shalzed and simon at the state dept

From Green Onions to the United Nations

by with No Comment story

From Green Onions to the United Nations

Shalzed wants to know why the U.S. is pulling out of international organizations

Shalzed and Simon outside the State Dept. in Washington D.V.

Shalzed came to Earth believing international law — and the web of institutions built around it — offered a model for peace, not just here but across the galaxy.

But last week the U.S. withdrew from 66 international organizations. In this episode, Shalzed confronts U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio to find out whether this vision is falling apart.

From Green Onions to the United Nations

I hurried into shul with a bag full of groceries. Rabbi Shayerman trusted me, but the policy was very strict that he had to check everything in. I wanted to be able to start working on the kiddush before he got caught up with his ‘pizza and parsha’ class for youth.

It only took the rabbi a minute to find all the hechshers. He grabbed a stack of napkins and paper plates and headed to the social hall, and I started chopping green onions for the tuna salad. Then Shalzed called.

“Why is President Trump withdrawing the United States from international organizations?” he asked. “They are all places for countries to resolve disputes and work together.”

I hadn’t heard anything about this, but it did sound like something Trump would do. “What organizations?” I asked.

“About half are connected to the United Nations,” he said. “And the United Nations is the primary body you use to keep peace and security on your planet.”

Before I could say anything else, I was in the dark tunnel with points of light that by now had become familiar. This time I tried to listen as best I could for any sounds that would give information about how it worked. I didn’t hear anything like motion or machinery, though, and a moment later I was standing next to Shalzed in the office of Marco Rubio at Foggy Bottom.

Rubio was sitting behind an enormous, wood desk, looking at his computer. “Mr. Secretary,” Shalzed began. “Why are you trying to undermine the United Nations?”

Rubio looked up and wrinkled his forehead. “Where have I seen you two before?” he asked.

Just a week ago Shalzed had taken me to Mar-a-Lago to confront Rubio about the U.S. nabbing Maduro out of Venezuela. “We travel a lot,” I told him.

“I don’t know how you got in here, and I have a meeting in just a moment,” Rubio said. “But no, the United States is absolutely not trying to undermine the United Nations.”

Shalzed put his hands on his hips. “You just announced that you’re withdrawing from 31 UN organizations, and a bunch of other non-UN organizations too.” he said.

Rubio shook his head. “The United States strongly believes in the United Nations. But only as a forum for diplomacy. Why does the UN have dozens of little agencies, most of which are redundant, wasteful, and counter to our interests?”

“Does that mean you’re upset other countries don’t always go along and give the United States everything it wants?” I asked.

Rubio closed his laptop and crossed his arms against this chest. “Absolutely not. Take for example the UN Democracy Fund. It just gave money for a program that it claims helps youth in Argentina strengthen their critical thinking. And they sponsored a program to increase women’s political participation in Baluchistan.”

“Baluchistan?” I interjected.

“It’s a region in Pakistan,” Rubio said quickly. “The point is that these are things that if wanted, countries should do them on their own. The UN was never meant to have billions of dollars to spend on do-gooder projects wherever they please.”

“But maybe these projects are valuable?” Shalzed suggested.

Rubio shrugged. “Maybe. But the UN should be only the General Assembly and Security Council. It shouldn’t try to do the job of its member states, and when it does it’s an affront to states’ sovereignty besides.”

A man I didn’t recognize wearing a beige suit and striped tie entered the office. He had a senate pin on his suit jacket and was wearing a VIP badge around his neck. “Thanks for taking the time,” he said, striding over to Rubio’s desk. “Great work on cutting us out of 66 agencies, but I wish you had pulled out of a few more.”

Rubio stood up to shake his hand. The man turned to us. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “Rand Paul from Kentucky.”

“I am Shalzed,” Shalzed said. Paul stared at him expectantly. After an awkward silence Paul said, “You must both be awfully important if they let you in without ID badges.”

“We arrived a different way, not through downstairs,” I said, trying to laugh.

“I doubt you were able to parachute in through the window,” Paul said with a chuckle. He turned to Rubio. “Maybe some of the money we saved by withdrawing from those organizations ought to go towards State Department security.”

“It’s a form of tzedakah,” I said, as I had no idea how Shalzed could explain our arrival without getting us into all sorts of trouble. Rubio, Rand Paul, and Shalzed all gave me blank looks, and I realized I had used a Hebrew term. “Charity,” I told them. “A lot of the countries that benefit from these programs probably don’t have enough money to do these things themselves.”

Rand Paul waved a dismissive hand. “The U.S. is still a part of UNICEF and the World Food Programme,” he replied. “I never advocated against that. It’s just small bureaucracies that are ideologically driven and wasteful that we want to get out.”

“It’s only a miniscule part of the U.S. government’s budget,” Shalzed said.

“Let me tell you something,” Rand Paul said, turning towards us. “Imagine standing outside a gas station somewhere in Kentucky and asking folks as they walk by if they want their tax dollars going to the International Cotton Advisory Committee. Or the Venice Commission of the Council of Europe. Or the UN Permanent Forum on People of African Descent. Not one of them will say yes. Finally we have an administration that actually listens to the people.”

