Simon getting ready for Passover with a conquistador helmet

Spain apologized for 1521. Shalzed is upset. What if Passover is next?

by with No Comment story

Spain apologized for 1521. Shalzed is upset. What if Passover is next?

Why should anyone today answer for what happened long ago?

Today Shalzed asks why Spain was made to apologize for events that took place in 1521. It seemed unrelated- until Simon wondered whether, by that logic, Jewish people might have to apologize for the ten plagues too.

Spain apologized for 1521. Shalzed is upset. What if Passover is next?

I was at my parents’ house, because my mom and dad needed my help to get the heavy boxes of Passover stuff from the basement up to the kitchen. My mom had just sent me down to get the haggadot when Shalzed called and asked me a question I didn’t know how to answer. “The King of Spain just apologized for something a Spanish explorer named Hernan Cortez did in 1521,” he asked. “I can’t understand why.”

I pulled out my phone. “Mexico’s been pushing for that for years,” I said. “The Spanish destroyed Tenochtitlan to make it their capital. Everyone knows colonialism meant horrible crimes.”

The Passover boxes swayed in front of me.

“But what does that have to do with current day Spain?” Shalzed asked.

It felt like the basement was moving, and the floor seemed to tilt. Then it was gone. A moment later, Shalzed and I were in the midst of a large group of people walking along a scenic road through some mountains, with a heavy contingent of Mexican police along the side. I felt someone push into me from behind, and so I started to walk along.

“Señora Presidenta,” Shalzed called. A woman leading the group turned. She was wearing an elegant burgundy dress, with elaborate, elegantly embroidered flowers on the front. I had seen the news enough to recognize her as Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum. “Why do you want Spain to apologize for things that happened hundreds of years ago? The people who did it aren’t even alive.”

Shalzed quickened his pace to catch up with her, and I hurried to stay with him. Sheinbaum frowned. “Are you accompanying us as part of the honour guard?” she asked. Shalzed’s bright orange spacesuit looked nothing like the Mexican men accompanying her, wearing white shirts with colorful embroidery and large sombreros.

“No,” I said quickly. I was wearing jeans and a Camp Ramah staff T-shirt, so maybe not quite as much as Shalzed, but I also stood out.

“No one now living in Spain has anything to do with what happened five hundred years ago,” Shalzed said. “Do you believe that just by being born Spaniards they inherited guilt?”

Sheinbaum turned towards him without slowing down. “Not guilt, but responsibility,” she said. “Countries evolve, while laws, language, and identity all continue on.”

“So Spanish citizens are responsible for Hernan Cortez, because he is one of their ancestors?” Shalzed asked.

“For centuries the suffering of indigenous Mexicans was denied or minimized,” Sheinbaum said. “An apology says it was real, and it mattered.”

“How? It’s just words that won’t make any practical difference,” Shalzed said.

A man wearing an elegant, black Mexican shirt with red embroidery running down the right side who had been walking with Sheinbaum moved closer. “For the King of Spain to finally apologize acknowledges that their suffering was a real injustice, after so many years of being pushed aside,” he said.

We were walking quickly, and I saw up ahead a small plaza with a giant, black statue of a seated man with a stern expression above the crowd. People gathered at the edges of the square, with a large group of reporters waiting in front of a podium.

“What is this?” I asked.

President Sheinbaum, the man in the black shirt next to her, and a number of other people around us looked at me suspiciously, and I realized I had said something stupid. “The President is about to lay a wreath for Benito Juarez,” the man in the black shirt said. “If you’re not part of the honor guard, then you shouldn’t be here.”

“How can you hold people responsible for things they didn’t do?” Shalzed asked. “Let alone things done by their ancestors?”

She clicked her tongue. “It’s not about saying present day Spaniards are guilty,” she said. “It’s that this apology is a step towards rewriting history so it’s more balanced. So we finally include the perspectives of those who were colonized, too.”

“If indigenous people are suffering today,” Shalzed said, “wouldn’t it be better to focus on what you can change now, rather than worrying about who in the past was to blame?”

We were now at the edge of the square, and everyone slowed. Some military officials who had been waiting started to come over to greet Sheinbaum. “We need both,” she told Shalzed. “Without addressing the past, we will never be able to build a solid future.” She turned and started to shake the men’s hands.

“If you don’t have a part in the ceremony, you need to go behind that ribbon,” the man in the black shirt told us. A policeman stepped to his side.

“If people are held responsible for crimes of their ancestors, when does it ever end?” Shalzed asked. “Every nation and ethnic group throughout history is guilty of something.”

The man glanced at Sheinbaum. She turned to us, signaling the officers to wait. “Gestures matter,” she said. “Owning up to the past does not divide us, it makes us stronger.” Then she accompanied the officers to the center of the square.

“It’s part of what we’re doing here,” the man in the black shirt added. “Benito Juarez was Zapotec, and he overcame tremendous discrimination to become President of Mexico. Laying a wreath on his birthday acknowledges the unfair hurdles indigenous people face.”

The policeman raised his eyebrows and gestured towards the ribbon. I opened my mouth to respond- but he wasn’t looking at us anymore. The sounds of the square softened, like they were moving farther away.

The crowd and the statue dissolved into nothing, and then I was back in the basement of my parents’ house. Shalzed wasn’t with me, and my mom was calling my name. “I’ll be right up,” I yelled. I had no idea how long I had been gone, and I hoped she hadn’t worried. My stomach was churning. I took a deep breath, and for a moment I leaned against the wall.

When I started to feel better, I began putting all the Haggadot in the box. The ones that my dad liked had a picture of the splitting of the sea on the cover. If we are all supposed to be responsible for our ancestors, I wondered how far it goes. Should Egypt apologize for enslaving the Israelites? Should Israel apologize for the plagues?

“Is everything okay down there?” My mom called.

“Coming,” I said back.

History matters. But if responsibility never ends, conflict will never end either.

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Sources:

For more information on Spain’s apology from Reuters, click here.

For detail on Claudia Shenbaum’s reaction from the BBC, click here.

shalzed and Simon

I told Shalzed it was just tough talk about the war. Then he surprised me. . .

by with No Comment story

I told Shalzed it was just tough talk about the war. Then he surprised me. . .

I had just emptied my fridge onto the kitchen table for Passover cleaning when Shalzed came upstairs, blinking rapidly. He was upset about something outrageous Pete Hegseth said at a press conference. I try to explain that Hegseth probably didn’t mean his words literally. Then Shalzed asks why I don’t give our enemies the same benefit of the doubt.

I told Shalzed it was just tough talk about the war. Then he surprised me. . .

