Symposium on Symposium on Art, Aesthetics and International Justice: The Power of Perception – Aesthetic Theory and International Justice

[Jed Odermatt is a Reader at The City Law School, City St George’s, University of London]

Academic debates often begin with the assertion that international law is in a period of unique crisis. In the face of complex, wicked problems, from climate change to massive human rights abuses, international lawyers question whether international law’s toolkit remains fit for purpose. The responses are also familiar. International agreements should be better designed; states need to comply with their existing legal obligations; failing institutions need to be reformed. Aksenova’s Art, Aesthetics and International Justice offers a different response. Rather than drawing upon existing legal vocabularies and frameworks, we are invited to look elsewhere, towards art, imagination and theories of aesthetics as starting points for perceiving and thinking differently about international justice. In this short reflection, I will consider whether it is desirable and practical to engage with theories of aesthetics to strengthen the authority of international justice to build a more adaptive system of global ordering. 

Aksenova begins with a simple premise: perception is universal. Since everyone is capable of perception it is a useful staring point in thinking about international justice. Aksenova does not argue, however, that perception is neutral. Our perception is influenced and mediated by contexts, power, language and culture. The book presents perception as an attitude that invites openness and reflection. Aksenova argues that the problem with international justice is not its “pluralistic discourses but rather the lack of self-reflection.”  

Aksenova presents the concept of International justice 2.0, a reimagined form of international justice that could respond to the perceived failures in existing systems, which are fragmented, rigidly positivist and lacking in human empathy. Here, international justice’s legitimacy is not based on formal sources alone, but also on the shared foundation of human perception and aesthetic experience. It calls for a discussion of the ways law is sensed, felt and imagined.  Aksenova argues that international justice is rooted in a state-centric deterrence paradigm inherited from the post-WWII legal order. What might international justice look like if it were based on other ideals, such as empathy and imagination? Importantly, Aksenova’s work is not concerned so much with what International justice 2.0 should look like, but more with a process of observing and perceiving that would make space for such a reimagined form of international justice: “There is scope to develop new methodologies that engage with the discipline of international justice from a different, more experiential, standpoint.” Drawing on theories of aesthetics, Aksenova concludes that adopting an aesthetic lens allows a shift in focus away from specific outcomes to the processes. 

Another common theme in Aksenova’s work is the need for consensus, based on a realisation of global interconnectedness. Aksenova points to the post-WWII and post-Cold War moments as historical periods where a collective international response to global threats was possible. Yet these moments were marked less by genuine consensus and shared understanding than by hegemonic ordering and US power. The institutions and norms that emerged were also shaped by the priorities of dominant powers. In calling for a new period of consensus, Aksenova invites us to imagine a more inclusive foundation of international justice, one that is not founded on exclusion but on universal experiences. But can perception alone lead to shared meaning? For a consensus to emerge that is not imposed by major powers, dialogue is also essential. Dialogue is not merely an exchange of positions, but a space where understanding can flow through shared language. Aksenova accepts that universality does not preclude the recognition of diverse historical, cultural and religious backgrounds. Yet terms like universality and consensus can also be used to mask domination and silence opposing voices. Aksenova shows how art can be used to express experiential truths. It builds on the work of Schwöbel-Patel and Knox who show the role of art as a form of political intervention that contests hegemonic power structures.

Aksenova also cautions against instrumentalising art. Aesthetics should not be used merely as a decorative tool to legitimize existing legal authority. Instead, the true value of aesthetics lies in its capacity to reimagine what justice looks and feels like. Aksenova engages deeply with the rich literature exploring the relationship between art and law. Her approach is innovative in applying the aesthetic lens to how international justice itself is perceived and experienced. Yet, just as art is often viewed as an elite domain, there remains a valid concern that the aesthetic approach to international law could be co-opted by those in power, potentially reinforcing rather than challenging existing hierarchies. Future work on the topic could more explicitly engage with the work on everyday aesthetic experiences, which views everyday experiences, particularly in relation to popular culture, as sites of resistance and struggle. 

Teaching International Law Through Aesthetic Lens

While the volume does not directly address the teaching of international law, it prompted me to reflect on how art and aesthetic theory can enrich the classroom experience. In my own teaching of international human rights law, I have used art to foreground emotional and experiential dimensions that are often absent from legal texts and judgments. In my international human rights law course, I begin with the paintings of Indigenous Australian artist Kaylene Whiskey from the Aṉangu Pitjantjatjara Yankunytjatjara (APY) Lands in remote South Australia. Her art is vibrant, irreverently humorous, and deeply grounded in her community’s stories and traditions. I find the contrast between traditional and modern styles in her work especially striking. One of her paintings, Seven Sistas Sign (2021), plays on the ancestral story of the Seven Sisters –Kungkarangkalpa – a Tjukurpa (Dreaming story) that tells of seven women protecting one another as they are pursued across the sky by a dangerous man. This is both a cosmological narrative and a powerful metaphor for resistance and survival. Beginning the course with a painting, not the Universal Declaration on Human Rights, sets a different tone. Students are invited to think about the law not only in terms of documents and institutions, but also experiences, stories, humour and imagination. 

Presenting human rights law solely through doctrinal sources risks stripping it of the affective force that gives the field its urgency and moral weight. Aesthetic practices (e.g., storytelling, performance, visual symbolism) can introduce alternative ways of knowing and decentre dominant legal narratives. Drawing on the work of Theodor Adorno, Aksenova reflects on how “art reveals truth that is not so easily captured by formalised knowledge because experiences, such as suffering, remain foreign to knowledge.” While Art, Aesthetics and International Justice aims to rethink the foundations of the international legal order, its insights also strongly resonate with teaching, reminding us of the value of bringing emotional and experiential depth into the classroom.

Conclusion

Art, Aesthetics and International Justice effortlessly weaves together insights from international law and human rights, legal theory, and diverse philosophical traditions. The pages seamlessly flow from a discussion of the Philippines v. China arbitration to Rig Veda, revealing a wealth of research and deep reflection on the topic. The work invites us to consider international justice as a more adaptive, creative and participatory system of global (legal) ordering. The proposals put forward in the book also require a more explicit engagement with the political dimensions of art and aesthetics. As we talk past one another and it becomes more difficult to find common ground, the book’s call to foreground perception and aesthetic experience is also a viable first step towards a transformative system of international justice.