Additional Protocol II to the Geneva Conventions, 8 June 1977, [1977] 16 ILM 1442.

[27]  Sthinktank.com, ‘Digital Deployment: How Social Media Can Reshape Modern Military Recruitment’ (30 July 2024) https://sthinktank.com/2024/07/30/digital-deployment-how-social-media-can-reshape-modern-military-recruitment/ accessed 17 December 2024.

[28] Article 51, Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions, 8 June 1977.

[29] International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), ‘Rule 6: The Principle of Distinction Between Civilians and Combatants’ (Customary IHL) https://ihl-databases.icrc.org/pt/customary-ihl/v2/rule6 accessed 17 December 2024.

[30] Michael N. Schmitt, ‘Humanitarian Law and Direct Participation in Hostilities by Private Contractors or Civilian Employees’ (2005) 5 Chi J Int’l L 511

[31] Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions, Article 51(5).

[32] Michael N. Schmitt, ‘Deconstructing Direct Participation in Hostilities: The Constitutive Elements’ (2010) 42 NYU J Int’l L & Pol 697

[33] Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions (AP I), Article 57.

[34] Michael N. Schmitt, ‘Deconstructing Direct Participation in Hostilities: The Constitutive Elements’ (2010) 42 NYU J Int’l L & Pol 697

[35] ibid

[36] ibid

[37] ibid

[38] Prosecutor v Charles Taylor, Judgment on Immunity, (Sierra Leone Special Court, 31 May 2004), Case No. SCSL-03-01

[39] Amnesty International, ‘Myanmar: Facebook’s Systems Promoted Violence Against Rohingya, Meta Owes Reparations – New Report’ (2022) https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2022/09/myanmar-facebooks-systems-promoted-violence-against-rohingya-meta-owes-reparations-new-report/ accessed 17 December 2024.

[40] How Social Media Companies Could Be Complicit in Incitement to Genocide’ (2020) Chicago Journal of International Law https://cjil.uchicago.edu/print-archive/how-social-media-companies-could-be-complicit-incitement-genocide accessed 17 December 2024.

[41] United Kingdom v. Tesch (The Zyklon B Case), Case No. 9, 1 Law Reports of Trials of War Criminals 93 (British Military Court, Hamburg, Germany Mar. 1–8 1946), http://perma.cc/GU9K-GLH6.Hide

[42] How Social Media Companies Could Be Complicit in Incitement to Genocide’ (2020) Chicago Journal of International Law https://cjil.uchicago.edu/print-archive/how-social-media-companies-could-be-complicit-incitement-genocide accessed 17 December 2024.

[43] ibid