I decided to get started early with Passover cleaning this year and start on my fridge. I figured if I did the freezer and all the drawers now, I’d only have to wipe it down right before the holiday. But just as soon as I had put everything from the fridge out on my kitchen table, Shalzed buzzed from the street. As he came up the stairs, I put the Haagen Daz ice cream back in the freezer so it wouldn’t melt.

“I just saw a news report that I can’t understand,” he began. “Pete Hegseth, your Secretary of Defense, said at a news conference, ‘We will keep pushing, keep advancing, no quarter, no mercy for our enemies.’

“He’s probably just trying to sound tough,” I said.

Shalzed blinked his eyes rapidly, which is what he did when he felt shocked. “But how?” he demanded. “How could he? Aren’t those words which must never be uttered?”

The truth is that I had no idea what ‘no quarter’ really meant. But wasn’t it normal in war not to have mercy for the enemy? I looked ‘no quarter’ up on my phone and was surprised by what I found. To declare ‘no quarter’ was to say that enemies would be killed even if they were already wounded or trying to surrender. “I doubt he really meant it,” I told Shalzed. I couldn’t imagine that the U.S. army would actually kill surrendering Iranian troops.

“But by just having said those words enemies are less likely to be willing to surrender.” Shalzed blinked his eyes some more. “Even the mere suggestion that prisoners may be killed or mistreated could have the effect of increasing fighting and lengthening the war.”

I looked at all my refrigerator stuff on the table. “Is there any Earth food here you haven’t yet tried?” I asked. I realized the thing he would probably most like was the ice cream. When he discovered vanilla soft-serve he ate three cones, so if I gave him strawberry cheesecake Haagen Daz he might finish the whole container. I needed it for my cousin’s birthday party, so I was glad I had put it back.

Shalzed glanced over the table, then looked back at me and blinked again. “How could he say that and remain in charge of the army?” Shalzed asked again. “Hasn’t he violated your laws just with what he said?”

My phone rang, and I saw it was a call from my brother Yoni in Israel. I swiped to answer. With the war going on I wanted to make sure Yoni was okay, and Shalzed seemed so upset that it was starting to make me uncomfortable. “Everything alright?” I asked.

“Yeah, we just got out of our shelter,” Yoni said. “A missile fell a kilometer from us, I wanted to call in case you were worried.”

I felt guilty that I hadn’t heard. “Good,” I told him. “Was anyone hurt?”

“They’re not sure yet. It fell on a street, but hopefully everyone in the houses nearby was in a safe room.”

I glanced at Shalzed. He had his hands on his hips and wasn’t even looking at the table. I put the phone on speaker. “Yoni, I have a friend over,” I said. I had mentioned Shalzed to Yoni in passing, but never said anything about where Shalzed was from. I hadn’t mentioned that to anyone, actually, since I figured there was no way they’d believe it. “Do you know what it means to give no quarter?”

“Don’t give loose change to someone asking for money,” he replied.

I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be funny. “No,” I told him. “Like in war.”

“Yeah, they taught us stuff like that at the end of basic training.” Yoni did a full three years of army duty after he made aliya. “It’s the kind of thing that even if your commander tells you to do it, you’re supposed to disobey.”

Shalzed leaned forward. “What if the order comes from the Secretary of Defense?”

I told Yoni about Hegseth’s statement. “He was probably just saying how unfair it is that we are expected to follow all the Geneva Convention even when fighting terrorists who don’t,” he said.

“So he was serious!” Shalzed exclaimed.

“But it doesn’t matter, because troops are trained to disobey that type of thing, right?” I asked Yoni.

“Yeah, that’s true. Also, soldiers listen to their commander, not what’s on the news,” he said. “The main thing is that the U.S. is helping us get rid of the Iranian threat.”

“Was Iran a threat?” Shalzed asked. He had already taken me to confront the United States UN ambassador Mike Waltz about whether the war was legal, so I hoped he wasn’t going to bring that up again.

“Of course it was,” Yoni replied. “Khomeini led chants of death to Israel and death to America. He even put up a clock counting down to Israel’s destruction.”

“But maybe he wasn’t serious. Maybe he was just trying to boast about the strength of Iran’s armed forces,” Shalzed said.

I laughed. “I think we have to assume he was serious. Otherwise, why was he stockpiling missiles and trying to build nuclear weapons?” I asked.

“Listen, if it was just a one time statement I’d agree with you,” Yoni chimed in. “But we have to understand it in context. Khomeini was Iran’s supreme leader. And he was close to having the means of carrying it out.”

“Then what about Hegseth?” Shalzed asked.

“What do you mean?” I replied, not sure what he meant.

Shalzed frowned. “Hegseth announced that the United States intends to kill Iranian troops even if they are wounded or attempting to surrender, which is completely against the law. He is in charge of the military, the U.S. is currently at war, and U.S. soldiers have the means to carry out his threat. Nevertheless, you’re still sure he was joking.”

That didn’t make any sense to me, but I didn’t know how to answer. “It’s completely different,” Yoni said.

“Why?” Shalzed asked.

“Because the United States would never actually do it,” Yoni replied.

“Maybe Iran wouldn’t actually launch nuclear missiles,” Shalzed said.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” I said quickly.

“Of course they would,” Yoni added. “Look at what they’ve done already.”

Shalzed paused. “So you decide what people mean not by what they say, but by what you already believe about them and their country?”

I shrugged. “Have you tasted kefir?” I asked, pointing to a container of mango Lighthouse kefir on the table. “If we don’t finish it now, it might spoil.”

“I have to go,” Yoni said. “Remember, by us it’s already night.”

I wished Yoni that he and his family should be safe, then turned to Shalzed. “You can’t expect Israel to take risks when Iran is threatening it with destruction,” I told him.

He took the cap off the kefir container and sniffed. “Maybe you’re right about Iran,” he said. “Maybe they would use nuclear weapons if they had them. But would you blame Iranian soldiers if they don’t risk surrendering now that Hegseth has threatened to kill them even if they do, and decide instead to keep fighting?”

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For the legal context of Hegseth’s statement from Just Security, click here.

The noise outside

The Noise Outside

by with No Comment passover for youth

The Noise Outside

When the sound of breaking glass interrupts the seder

The Noise Outside

“Everyone take some matzah,” my dad said as he passed around the plate. Shalzed inspected the matzah carefully, then cracked off a small piece and passed it along to Nora.

“We’re supposed to eat it while reclining,” Maya said.

“Very good,” my dad responded. “Do you know why?”

“We didn’t learn that,” Maya replied.

“But wouldn’t eating while leaning back be dangerous for humans?” Shalzed asked. “The odd construction of your throat makes you prone to choking.”