“It’s a lot more cost effective to resolve disputes in these forums than to risk them deteriorating into violence,” shalzed said.

“Exactly,” Rubio responded. “That’s what the United Nations General Assembly and Security Council are for. But no more unelected, unaccountable international bureaucracies pursuing their own agendas while the United States foots the bill.”

“I’m just curious,” Paul interrupted. “If you parachuted in, are you going to leave by parachute too? Because I think the fine gentlemen downstairs at the exit will be awfully concerned about your badges.”

“I have no worry,” Shalzed said simply.

Paul laughed. “If you have badges in your pocket you should take them out,” he said.

“And I think you should be going,” Rubio added.

I tugged Shalzed’s arm. “Time to leave,” I told him.

“Fine,” he said, not sounding happy. He turned to Rubio and Paul. “But most problems cannot be resolved by any one country. Aren’t international organizations the only way?”

“For that there are bilateral agreements,” Rubio said. “And I think I’ll call security, they’d like to see your badge.”

Just as he picked up his desk phone I was back in the black tunnel. I tried to concentrate on Marco Rubio’s face, to see if he had any reaction, but the transition was too fast. I wondered what he saw? A moment later I was in the synagogue kitchen, right in front of the cutting board with green onions waiting to be chopped.

I took a moment to get my bearings, then picked up the knife. Rabbi Shayerman came in and looked around. “I thought you were in a hurry,” he said to me.

“Right,” I said. He glanced at the onions waiting on the table, only half of the first one chopped. “I got a call on the phone,” I told him. That was at least partially true- Shalzed had called before he took me to Washington. But there was no way I could explain that.

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Questions:

  1. The United Nations has grown far beyond a forum for diplomacy, taking on work in areas like development, democracy, environmental protection, and human rights.
    Do you see this expansion as necessary for solving global problems—or as an example of unaccountable bureaucracies encroaching on state sovereignty?

  2. Withdrawing from 66 international organizations saved the U.S. only a negligible amount of money. Even if some of these organizations are inefficient, was withdrawal worth the cost in lost influence—or does influence matter less than principle here?
Shalzed and Simon at Mar-a-Lago

When the UN Charter Meets Black Ops

by with No Comment shalzedstory

When the UN Charter Meets Black Ops

Shalzed Confronts Marco Rubio Over the Maduro Abduction

Shalzed and Simon waiting for Marco Rubio at Mar-a-Lago

International law says no. Reality is a maybe.
This week, Shalzed and Simon go to Mar-a-Lago to ask Marco Rubio what the rules mean when it comes to Venezuela.

When the UN Charter Meets Black Ops

I usually don’t watch the news, but I was surprised enough by the U.S. abduction of Nicolas Maduro to turn on the television while I made oatmeal and toast for my Sunday morning breakfast. Experts were speculating about what’s next for Venezuela. Then, just as Chuck Schumer was complaining that Trump failed to notify Congress, Shalzed called.

“How can one country send its army to capture the leader of another?” he asked. “Isn’t that against the most fundamental rules of international law?”

That’s pretty much what Schumer was now saying on TV. “The Democrats seem to agree with you,” I said as I turned the volume down.

“Democrats?” Shalzed asked. “But the prohibition on using force is in the charter of your United Nations. What does that have to do with Democrats or Republicans?”

Before I could say anything, I was in the black tunnel I had already grown accustomed to. This time, since by now I was no longer afraid or panicked, I tried to feel around to sense if there were walls or if I was traveling inside of some sort of vessel. I didn’t feel anything, and then a moment later I was outside Trump’s Mar-a-Lago country club in Palm Beach, Florida. Shalzed was next to me. We were standing on a wide sidewalk lined by neatly trimmed hedges with a vast, manicured lawn on either side. Through the palm trees, I could just make out the ocean.

“Mr. Secretary,” Shalzed exclaimed, starting up the path towards the main entrance. Marco Rubio was coming out. He looked tired. He had his suit jacket folded over his arm, with a red tie hanging out of his pants pocket.

“Who are you?” Rubio asked. He looked Shalzed over, then glanced at me as I came up behind.

“Wasn’t sending troops to abduct Maduro a flagrant violation of international law?” Shalzed asked.

Rubio shook his head. “Of course not. It was actually law enforcement. Maduro was indicted for trafficking cocaine, and now he’ll face trial in New York.”

“The U.S. can’t make arrests in other countries,” I said. I may not be a lawyer, but at least I know that much.

“And Maduro has immunity as a head of state,” Shalzed added.

Rubio scoffed. “Maduro was the head of a drug trafficking operation masquerading as a government,” he said. “He rigged the last election to stay in power, so he’s not a legitimate president at all.”

“So the United States gets to decide which governments are legitimate—and send in troops when needed?” Shalzed asked.