There was a sharp crack outside, then a crashing noise that made it sound like a window had shattered. “What was that?” my mom asked, standing up quickly. Everyone looked around.

“We should call the police,” my sister said, taking out her phone.

“It was probably just the wind,” Nathan said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Or maybe an animal.”

“These days we’re all targets,” my mom said. “Some people hate Jews no matter where we are.”

“He can protect us,” Maya said, pointing at Shalzed.

I wondered if Shalzed had any advanced sort of item he could use in self-defense. I hoped so. I felt a little scared myself.

“Why would anyone want to harm a family’s holiday celebration?” Shalzed asked.

My mom put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you know about anti-semitism?” she asked.

I stood up. “Let me take a look,” I said, starting towards the windows.

“Be careful,” my mom told me.

I looked out as best I could. “I don’t see anyone on the sidewalk. One car just drove by, and it’s turning left at the corner.”

“Can you see the license plate?” my mom asked. “They could have done it.”

“Done what?” Nathan asked.

“Maybe thrown a rock through the downstairs window,” my mom said.

“But honey, why?” my dad asked. “How would anyone know that we and the neighbors downstairs are Jewish?”

“They could have seen holiday candles,” my mom said. “Or maybe the mezuzah. . .”

“Listen,” Nathan interjected. “Antisemitism is real, but you have to remember that we still are very fortunate. Even with everything that’s happened, here in the United States Jews are safer than almost anywhere else in the world.”

“Not for long,” my dad said. “That’s why I’m getting a concealed carry permit.”

“Are you really?” my sister exclaimed. He had told me a few weeks ago. The idea made me uncomfortable, but I knew my dad would be responsible.

“We have to check downstairs, make sure they’re alright,” my mom said.

“I’ll call, do you have the number?” my sister asked.

My mom shook her head. “I don’t think they’ll talk on the telephone when it’s a holiday.”

“So I’ll go down,” my sister replied. She got up quickly and went out the front door.

Everyone was silent for a moment. There was no more noise outside, and no sound of anything else breaking.

“I just don’t understand,” Shalzed said again. “Why would anyone attack a Jewish family celebration?”

“Don’t you know what just happened in Michigan?” my dad said. “A man attacked a synagogue with his car because he’s upset about the war in Lebanon.”

“Don’t forget the Tree of Life shooting in Pittsburgh,” I added. “And there have been plenty more synagogue shootings since.”

Nora suddenly spoke up. “That’s why I’ve been pleading with you all to stop wearing anything that makes you look Jewish,” she said. “It’s not worth the risk. Personally, I don’t even want to go to the Jewish Community Center, even for exercise.”

My dad cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Nora, that’s letting them win. We cannot live in fear. There’s no reason we shouldn’t be proud of our identity.”

“Even if you say you hate Israel, it won’t help,” my mother added. “A Jew is a Jew and they hate us all.”

There was another moment of silence, and then we heard my sister’s voice in the stairway. A moment later she came back.

“Everyone is fine,” she said. “Something made of glass fell on their patio. It looks like it was some sort of pitcher or something like that.”

“A glass pitcher on their patio?” my dad asked.

“They’re going to clean it up after the seder,” my sister said.

My dad stood up. “Just a minute, I want to check something,” he said as he went into the kitchen.

“Who would throw a glass pitcher?” my mom asked.

“Not onto the patio,” Nathan said. “That would be impossible.”

I thought about that, and he was probably right.

My dad returned, his shoulders slumped forward and looking down at the ground. “I think I know what happened,” he said.

“What?” my mom asked.

“Well, when I went to bring more charoset I also hid the afikomen,” he said. Maya stared, probably realizing something must be really wrong for him to admit to hiding the afikomen. “I put it on the porch, under the pitcher. . .”

“Do you mean the pitcher that used to belong to your grandmother?” my mom asked.

My dad nodded. “I guess when I put the matzah under it, it was on a bit of an angle. Then maybe there was wind or something and. . .”

“So now it’s gone?” my mom interrupted again.

My dad shrugged. “Well, it’s not there anymore. And our porch is right above the patio downstairs.”

“Why would anyone have even left that pitcher on the ledge?” my mom demanded.

“Well there was nowhere else to put it,” my sister said. “The kitchen is full, and everything else on the porch is chametz.”

“It’s okay,” my dad said. “We still have plenty of other utensils from my grandmother, and that’s the way it is. Things break every once in a while.”

My mom took a deep breath. “Well thank goodness it wasn’t anything worse,” she said, sitting back down at her place. “Let’s just continue with the seder.”

“Does everyone have a piece of matzah?” my dad asked.

Shalzed picked up the little piece on his plate. “But why would anyone hold Jewish people here responsible for violence far away?” he asked. “It makes no sense.”

No one answered for a moment. Then my sister said, “Welcome to planet Earth,” rather rudely.

Questions for Discussion:

  1. If you were sitting at the table, what would you have said during the conversation?
  2. Some characters want to change their behavior to stay safe, such as by not wearing Jewish symbols. Others say that would mean “letting them win.” How do we balance safety with living openly as who they are?
  3. Why does Shalzed find the situation confusing? What assumptions about fairness or responsibility does he seem to have that people on Earth sometimes do not follow?
shalzed drone and war etf

The Drone Fund: Should War Be an Investment?

by with No Comment shalzedstory

The Drone Fund: Should War Be an Investment?

Shalzed and Simon outside Cafe Maya, next to Amnesty International Headquarters in London

For investors, war can be profitable. A new fund seeks to capitalize on rising demand for drones and ammunition — but is the right way to boost your savings? Shalzed investigates.

The Drone Fund: Should War Be an Investment?

I was at home doing my taxes when Shalzed rang the doorbell. I buzzed him up. “Welcome,” I said as he came in the door.

“I wanted to. . .” he began. Then he noticed that I was working at my computer and asked if I was busy.

I smiled. “Just finishing up my taxes,” I told him.

He noticed a paper on my desk. “What’s that?” he asked, wrinkling his forehead.

“It’s the fact sheet for an investment a friend of mine recommended,” I replied. “I’m going to make a contribution to my retirement fund before I file, and I need to decide what to do with it.”

Shalzed picked up the paper. “A fund for drones and modern warfare?” he asked.

I shrugged. “With the current war in Iran, along with what’s been going on in Ukraine, defense spending is sure to go up,” I told him. “And now every military needs drones.”

Shalzed looked aghast. “You want to make money by investing in companies that build robots that kill people?” he asked.