Rubio sighed. “It’s been a long night, gentlemen,” he said. “I don’t recall seeing either of you before in the ballroom, are you guests for just a few nights? Or are you here for a round of golf?” He raised his eyebrows. I read somewhere that joining Mar-a-Lago costs $1 million upfront, then $20,000 in dues annually. I was wearing jeans and an old Camp Ramah T-shirt, so I probably didn’t look like I belonged.

“He’s come from very far just to be here,” I said, gesturing to Shalzed. However he got us in, I hoped he would also get us out before we were picked up by the secret service.

“Do you really want to undo the principle that countries have to respect each other’s sovereignty?” Shalzed asked. “Isn’t that the key to peace, and fundamental to the UN Charter?”

Rubio shrugged. “The problem with sovereignty is that it usually winds up being used to protect tyrants and dictators.” He tossed his suit jacket over his shoulder and put his hands on his hips. “Do you realize that nearly 8 million Venezuelans have fled due to Maduro, and about 750,000 of them are in the United States. Biden gave most of them protected status because they face persecution back home. How can the U.S. be obligated to bear all these refugees, but not be allowed to do anything about what’s causing them to seek refuge in the first place?”

“But whatever is to be done has to be decided by the UN Security Council,” Shalzed said. “It can’t be left up to only one country.”

Rubio waved an arm. “That wouldn’t work. Russia and China would use their veto.”

“As if the United States doesn’t use its veto, too,” I added.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see a man in a dark suit with a listening device in his ear behind me. “Mr. Rubio is a busy man,” he said. “I think he needs to get going.”

“Enjoy the golf course, gentlemen,” Rubio said. “Assuming you’ve actually reserved a tee time.”

Rubio walked around us and headed towards the gate, where a black SUV was waiting.

“What are your names?” the man in the dark suit asked. He took a tablet computer from his jacket pocket and opened a page with a list of registered Mar-a-Lago guests. “And I may need to see some ID.”

“Listen,” I said, trying to think of something to say. I realized that I didn’t even have my wallet, my pockets were empty when Shalzed whisked me away. I turned to Shalzed, who was staring at Rubio as he left.

“Are the two of you not on the guest list?” the man asked, pretending to be surprised.

“Um,” I mumbled, touching Shalzed on the elbow. When he finally turned I gave him a pleading look.

I felt relieved to suddenly be back in the black tunnel. I wondered if Shalzed would still have been able to pull off his transportation trick if the guy had put us in handcuffs. Before I knew it I was in my apartment. I smelled something burning and look at the stove. The oatmeal had been on the fire the whole time. The water had all boiled off, and as I turned off the flame I wondered if the pot was ruined.

Shalzed was with me in the kitchen. “How long were we gone for?” I asked him, pointing to the burned oatmeal. I wondered if this could finally be a way to get some information on how his black tunnel worked.

But instead of answering, Shalzed stared at the television. This Week With George Stephanopoulos was still on, and the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights was explaining that even though Maduro had a longstanding, appalling record on human rights, that was no reason to justify U.S. intervention in Venezuela.

“But Maduro has been in power for over a decade,” Shalzed said. “And the Human Rights Council never did anything about it.”

“It does seem strange to see the High Commissioner for Human Rights arguing that Maduro should still be in power,” I added.

I wondered if Shalzed was hungry. “I’m going to make some more oatmeal,” I told him. “Would you like some?”

He looked at the burned pot. “Why?” he asked.

I smiled, thinking maybe this was my chance. “Because that pot was on the stove when you took us to Mar-a-Lago. Since we were there for only about seven or eight minutes, that must mean that we spent at least three or four minutes in transit each way, or the oatmeal wouldn’t be so burned. Right?” I asked.

“It looks delicious,” he said. He went to the pot and pulled out a few black, dried-out oats. He put them in his mouth and smiled. “It reminds me of the food we serve at festivals.”

“So you transported us from here to Florida in three or four minutes,” I repeated, hoping he would confirm or deny.

But instead, he turned back to the television. It was showing footage of Venezuelan exiles celebrating in Miami. One of them told a reporter that while he was fearful for his family back in Caracas, he was grateful to Trump and hoped this would finally be a chance for Venezuela to experience freedom.

“Is the High Commissioner for Human Rights going to tell them that they’ve got it all backwards?” I wondered out loud.

Shalzed shrugged. “Can I take that with me?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, handing him the burned pot. I doubted I would be able to clean it anyway.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m starting to wonder whether Earth’s international law and human rights work as well as I thought. But I’m glad that at least I discovered this delicious food called oatmeal.”

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Questions:

  1. The prohibition on the use of force in international relations is a bedrock of peace and stability. However, human rights are also a key value, and oppressive regimes can use the prohibition on force as a shield to protect themselves from consequences. Which value is more important? How do we decide?
  2. Approximately 8 million Venezuelan citizens have fled their country, seeking refuge from Maduro’s regime. Many have settled in Central or South America, and about 750,000 are in the United States. Does bearing the cost of caring for refugees give states a special right to use force to change the conditions that caused their flight?
shalzed and simon at the un

Israel, Somaliland, and the Flexible Definition of a State

by with No Comment shalzedstory

Israel, Somaliland, and the Flexible Definition of a State

A visit to the UN Security Council, where principles stretch under pressure

Shalzed and Simon at the UN Security Council in NY

Somaliland has its own political system, currency, and police force — and has been separate from Somalia for over thirty years.

Last week, when Israel extended official recognition, critics cried “meddling.” Supporters say recognition reflects reality on the ground.

But what’s the difference between that and Palestine?

Shalzed and Simon attend an emergency meeting of the UN Security Council to watch diplomats bend their principles when self-interest is at stake.

Israel, Somaliland, and the Flexible Definition of a State

I was on my way home from school, about to head into Stop’n Shop to buy something to make for dinner, when Shalzed called. “Why does the United Nations Security Council think recognizing Somaliland is a threat to peace and security? They are even having a special session about it.”

“About what?” I asked.

“Somaliland,” Shalzed repeated.

 I had never heard of it. “What’s that?” I asked.

“Somaliland has been independent from Somalia for over 30 years. It has its own elections, government, currency and police,” he said. “Now Israel was the first country to recognize it as a state.”

I had no idea why that was important, but before I could say anything I was whisked into the dark tunnel that by now seemed second nature. A moment later I was seated next to Shalzed in the UN Security Council visitor’s gallery in New York.

              “I don’t see the problem, let alone a threat to security,” Shalzed said to me, as if instantaneous travel across long distances was no big deal. “If the people living in Somaliland want to be independent, isn’t it their right?”

              “How did you get us in here?” I asked.

              Shalzed turned towards the podium, as he always refuses to answer that question. The French delegate was announcing that her country opposed Israel’s decision. “Internal disputes within Somalia must be resolved in a negotiated manner,”  she said.

              “But if the people in Somaliland believe that they can achieve better freedom or more stability from being separate, shouldn’t that be their right?” Shalzed asked me again. “Why should Somalia have a veto?”

              I shrugged. “I guess they don’t want every group to secede and start their own country,” I told him. I made a point of whispering, hoping he would also keep his voice down.

              When the French delegate finished, the U.S. representative took the floor. She said Israel has the right to conduct its own diplomatic relations. Then she added that just a few months ago several countries unilaterally recognized a Palestinian state, and there was no emergency meeting called to express outrage about that.

              “That’s a good point,” I said quietly to Shalzed. “Isn’t that exactly what Israel and the U.S. say about Palestine, that statehood should only come about via negotiation?”

              Shalzed frowned. “There must be some difference,” he said.

              The observer from the African Union was next. He said recognition of Somaliland is an attempt to undermine Somalia’s unity, sovereignty and territorial integrity, and is against international law. Then he added that the UN Charter requires the full recognition of Palestinians’ legitimate right to establish an independent state.

              Shalzed shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said to me. I gestured for him to whisper, but he seemed too upset. “If it’s against international law to recognize Somaliland’s independence without Somalia’s agreement, then how can countries recognize Palestine even though Israel is opposed? And if Israel says no countries should recognize Palestine without its consent via negotiations, why is it going ahead and recognizing Somaliland as an independent state?”

              An African man wearing a bright red shirt with purple stripes sitting in the row behind us tapped Shalzed on the shoulder. “Just another day at the United Nations,” he said. “Now can you please be quiet?”

              Shalzed glared at him, then turned back to the proceedings. The representatives took turns talking, saying pretty much the same things. When it was over Shalzed jumped to his feet. “I have some questions,” he said. He headed towards the exit, pushing people out of his way so aggressively many stopped to stare. I apologized on Shalzed’s behalf as I tried to follow, mumbling that Shalzed ‘was not from here’.

              When I finally reached the hallway Shalzed was already in the middle of the foyer, talking to a man I recognized as Danny Danon, Israel’s Ambassador. I did my best to avoid colliding with diplomats leaving the Security Council chamber as I headed over.

              “Somaliland has a permanent population, independent government, defined territory, and capacity to conduct international relations,” Danon was saying. “So according to the Montevideo Convention, it meets all the criteria for statehood. Palestine doesn’t have a government, since it’s split between Hamas and the Palestinian Authority, and neither has had free and fair elections for ages. And Palestine doesn’t have a defined territory because its borders aren’t resolved.”

              The French representative had been walking by, but she paused and turned towards Danon. “That’s absurd,” she said in a thick French accent. “The Palestinian Authority is recognized internationally as a legitimate government. The fact that exact borders must still be negotiated doesn’t mean Palestine lacks a defined territory. Somaliland was once a part of Somalia, that’s why it can’t become an independent state unilaterally. But Palestine was never part of Israel, it’s occupied.”

              Shalzed looked confused. “I have a tv interview waiting,” Danon said, starting to go.

              “If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like a word with you first,” the French Ambassador told him.

              “About what?” Danon asked with a frown.

              The French ambassador gestured towards Shalzed and me. “I’ll be happy to tell you in just a moment.”

              “If you’re so certain that Somaliland should be independent, why did it take you thirty years?” Shalzed asked Danon. I wondered if he was oblivious to the fact they wanted us to leave, or just didn’t care.