I hadn’t really thought about that before, and suddenly I felt uncertain. “It’s just an investment,” I mumbled. Then I found myself inside the familiar black tunnel, and a moment later I was standing next to Shalzed in a large executive office. A middle aged man wearing a blue suit and blue tie was sitting behind a desk, staring at his computer. A name plaque on the desk said Matthew Bielski, CEO of Defiance ETFs. Behind him, a city skyline showed through a wall of glass.

“How can you encourage people to invest in companies that make weapons?” Shalzed asked.

Bielski shook his head in surprise. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I had been thinking of investing in your drone warfare fund,” I told him. “My friend is here to learn about human rights, and he has some questions.”

“Our funds have a solid track record of outperforming the market. I believe drone technology could be Wall Street’s next big winner.”

“But do you really want to profit from making machines that kill?” Shalzed asked.

Bielski frowned. “If it wasn’t for drones, Russia would have already taken over Ukraine.”

“What if drones are used for war crimes?” Shalzed asked.

“That’s the responsibility of whoever uses them, not us,” Bielski said.

A guy in his twenties carried a stack of papers into the office. “The DRNL documents are ready for you,” he told Bielski.

“Great,” Bielski said. “I’ll take care of it in a minute.”

“DRNL?” Shalzed asked.

“It’s a new, leveraged fund that gives twice the daily performance of companies making drones and their ammunition,” he said. Then he looked at me. “It’s for active, experienced traders,” he said.

I guess he could sense that I was a teacher with just a few thousand dollars in my IRA, not someone who played the stock market.

“So you’re hoping for more wars,” Shalzed said, pointing one of his long, blue fingers at Bielski. “Because every time there’s a war, you profit.”

The guy who brought the papers looked smug. “If they aren’t fighting a war, they’re arming for the next one,” he said.

Bielski clicked his tongue. “We don’t start wars,” he said. “The companies we buy stock in just give governments the tools they need to protect their citizens.”

“But buying the stock of companies that make weapons enables them to develop. Then you’re part of the whole war machine,” Shalzed said.

Bielski leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. “So just one question,” he began.

“What?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable with the silence.

“If you don’t like weapons, what do you think would be a better investment?”

“How about companies that make food?” Shalzed said quickly. “That’s something all people need.”

Bielski scoffed. “Do you really want to support factory farming? Or companies that make cheap processed food that’s a health disaster?”

“What about companies that make clothing?” Shalzed asked.

Bielski smiled. “Most of them operate sweatshops and many are accused of modern slavery.”

Shalzed wrinkled his forehead. “What about transportation? Trains, planes, and automobiles?”

“Ever heard of climate change?” Bielski asked. “Car companies are lobbying against rules requiring cars to be more efficient. Airplanes are one of the biggest polluters.”

Shalzed looked down.

“Well right now I just own an index fund,” I said.

Bielski grinned. “So congratulations, you already have weapons companies in your portfolio,” he said. “There are at least a dozen in the S&P 500.”

Suddenly I was in the tunnel, and a moment later back in my apartment. This time Shalzed was still with me. I turned to my computer. I don’t know why, but I felt it would be embarrassing for Shalzed to see how much money I made. But the tax program had timed out.

Shalzed picked up the fund’s fact sheet again. “So are you really going to buy stock in companies working to perfect drone warfare?” he asked.

I wasn’t sure. “The amount I’d invest is almost nothing compared to what companies are worth. It’s not going to make any difference,” I told him.

“If you see on the news that children were killed in a drone strike, do you want to feel like you had even a small part in that?” he asked. “When you see countries launching waves of drones, will it make you happy to think that means more orders?”

I swallowed. “I’m just trying to make my retirement account go up,” I said.

Shalzed turned towards the door, then stopped to glance at the drone fund fact sheet, still on my desk. “And do you want Earth fighting wars with even more advanced weapons by the time you retire?” he asked.

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Shalzed with Mike Waltz outside the UN

Before It’s Too Late

by with No Comment shalzedstory

Before It’s Too Late

Shalzed asks UN Ambassador Mike Waltz if a country is likely to become a threat someday, can you bomb it now?

Shalzed wtih UN Ambassador Mike Waltz outside the United Nations

The United States and Israel claimed self-defense as the justification for their attack on Iran. But even though Iran is a hostile country that has threatened the U.S. and Israel many times, it didn’t seem to be a significant threat right now. Shalzed confronts U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Mike Waltz with this question.

Before It’s Too Late

I was on the phone with my brother, who had moved to Israel four years ago. He was telling me about how his daughter was very upset about school being cancelled when the siren sounded. I hung up right away so he and his family could get to their shelter. Then Shalzed called.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “How could the U.S. and Israel launch such an attack?”

“Well, we can’t let Iran get nuclear weapons.”

“But that’s not a reason to start a war,” Shalzed said.

I figured Shalzed probably didn’t know much about Iran. Before I could say anything, though, I was in the black tunnel. By now I was used to it enough that I was no longer afraid, and I really wanted to find out how it worked. A moment later I was outside the United Nations in New York, with Shalzed next to me. A man wearing a blue suit with a U.S. flag pin on his jacket was standing nearby, trying to attach a lapel microphone to his jacket. “Ambassador Waltz,” Shalzed called.

The Ambassador turned and looked at Shalzed. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I don’t understand. Countries can only use force to defend themselves,” Shalzed began.

“I’m sorry, I’m just about to go live on Fox News,” Waltz replied, gesturing Shalzed and I to move along. A few steps away, a reporter was conferring with a cameraman.

“But didn’t the U.S. and Israel just violate the UN charter?” Shalzed persisted.

Waltz shook his head and sighed. “Absolutely not,” he said. “Iran has thousands of missiles and is attempting to develop nuclear weapons besides.”

“But how can you say it’s self-defense if they didn’t attack?” Shalzed asked.

“Almost ready,” the reporter called. “Do a sound check, please.”

Waltz nodded. “The Iranian government killed thousands of its own citizens in recent protests,” he said in a robot-like monotone. The reporter gave him a thumbs up. Then he continued in a normal voice, “Some say tens of thousands. We may never know the real number.”

“And that means you can bomb their nuclear facilities?” Shalzed asked.

“Iran’s leaders have been leading chants of death to America and death to Israel for decades,” I interjected. “They even put a clock in the center of Tehran counting down the days until Israel is destroyed.”

Shalzed looked shocked. “Well how can they do that? Didn’t the UN tell them to take it down?”

I laughed, and Waltz also chuckled. “No,” he said. “Evidently, there’s nothing against countdown clocks in the UN charter.”

The reporter walked over. “I’m sorry, we’re delayed just a couple of minutes,” she said. “They broke in with an update from Tel-Aviv.”

“What happened?” I asked, worried people may have been killed.