              Danon smiled. “Better late than never.”

              That was ridiculous. “Israel’s government has been too busy for the last three decades?” I asked him.

Danon clicked his tongue. “Listen,” he said. “No matter the law, states only extend recognition when conditions are right strategically and politically.”

              “In other words, right now an alliance with Somaliland serves Israel’s interests,” I said.

              Shalzed turned to the French Ambassador. “Do you really believe Palestine has a functioning government, even though Abbas was last elected in 2005, for a term that was supposed to be four years, and he is only in charge of the West Bank while Hamas runs Gaza?” he asked.

              “Recognition is necessary to preserve the possibility of a future Palestinian state,” she replied. “Recognizing the Palestinian people’s right to self-determination is the only way towards a future without permanent conflict.”

              “But. . .” Shalzed began.

              “Excusez-nous,” the French Ambassador said, gesturing us aside.

              “L’hitraot,” Danon added. He must have assumed from my kippah that I know at least a little Hebrew.

              “You’re both contradicting yourselves,” Shalzed said.

              “C’est la vie,” the French ambassador replied, waving her arm. She pulled Danon away, towards a quiet corner. “Au revoir.”

              Shalzed stared at them for a moment with his hands on his hips, and a man wearing an ‘S’ badge, meaning that he was a member of the secretariat, bumped into him. “You can’t stand here, right in the middle of the hallway,” he said. Then he looked at us more closely. “What badge do you two have?”

              Shalzed looked at me. “Isn’t this all just politics pretending to be about law?” he asked.

              The guy from the Secretariat looked at us suspiciously. “If you don’t have badges, I highly suggest you leave,” he said before I could figure out anything to say to Shalzed.

              Suddenly I was in the black tunnel with points of light, then a moment later I found myself back in my apartment. I had meant to buy something to cook for dinner at Stop’n Shop, but now if I wanted to do that I’d have to get my bike out or wait for the bus. Then I realized I still had a pizza in the freezer- that would do.

              I looked around and Shalzed wasn’t here, and he wasn’t calling me on the phone. I baked the pizza in the oven then watched sports bloopers on YouTube while I ate. In a way I was glad Shalzed let me alone, since I was hungry. But I also worried. He told me he came to Earth because he thought our system of international law and human rights could be the secret to peace not only here but also on his home planet. I felt sort of guilty, like I was letting him down. Now that he sees how easily international law is warped by politics, I wondered if he would even bother to stay.

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Sources:

Coverage of Israel’s recognition of Somaliland from the BBC

Summary of UN deliberations

 

Questions:

  1. Is it hypocritical to recognize Palestine or Somaliland, but not the other? Or are there valid distinctions between the two cases?
  2. Since every new state necessarily takes territory from an existing one, governments tend to frame secession as an illegal threat to sovereignty, while seceding populations frame it as necessary to fulfill their right of self-determination. Are there any objective criteria that can determine who is right, or does recognition always depend on power and politics?
shalzed and simon examine surveillance device

The Camera That Solved a Shooting — and Tracks You, Too

by with No Comment shalzedstory

The Camera That Solved a Shooting — and Tracks You, Too

When security wins, Does Freedom Lose?

Shalzed and Simon examine a surveillance device

The Brown University shooter was caught using Flock cameras — AI-powered systems that track cars by unique “vehicle fingerprints,” now installed across the U.S.

These cameras aid investigations, but do they also open the door to mass surveillance and invite police abuse?
Shalzed and Simon meet Flock’s CEO to find out.

The Camera That Solved a Shooting — and Tracks You, Too

I was sitting on my couch watching the evening news, which had on a long segment explaining how the police were able to track down the person responsible for the shooting at Brown University and killing an MIT professor. Once they got a tip on the suspect’s car, they used artificial intelligence cameras from a company called Flock to locate it. Flock cameras identify every car that passes within range, not only by license plates but also by developing what they call a ‘vehicle fingerprint’ which consists of anything distinctive like a bumper sticker, dent, or aftermarket part. That’s how the police caught the suspect even though he switched the car’s license plates.

As soon as the news switched to weather Shalzed called. “I don’t understand,” he told me. “How can AI cameras be in such wide use? Aren’t they a threat to basic freedom?”

I had never really thought about that. “Well, if the cameras just record cars going by I don’t see why it’s a problem,” I told him.

“But it’s a form of mass surveillance. Humans will become afraid to exercise their freedom if they know they can easily be watched.”

All of a sudden I was back in the black tunnel I was by now getting used to, staring at little points of light. Then I was standing in the Atlanta office of Flock Safety CEO Garrett Langley. Langley looked so young he might still even be in his twenties- maybe not surprising since he only founded the company in 2017 after tinkering with surveillance cameras at his own dining room table. His desk was clear, and he was staring intently at his laptop computer. Someone on the computer screen yelled, ‘Help, help!’ and Langley smiled.

“Watching a movie?” I asked.

Langley looked up and noticed us for the first time. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Don’t the cameras you sell threaten people’s basic rights and freedom?” Shalzed asked.

Langley waved his hand. “What we do is make communities safer,” he said. “Just look at how we helped catch the Rhode Island shooter last week.”

“But what if these cameras are abused?” Shalzed asked. “They could be used to track anyone who attended a political demonstration.”

Langley shrugged. “Our cameras are just a tool,” he said. “If law enforcement misuses it, hold them accountable, not me. Now I want to know how you got into my office.”

“Check your surveillance cameras,” Shalzed said. I laughed. Shalzed refused to tell me anything about how his transport system works, but I was pretty sure we wouldn’t show up. “Police could even use your cameras to track women who travel out of state for an abortion.”

The phone on Langley’s desk buzzed. “Matt Feury is here,” a female voice said.

“Send him in,” Langley said. Then he looked at Shalzed. “I most certainly intend to check surveillance, and if you broke any trespassing laws you’ll be hearing from the authorities.”

“What stops individual police officers from using Flock cameras for stalking?” Shalzed asked. “Like the police chief in Kansas who used your cameras to keep tabs on his ex-girlfriend? Or the police chief in Georgia who used the cameras to stalk women? Or the one in Wisconsin who went so far as to have a Flock camera installed right outside of his house to monitor his wife during their divorce?”

Langley shook his head. “Like I told you, blame the officers and hold them accountable, not us.”

I have to admit I was kind of shocked. “Do you mean that any policeman anywhere can just type the description of a car or a license plate into the computer and find out exactly where that car has been driven?” I asked. I imagined how easy it would be, then, for police to spy on their wives or girlfriends, or on anyone else they had an interest in.

“They’re not supposed to,” Langley replied. “And anytime a law enforcement officer does a search they are required to enter the reason.”

“But they can enter anything,” Shalzed said. “They can easily just type ‘investigation’ in the reason field, or something generic like that. How many officers need to misuse it before that misuse becomes an expected feature??”

Matt Feury entered the office, carrying a large round device with an array of what looked like microphones sticking up on top.

“I was just reviewing the test results,” Langley said to him.

“Who are these people?” Feury asked.

“What is that?” Shalzed asked, pointing to the device in Feury’s hands.

Feury glanced at Langley. “It’s no secret,” Langley said, nodding permission for Feury to respond.

“It’s called Raven. The old models can detect sounds like gunshots and immediately notify police. Now we’ve upgraded it to detect sounds of human distress also.”

“Human distress?” I asked, not sure what he meant.

“Like someone yelling ‘Help, Help!’ Feury explained. “Our new Ravens can sort through background noise to detect someone yelling for help and immediately notify police.”

“While recording everything the raven is able to pick up?” Shalzed asked.

“And if you can identify cars by dents or bumper stickers, I imagine you can also identify people by their faces,” I added. The thought of these devices recording so much information began to make me feel uneasy.

“The alternative is letting mass shooters go free. Now do I need to call security?” Langley asked, gesturing towards his office door.

“Don’t bother,” Shalzed replied. “Just one more question. How can we be sure you’ll only sell these devices to law enforcement?”

“We don’t,” Langley replied. “We sell to homeowner associations, private businesses, neighborhood associations, and property managers too.”

“You mean they all have access to location data on cars?” I asked.

“What if a private business owner buys a camera and then uses it for stalking or harassment?” Shalzed asked. “Who can hold them accountable for that?”

“We have systems in place to prevent that,” Langley said. “Now Matt and I have a meeting. There’s the door.”

“I don’t think your privacy protections are strong enough,” I told him.

“Good to hear your thoughts. Should I call security?” Langley asked, gesturing for Feury to take a seat.

All of a sudden I was back in the dark tunnel. I waved my arms a bit, wondering if I could touch anything. Was I inside some sort of machine, or maybe somehow flying? I felt like by now Shalzed owed it to me to at least explain a little bit about how this works. Then I was back in my apartment. The news was over and now a late-night comedy show had come on.

Shalzed was with me, standing next to the kitchen table. I realized this was the first time he had ever been in my apartment.

“What’s that?” Shalzed asked, pointing worriedly at the mezuzah on my bedroom door.

“It contains a scroll with passages from the Torah,” I told him, not sure why he looked upset. “It’s called a mezuzah. According to the Jewish tradition, we put them on doors.”

Shalzed relazed. “I thought it might be a listening device,” he said.

I laughed. “No listening devices in my apartment, at least as far as I know.” Then I wondered about my Ring doorbell and Amazon Alexa. Could Flock access their data and combine it with their traffic cameras too?

“Do humans realize how much of their freedom they are potentially sacrificing in order to fight crime?” Shalzed asked. “Because fighting crime is hardly the only use these cameras can be put to.”

I used the remote to turn off the TV. “Now I have a serious question,” I said. “I think I deserve at least a little information about how you transport the two of us anywhere in the world.”

“I have to be going,” Shalzed said.

“Please. Just a little information would be nice. I mean, is it dangerous?” I asked him.

Shalzed opened the door. “Another mezuzah,” he said, pointing to the silver one I had on the entrance.