“Direct hit on a school. But it wasn’t occupied, no injuries.”

“You see, Iran doesn’t follow any international law,” Waltz said. “They shoot missiles at schools, they fire randomly at cities. Then we’re the ones that get criticized.”

“Can you say that when we’re live?” the reporter asked.

“Of course,” Waltz replied. “And I’ll also mention that right now they are carrying out aggression against Saudi Arabia and the Gulf States too. Then people make it out like the United States is the one that doesn’t follow the law.”

Shalzed crossed his hands against his chest. “I understand the government of Iran does bad things. But can that justify an invasion?”

The reporter looked at Waltz expectantly. I had a feeling she was interested to hear his reply, too.

“So should Israel wait until they have ten thousand missiles, many armed with nuclear warheads, and then it’s too late?” he asked.

“Israel can’t risk a nuclear armed Iran,” I added.

“Almost ready,” the cameraman called as he lifted a bulky tv camera onto his shoulder.

Waltz straightened his hair with his hand. “Bottom line,” he said. “Countries are entitled to defend themselves. Iran has been a threat in the past, and we have every reason to believe they will continue to be a threat in the future.”

“Say that on air,” the reporter said.

“But Iran wasn’t a threat right now,” Shalzed interjected. “And any country could potentially be a threat sometime in the future.”

A light on the camera turned on. “Five,” the cameraman said, then he started counting down.

The reporter stepped in front of us, right next to Waltz. As the light on the camera changed color she began. “I’m here at the United Nations with U.S. Ambassador Mike Waltz. Mr. Waltz, you just explained to the security council that the action against Iran is completely in keeping with international law. Give us a recap.”

As Waltz began speaking I was back in the black tunnel. I tried to feel around for any clues about what it was made of or how it operated, but before I found anything I was back in my apartment. My phone was ringing- it was my brother calling back.

“Everything alright?” I asked as I picked up.

“Yeah,” he said. “A missile got through the iron dome and hit a school. The building was destroyed, but no one was hurt.”

“Near you?” I asked.

“Just a few kilometers away. Thank God we’re fighting this war now, while Iran still doesn’t have nuclear weapons.”

I told him I was glad he was safe, then I shook my head. Once Iran got the bomb, it would be too late. But if every country struck before it was too late, war would also be endless.  

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Sources:

To read a transcript of Mike Waltz’s explanation given to the Security Council, click here and here. 

plague of blood

The Ten Plagues: The Hardest Question at the Seder

by with No Comment passover for youth

The Ten Plagues: The Hardest Question at the Seder

The plague of blood

The Ten Plagues: The Hardest Question at the Seder

My dad liked reciting the ten plagues, and this year he bought what he called a ‘plague bag’ for our seder. It had a plastic frog he pretended to hop around the table, ping pong balls to toss in the air for boils, and cheap plastic sunglasses he made everyone put on when he mentioned the plague of darkness. For the death of the firstborn, he gave everyone a frowny face sticker for their Haggadah as he spilled a drop of wine from his glass.

“All the first born of Egypt were killed?” Shalzed exclaimed. “But they couldn’t all be guilty.”

Nora made a heavy sigh. “Isn’t this something we could talk about over dinner?” she asked.

There were some things my mom had strong opinions about, and when she did she always spoke up. “Of course they were,” she said. “All the Egyptians were happy having slaves do their hard labor.”

That bothered me, because that logic could apply to just about anyone. “What about a lot of the stuff we buy at Walmart?” I asked. “Lots of products could have been manufactured with slave labor. Does that make us liable for using slave labor too?”

“It’s what they say about Gaza,” my sister added. “Since so many of them celebrated on Oct. 7th, everyone is responsible.”

I was afraid my dad would get upset. My sister was very left wing, but after Oct. 7th he had become much more staunch about defending Israel. One time they had an argument that ended with my sister running out the door in tears, and I didn’t want that to happen again. “God did the plagues, so there must be a reason why they were right,” I said. “But it’s certainly not an example for us to follow.“ I assumed both my dad and my sister would agree with that.

My mother stood up abruptly. “I’m going to start heating up the soup,” she said as she went into the kitchen. She was probably angry my sister made a remark she knew would aggravate our dad.

My brother-in-law Nathan shared with my sister’s views, but I think he also realized that tonight at the seder it would be better to keep quiet. “We can at least all agree it’s immoral to punish innocent children,” he said. “Whether in Gaza or ancient Egypt.”

“So you think you’re more moral than God?” my father asked.

I knew my dad liked Nathan, so his sharp tone surprised me. Nora let out a heavy sigh and my niece Maya went into the living room.

“It’s not a question of more moral,” I said, trying to calm my dad. “But you have to agree that punishing the entire Egyptian population because Pharoah wouldn’t let the people go doesn’t seem right.”

Nathan smiled and said that’s exactly what he meant.

“I think Maya would appreciate if we could have dinner before midnight,” Nora remarked, even though it was only nine o’clock.

“Where is Maya?” my dad asked, finally noticing that she was gone.

“She’s probably tired, let her be,” my mom called from the kitchen.

My dad hesitated, deciding whether to try to get Maya to come back or not. Finally, he turned to Nathan. “Listen, the Jewish people had been enslaved by Pharoah. They were fighting for their freedom. Did you expect them to follow every rule about morality if that would mean they have to remain slaves?”

My sister clicked her tongue. “So if people are fighting what they see as occupation, does that make anything they do alright?” she asked.

My dad slapped his hand on the table. “That’s outrageous,” he said. “How can you say something like that?”

My mom came back from the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “Could we please continue with the seder?” she said.

“That would be a very good idea,” Nora added.

“I agree,” I said. “Why don’t we sing Dayenu?” My dad also liked that song.

“Maya,” my dad called. “Would you come back here please and join us for dayenu?”

There was a tense silence as everyone waited to see if Maya would appear. Shalzed turned to me. “If the plagues aren’t an example, why do you continue reading the story?” he asked.

“And who are we to judge?” my dad replied.

“It’s in the Bible, and Jewish people have been reading it for thousands of years,” I told Shalzed.

Maya came into the room silently, and slowly went to her chair. “What page is dayenu?” Nathan asked.

“Earth has changed,” Shalzed said to me quietly. “Bringing plagues against an entire population would be unthinkable today, wouldn’t it?”

“Dayenu,” my dad said firmly. He began, and instead of answering Shalzed I joined him singing.