“I promise whatever you tell me will stay a secret,” I said. “But since you’re transporting me with you, I think I have the right to know.”

“But maybe your apartment really does contain some secret listening device,” he said. “With AI everywhere, it’s best to be careful.” He slipped out and closed the door.

I sighed, then pushed live view on my phone and watched Shalzed leave via my Ring doorbell. I wondered where he stayed when I wasn’t with him. Maybe if I had access to Flock’s surveillance systems, I would be able to know.

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shalzed and simon outside cafe maya

The Human Rights Report Amnesty Doesn’t Want You to Find

by with No Comment shalzedstory

The Human Rights Report Amnesty Doesn’t Want You to Find

Shalzed asks Amnesty International’s Secretary General Why She’s Hiding Their Report on Hamas

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

This week Amnesty International finally released a report documenting Hamas atrocities. But it’s camouflaged under a misleading title and hidden on their website. Shalzed and Simon travel to London to ask Amnesty’s Secretary General why.

The Human Rights Report Amnesty Doesn’t Want You to Find

I had stopped grading Mishnah quizzes to watch the second half of the game between the Chargers and Seahawks. The game was tied, but Stafford just completed a 50 yard pass to Puka Nacua to set the Rams up first and goal in position to score another touchdown. Then Shalzed called.

“I heard Amnesty International released a report about war crimes and crimes against humanity perpetrated by Hamas against Israel,” he said. “But I can’t find it.”

“It would have to be on their website,” I said as the Rams got stuffed trying to run up the middle.

“Their home page has links to articles titled, ‘Stand with women accused of witchcraft in Ghana’ and ‘Demand accountability in Tanzania’, but there is nothing about Hamas.”

I typed Amnesty.org into my phone and clicked on the page about Israel and the Occupied territories. There was nothing about Hamas there, either.

“Maybe I heard wrong, and they didn’t write it?” Shalzed asked.

The most recent post was titled, “Sustainable peace requires international justice for all victims of all crimes in Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territory.” Even though it sounded like a general press release, I clicked to read. It contained a long summary of Amnesty’s evidence that Israel is guilty of genocide, ethnic cleansing, and apartheid. Then I noticed a sentence about Hamas that linked to the new report.

“Found it,” I said.

“Where?” Shalzed asked. “Why is it so hard to find? I want to find out what’s going on.”

Just as the Rams were lining up for second down I was back in the black tunnel I had become used to, with points of light all circling around. Then I was inside a place called Café Maya in central London, right near the Peter Benenson House where Amnesty International is headquartered. Shalzed was next to me, as Amnesty Secretary General Agnès Callamard paid for her latte.

Shalzed approached her as she made her way to the area where people wait to pick up their orders. “Bonjour, Madam,” he said. “I wanted to read Amnesty’s report on Hamas war crimes, and I don’t understand why it is so difficult to find on your site.”

She looked him over carefully, probably trying to judge whether he was a threat to her safety. “It’s there,” she said simply.

“The title makes it sound like it’s just a general op-ed. Hamas isn’t even mentioned,” I said.

“C’est comme ça,” she said, waving her hand. “The title mentions justice, that’s what it’s really all about.”

I looked more at Amnesty’s website, still open on my phone. “On November 27th you released a report titled ‘Israel’s genocide in the occupied Gaza strip continues’. The report before that is titled ‘What states and companies must do to stop fueling Israel’s genocide, apartheid, and unlawful occupation.’ When it comes to criticizing Israel you’re quite outspoken, then when Hamas commits crimes you seem to have trouble even saying it directly.”

“Listen,” Callamard said. “We must be very conscious that Hamas violations can be instrumentalized to justify further large-scale harm to Palestinian civilians.”

“And isn’t there a fear that the inflammatory accusations against Israel you make so often will encourage violence against Israelis and Jews,” I asked her, thinking of the recent Chanukah attack in Australia along with many others.

“If Hamas’s crimes aren’t clearly condemned, why shouldn’t they commit them again?” Shalzed asked.

She checked her phone, as though she might be worried about being late for an appointment. “You have to remember, Israel is a sovereign state with a powerful army,” she said softly. “Palestinians are resisting discrimination and oppression. The situations are not equal.”

“Can I get something for you two, mates,” the barista called to us. She was probably wondering why we hadn’t gone straight up to the counter since there was no one in line.

“I’m good,” I told her.

“You just came in to talk to the ladies?” she asked with a frown.

“I have to be going,” Callamard said, giving the check out barista a smile. She glanced at the man behind the counter preparing her drink.

“Why did it take so long for this report to come out?” Shalzed asked. “It’s been well over two years since the attack of October 7th, 2023.”

“We pride ourselves on doing careful research and documenting our sources. That’s extremely difficult in a war zone,” Callamard said.

I couldn’t help but speak up. “In that period of time you’ve managed to release countless reports against Israel. Already a year ago you put out a 290 page report saying Israel was guilty of genocide.”

Callamard sighed. “There was significant internal disagreement about whether releasing a standalone report on Hamas was even responsible in the current context.”