Questions for Discussion:

  1. Plagues against the entire Egyptian population, rather than just Pharoah and his guards, would seem to violate the laws of warfare established today. How does that affect how we relate to the Passover story?
  2. Some try to justify the sweeping nature of the plagues by claiming all Egyptians were guilty because they approved of enslaving the Israelites and benefited from Israelite labor. Others say that since the Israelites were fighting the great injustice of national enslavement it’s understandable if they harmed innocent people in their quest for freedom. What do you think?  
shalzed and simon looking at the megillah outside the library

Did It Work? Purim’s Hardest Question

by with No Comment shalzedstory

Did It Work? Purim’s Hardest Question

Survival brings power. Then what?

Shalzed and Simon look at the copies of megillah pages Simon is practicing from

Shalzed hears the story of Purim — and gets stuck on the ending. Yes, the Jews are saved. Yes, Haman’s plot fails. But then comes the part we don’t always linger on. Shalzed has some questions. . . 

Did It Work? Purim’s Hardest Question

It was Thursday night, and in addition to preparing a salad to bring with for Shabbat dinner, I had to practice the chapters of the megillah that I had committed to read on Purim. But Shalzed said he really wanted to take out more books on human rights but couldn’t without my card, so I agreed to meet him at the library.

When I got there he was waiting in the lobby, absorbed in a book titled The Last Utopia: Human Rights in History. I tapped him on the shoulder and he said he was ready to check out, and a few minutes later we were out the door.

“I’m sorry to be in such a rush,” I told him. “But I have to practice my megillah reading tonight.”

“Your what?” Shalzed asked.

I smiled. “Next week is Purim. We read the book of Esther.”

“You already know how to read, so why do you have to practice?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, but the book of Esther is written on a Hebrew scroll. To chant it, you have to memorize all the cantillation marks along with all the vowels.”

He didn’t understand, so I stopped at a bench and showed him the copies of the Hebrew pages I had taken along in my backpack. Shalzed examined them carefully. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing to the section where the lines look different. There was only one word on the left, one on the right, and a blank space in the middle.

“It’s the ten sons of Haman,” I told him. “That’s the way their names are written.”

“Why?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Because they were all hanged at the same time. The tradition is to read all the names in one breath.”

“Hanged?” Shalzed looked aghast.

“Because Haman tried to destroy the Jewish people,” I explained.

“So I see you’re getting ready.” I recognized Rabbi Meyer’s voice behind me and turned around.

“I’ll be all set,” I said as we shook hands. Rabbi Meyer was the rabbi of Congregation Anshei Shalom. I went there most Shabbats, and that was where I would be reading the megillah.

“Why should Haman’s sons be hanged for a crime committed by their father?” Shalzed asked.

Rabbi Meyer gave him a funny look. I told him that Shalzed was a friend from far away who was interested in learning more about human rights. “It says in the Talmud that Haman’s sons had key parts in the plot,” Rabbi Meyer said. “There are many aspects of the Purim story that at first appear problematic, but the Talmud always provides an explanation.”

“Like for all the killing at the end?” I asked.

“What killing?” Shalzed added, looking confused.

Rabbi Meyer smiled. “In the last section of the megillah, the Jews turned the tables and were able to kill all those who had been planning to harm them. But the megillah uses the word ‘enemies’ to describe those the Jews killed, to emphasize that they weren’t innocent bystanders.”

“But just because someone is an enemy, that doesn’t mean it’s okay to kill them,” Shalzed said.

“Rabbi Meyer, I’m so glad to see you, I have to ask you a question,” a woman exiting the library said. I didn’t know her name, but I thought I recognized her from shul.

“Is it urgent? I have to pick up a book for my son, then get back to shul for ma’ariv.” He looked at me when he said that, but I didn’t respond. I had already told him that I wasn’t willing to go each evening, even though they usually needed help with a minyan.

“It’s about Shifra,” the woman said.

Rabbi Meyer nodded and they stepped to the side.

“See you on Shabbos,” I told him. Then I turned to Shalzed. “The megillah tells the story of how Haman rose to power and convinced the king to allow him to slaughter all the Jewish people.” I gestured to the papers I was practicing from. “The Jews were saved because at the last moment Mordechai and Esther changed the king’s mind. It’s only natural that then they wanted some revenge.”

Shalzed wrinkled his nose. “What about international agreements?” he asked.

I couldn’t help but laugh again. “The Purim story took place long ago, way before any of that,” I said.

“So long ago on Earth, a king could just decide to wipe out an entire people?”

“Pretty much,” I said. “That’s why at the end of the story the Jews did so much killing. They had to use their moment in power to create fear so no one would try to become another Haman.”

Shalzed considered. “Did it work?” he asked.

This caught me by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Did killing lots of people prevent future plots against the Jews?”

I shrugged. I had never really thought about that. “I suppose,” I told him. “At the end of the megillah the Jewish people are secure.”

“And what about after?”

I thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” I said. “That’s when the Purim story ends, so it doesn’t say.”

Shalzed seemed surprised. “But history continues.”

A teenager on a skateboard passed by, staring at Shalzed. “Yo, Smurf!” he called. Then he picked up his skateboard and went into a store called ‘Cloud Nine Vape Shop’ right next to the library.

It made me angry, but Shalzed seemed unaffected. “What’s a Smurf?” he asked.

“Never mind,” I told him. “It’s just a stupid kid on a skateboard,” I said, more sharply than I had meant to. I put the papers back in my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. “It probably kept them safe at least for a while. As long as Mordechai and Esther were still in the palace and the same king was on the throne.”

“You said the Purim story happened a long time ago, and that’s why they had to rely on making their enemies afraid. What about today?” Shalzed asked. “If it happened today, would Mordechai and Esther still have tried to instill fear, or would they have felt safer because of human rights and the international system?”

I shrugged again.

Shalzed seemed surprised. “If even now people need to rely on fear to feel safe, will things ever be different?”

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refugees coming to egypt

Refugees: If Everyone Came To Egypt

by with No Comment passover for youth

Refugees: If Everyone Came to Egypt. . .

Could Pharoah have told Jacob and Family No?

Refugees fleeing famine in Canaan heading to Egypt

Refugees: If Everyone Came to Egypt. . .

My dad had everyone take a turn reading a section of the Haggadah. Maya read her part very well, including all the big words. My mom and dad said how impressed they were. But I think she realized that they were just having trouble coming to grips with the fact she was already in 7th grade and growing up fast.

When it was Shalzed’s turn I showed him the place. My mom gave him a funny look, like she wasn’t sure if this was really appropriate, but didn’t say anything. Then Shalzed began in his super deep voice, “Jacob went down to Egypt, forced to go according to the Torah. He only went to dwell in Egypt temporarily.”

Nora made a snort. “That’s just like what the people from Haiti and Venezuela and all the rest of them say,” she interrupted. “They say they’re just coming to the U.S. for a short time, but then they figure out ways to stay longer.”

My sister looked upset. “You can’t possibly blame them for trying to escape what they’ve been through,” she said, glaring at Nora.

My mom and sister always clashed with Nora about politics, and I was afraid they’d start to argue now at the seder, too. “Well, it’s lucky Pharoah let Jacob stay,” I said, trying to be light-hearted. “Otherwise we wouldn’t all be here right now.”

Shalzed wrinkled his forehead. “Pharaoh was obviously required to allow Jacob and his family to resettle. If he refused, they might have died.”

“Is that the way it works wherever you’re from?” Nora asked in a nasty voice. I put a hand on Shalzed’s shoulder because I didn’t want him to get upset either. “What about the Egyptians? If everyone from everywhere came to settle in Egypt, they might have run out of food for themselves, too, and that way everyone would perish.”

“I don’t think any Americans will die if we let in refugees,” I told Nora.

“I’m only saying that countries need to be realistic about what they can handle,” she said back.

Maya made a loud sigh, and my sister chimed in. “It would be really great if we could have just one seder without arguing,” she said

“It’s not arguing,” my dad said. He often came to Nora’s defense in a way that aggravated my mother. “Nora is simply pointing out that accepting refugees can be a significant burden, that’s all.”

My mother seemed annoyed, and she was the kind of person who, when something bothered her, wasn’t going to be quiet. “I think one of the messages of the holiday is that we were once refugees ourselves, and so we should be kind to others in that same situation,” she said.

My brother-in-law Nathan cleared his throat. “It’s getting late,” he said.

I point to the place in Shalzed’s Haggadah. “Why don’t you keep reading?” I told him.

He frowned as everyone stared expectantly at him, then finished the section quoting the verse in which Jacob pleads to be able to stay in Egypt because of the famine.

“You know that the people coming into the U.S. aren’t actually fleeing famine,” Nora said as soon as he was finished. “They’re just poor and think in the U.S. they can have a better standard of living.”

“Some of them are also victims of gangs or domestic violence,” my sister said. “Or they are fleeing from a hurricane or some other natural disaster.”

“I think we need to get to dinner before eleven o’clock,” Nathan said.

“It is currently just 8:30 post meridium in your local time zone,” Shalzed replied.

Nathan chuckled. “I think that was just his way of saying some of us are hungry,” I said.

“Maybe where you’re from, you all just eat in the middle of the night,” Nora said to Shalzed.

“There are various patterns of eating and sleeping due to the great variety in the number of hours of light,” Shalzed began.

“Maybe you can tell us later,” my father interrupted.

I was actually quite curious, because Shalzed almost never revealed anything about himself, his home, or  his technology. Nora could be very persistent, so I wondered if maybe we both asked him questions when we got to the meal, we’d be able to make him talk.

Questions for Discussion:

  1. Does the Torah story of Jacob in Egypt suggest that nations have an obligation to accept refugees? Or is it okay for a country to put its own economic needs or preserving its own culture first?
  2. Does it matter whether refugees are fleeing a natural disaster, such as Jacob and the famine in Canaan, or a man-made problem such as violence, war, or persecution? Should Jewish history affect how we answer that question?
Shalzed at the Seder Table

The Fifth Question: Modern Slavery

by with No Comment passover for youth

The Fifth Question: Modern Slavery

If God hadn't redeemed us, would we still be slaves? What about the Universal Declaration of Human Rights?

Shalzed at the seder table

The Fifth Question: Modern Slavery

I was nervous my family wouldn’t accept Shalzed. We always invited guests to our seders, but being from another planet made Shalzed a little bit- different. He had come to Earth to learn about human rights, but to my surprise when I told him about Passover he wanted to join us too.

My dad greeted him with a handshake. When my mother said hello, she mumbled loud enough for me and my dad to hear that Shalzed was nice, but maybe next year I’d come with a girlfriend. I wished she would stop pushing.

Shalzed was enchanted by the charsoset. My mom gave him a spoonful to try, and I think he would have eaten the whole thing if she hadn’t stopped. After all, we needed it for the seder. Then everyone sat down around the table and we were ready to begin.

My dad said kiddush. Then he got mad at Maya, my niece, because she had her phone out. Maya ran off to the bathroom, and we had to wait for my sister to convince her to come back for Mah Nishanta. Then my dad read from the Haggadah in his deep, serious voice that we were once slaves to Pharoah in Egypt, and if God had not redeemed us then we would be slaves there still.

“Not true,” Shalzed said all of a sudden. “Slavery was done away with by the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.”

My dad stared. He always encouraged us to ask questions at the seder, but usually we didn’t.

My sister waved her hand. “Everyone working at McDonalds or making minimum wage is a slave,” she said. She had a ‘Fight for $15’ bumper sticker on her car.

“That’s not true,” my dad said. “Slavery isn’t just being underpaid, it’s when someone can’t leave.”

“And if you leave your job you can’t afford rent? Or groceries?” my sister asked.  

“When do we eat?” Maya interrupted. I had a feeling she was again sneaking peeks at her phone.

“If you’re hungry there are carrot and celery sticks on the table,” my mom said sternly. I remember her telling me that when I was little, too. I gave Maya a sympathetic smile.

Nathan, my sister’s husband, was usually very quiet. But every once in a while when there was something he felt strongly about he spoke up. “The minerals in every single cell phone battery were most likely dug up by kids Maya’s age who aren’t ever even allowed to leave the mine,” he said.

“And don’t think it’s only Africa,” my sister added. “A lot of farms in the U.S. use illegal workers who can’t leave their jobs because their boss has their passport, or if they quit they’d face deportation.”

My cousin Nora made a snort. The only Jewish thing she did was come to a seder, and I’m pretty sure it was only because my mom insisted. “I think if we would continue reading those little booklets you have, I forget what you call them, everything would be clear. Doesn’t it explain all this later on?”

Nathan and my sister looked back at their haggadahs, expecting my dad to ask one of them to read the next page. But Shalzed spoke. “I don’t understand. How can there still be slavery of any form on Earth, after all countries agreed to ban it?”

“There are new kinds of slavery,” my sister said.

My father, noticing Nora’s scowl and that Maya had her head down, looking at something under the table, said that we needed to continue. He asked Nora to read the wise son, and then Maya complained that she was always the wicked one.

Shalzed seemed deep in thought. “Just because something is in a declaration, that doesn’t mean it’s true in the real world,” I whispered.

He looked at me. “Why not?” he whispered back.

My dad glared because Maya was finally reading what the wicked son says, and we were supposed to be paying attention. I looked back into my Haggadah, and Shalzed followed along in his. But I wondered- even if we wouldn’t still be slaves held in chains building storehouses for Pharoah, could we have become slaves of some other type?

Questions for Discussion:

  1. Can coercion, hard working conditions, and low wages combine to create conditions that are similar to slavery?
  2. Nathan says minerals in cell phone batteries are produced by slave labor. Are we responsible for checking to make sure products we buy are not made this way?
shalzed end of war conference

Do Courts Make Wars Last Longer?

by with No Comment story

Do Courts Make Wars Last Longer?

Shalzed attends a conference on ‘The End of War’

Shalzed examines White chocolate matcha energy bites outside a conference on 'The End of War'

Can international courts help end wars — or do they unintentionally prolong them? Shalzed goes looking for answers. . . and also tries some new cookies at a conference.

Do Courts Make Wars Last Longer?

Shalzed heard about an academic conference titled “The End of War.” Personally, I doubted whether a bunch of college professors really had secrets that could help save the galaxy, but Shalzed was adamant about going. Since it was over President’s day weekend when I had off of school, I agreed.

When we arrived Shalzed was immediately drawn to a platter of round, green cookies next to the coffee. “Are these regenerative nutrient capsules to heal all who have been wounded?” he asked.

I laughed. “No,” I told him. I pointed to a small sign that said, ‘White chocolate matcha energy bites.’ He ate five, and then I steered him towards the hall where the sessions were because  people around the coffee table were starting to give him dirty looks.

There were some introductory speeches, and then a session titled ‘Climate Change as a Conflict Multiplier’ in which panelists took turns explaining how much worse today’s problems were going to become.

“They aren’t giving ways to make peace at all,” Shalzed whispered. I shrugged.

The next session was two women from different universities speaking about the role of international courts in ending wars. One was named Laurie Blank, and the other Daphné Richemond-Barak. Shalzed seemed upset as they explained why courts were of limited use in making peace and could actually end up making wars longer. When it was over, we went to the front because Shalzed had some questions.

As soon as Laurie got free from talking with someone else, Shalzed asked, “I don’t understand. Isn’t anything that holds people accountable a step in the right direction?”

“You’d think so,” she replied. “But remember that peace agreements are made by leaders. One of our key findings is that, ironically, leaders are usually very safe while a war is going on. It’s once the fighting stops that leaders personally are likely to face extreme danger.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. To me that sounded confusing.

She smiled. “When a war ends, often investigators are finally able to get access and document atrocities. That can lead to leaders being indicted. And if there is also a change of government, leaders might lose their immunity or ability to shield themselves from prosecution.”

Shalzed looked aghast. “Do you mean someone might prolong a war, causing suffering for millions, just for their own self-interest?” he asked.

That sounded all too real to me. “According to our research, that happens all the time,” Laurie said.

“Not being able to offer amnesty is also another issue,” Daphne added as the man she had been talking to started walking away.

“Amnesty for what?” I asked.

“War crimes, rebellion. . .” she began.

“The issue is that the International Criminal Court in the Hague is not obligated to honor any amnesty agreements, even if they’re offered by a government,” Laurie interrupted. “Militia members may be extra hesitant to lay down their arms since there is no way to offer assurance that the ICC won’t decide to prosecute them in the future.”

Shalzed’s jaw dropped. “But don’t war crimes have to be punished?” he asked.

Laurie pursed her lips. “Sure,” she said. “But our point is that it’s easy to sit safely far away and demand justice, but insisting that a peace agreement allow for prosecuting war crimes may prolong the fighting and suffering that goes with it.”

I didn’t like the way that sounded. “But if everyone knows they’re likely to get amnesty, what’s the point of having courts to prosecute war crimes to begin with?” I asked.

A man who seemed like he was the next presenter approached and signaled to Daphne that he needed to hook up his computer. She and Laurie both got up to go.

“I like the point you made about jurisdiction,” the man said as he took out his laptop.

Laurie smiled. “Thank you for attending our session,” she replied.

“I didn’t understand that either,” Shalzed said. “If international courts don’t have jurisdiction over conflicts that lead to wars, then what is their point?” he asked.

“They do have jurisdiction,” Laurie answered. “But often over only one side. For example, the International Court of Justice only hears disputes between countries. That means if a country is at war with a non-state armed group, the court has jurisdiction over the country only, but not the people it is fighting.”

“That’s why only Israel is on trial at the International Court of Justice, but not Hamas,” I added.

“Exactly,” Daphne replied. “And the International Criminal Court is supposed to have jurisdiction to prosecute all war crimes and crimes against humanity. But it can’t possibly look at everything, so it focuses only on what the prosecutor believes is most serious.

“So they pick and choose?” Shalzed asked.

“They have to. And when the prosecutor decides not to investigate a crime because it doesn’t seem serious enough, victims of those crimes get angry and say it’s not fair,” Daphne said.

The next presenter cleared his throat and glanced at the room, which was rapidly filling. Daphne took another step to go, but then a woman came and asked if she would autograph her book, titled Underground Warfare. People were still filing in, so she took a pen from purse. As she did so, the woman remarked that after listening to the talk she was starting to wonder if maybe we’d be better off without any international courts at all.

“Absolutely not,” Daphne said as she signed inside the front cover. “International courts have vital functions. We’re just pointing out that ending a war is a political decision, shaped by military, diplomatic, and economic conditions, not courts. That’s all.”

“And courts can easily complicate the peacemaking process rather than help,” Laurie added. “When a court gets involved while a war is still going, the court itself becomes a weapon as well.”

The woman put her signed book in her purse and gestured to the nearly full room. “The next session is titled ‘Hope as policy, peace as process,’ she said. “Everyone will want to come.” She scurried to take the last empty seat in the first row.

“Judges can at least document facts,” Shalzed said.

Daphne put her pen back in her purse and nodded. “That’s true, but courts do that best after a war is finished. While a war is still going on, they have limited ability to get full information, and are prone to being misled by propaganda from one or both of the sides.”

“Especially if not all parties to the conflict agree to cooperate,” Laurie added. Laurie and Daphne headed towards the stairs, and I sort of hoped Shalzed would follow their lead and decide to skip the next session. But instead, he found us two empty seats.

“I’m excited about this next speaker,” Shalzed said as we took our places.

I wrinkled my forehead. “Why?” I asked.

“If peace is a process, it must be about to finish.”

The man in front of us laughed and turned around. “Peace is a never-ending process,” he said.

Shalzed frowned. “Then does war ever end?”

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Source: The ideas in this piece are taken from a recent series of articles on the website Just Security, asking if there is a role for international courts in ending wars. Link here.