Shalzed looked shocked. “What context?” he asked, his eyes going wide. “Isn’t Amnesty’s entire mission to document violations of all human rights, without exception?”

“Agnes,” the barista called, putting a medium size paper cup on the counter. “You did say it’s for taking away?” he asked.

“Oui oui,” she replied, grabbing the cup.

I quickly clicked to view the ‘our mission’ page on Amnesty’s website. “It says right here that universality and impartiality are your core values,” I added, showing her my phone.

“Some people were worried that a report focused on Hamas could be instrumentalized to justify harsher measures in Gaza,” she said. “Or even undermine efforts toward Palestinian statehood at the UN.”

“That doesn’t sound like impartiality,” I told her. “It sounds more like advocacy for Palestine.”

“Well of course,” she said. “Palestinians are powerless victims fighting state-backed oppression of the most brutal kind. As human rights advocates, how could we not take their side?”

“What about Israelis who are victims of indiscriminate rocket attacks, terrorism, boycotts, and other harassment?” I asked her. “Let alone told their country is racist, illegitimate, and should be dismantled? How about advocating for their rights?”

Callamard shook her head. “Of course Israelis also suffer. But they are the powerful group, benefiting from injustice. Palestinians are the ones whose human rights are being violated systematically.” Her phone buzzed. “And now I have to run back for a meeting at my office. Au revoir,” she said, heading out the door.

Shalzed turned to me. “I don’t understand. I thought human rights always applied to everyone equally? That’s how Earth maintains peace, even when groups of humans come into conflict and disagree about who’s right and who’s wrong.”

I sighed. “Did you two mates want to place an order?” the barista at the register asked again, raising her eyebrows.

I was about to ask for a smoothie when Shalzed said no thank you. Then I was back in the black tunnel, watching points of light go by, and a moment later back in my apartment, in the same chair as before I left.

“If groups that consider themselves oppressed are held to a more lenient standard of judgment, then every side in a conflict will say they are the oppressed one,” Shalzed said.

I looked around but didn’t see him. Then I realized we were still connected on the phone.

“You’re right,” I told him. “Agnes Callamard should stick to the principles on her organization’s website.”

I noticed that the Seahawks now had the ball right at midfield, but the score was the same. I wondered what happened. Maybe a turnover? It’s hard to believe they would have missed such a short field goal.

“If humans who call themselves human rights defenders end up just using human rights to promote whatever side in a conflict they think is right, human rights are really just another weapon for law and politics,” Shalzed said.

His voice was sad, and I wanted to console him. “That’s not what human rights should be,” I said. “They are supposed to apply equally to all sides.” Sam Darnold threw a ball that was tipped at the line and intercepted- one of the Rams players ran it back all the way to the twenty yard line.

“What is that noise? Do herds of humans all yell and scream together at once to make music?” he asked.

I laughed. “No, I’m watching a football game.”

“I dislike the sound,” he told me.

“And I still have quizzes to grade,” I said.

Shalzed hung up, and on the next play Kyren Williams ran through the left side of the line all the way for a touchdown. But just as the Rams started to celebrate, they realized the play was coming back for holding. The crowd was livid, and the announcers kept showing replays, unable to spot any infraction.

“Maybe the referee who threw that flag is a Seahawks fan, and he figures they need some extra help playing in front of this rowdy crowd on the road,” one of the announcers quipped.

Sounds exactly like a certain human rights person I just spoke with, I thought to myself. Applying rules differently depending on which side you’ve decided to be on.

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Question:

Should human rights organizations be strictly impartial—investigating and publishing findings without regard to political context—or is it legitimate for them to weigh power disparities, advocacy impact, and timing when deciding how and when to release reports?

 

Sources:

Background on Amnesty’s conduct leading up to the release of the report from The Free Press.

Page on Amnesty’s website containing a link to the Hamas report.

shalzed and simon in the knesset

Death Penalty Only for Palestinians? Shalzed Confronts Ben-Gvir Outside the Knesset

by with No Comment shalzedstory

Death Penalty Only for Palestinians?

Shalzed Confronts Ben-Gvir Outside the Knesset

This week Shalzed and Simon head to Jeruslaem. Shalzed wants to understand why Israel is considering a law which punishes those who attack Israelis differently than those who attack Palestinians- a seemingly clear violation of the principle of equality before the law which is fundamental to human rights.

Death Penalty Only for Palestinians? Shalzed Confronts Ben-Gvir Outside the Knesset

First period I teach seventh grade Chumash, then I have a period free. Unfortunately, an older woman named Rosalie Steinburger who has been teaching second grade for over 40 years, is off that period too while her class has either music or gym. Every time she sees me she asks when I’m going to get married and whether I’d be interested in meeting her niece. But this time, to my surprise, it wasn’t Rosalie but rather Shalzed waiting for me in the teacher’s lounge.

“I don’t understand,” he said as soon as I came through the door.

Crazy as it seems, talking to a blue-skinned alien with pointy ears was becoming normal for me, but I wondered how Rosalie, or any of the other teachers, would react if they walked in. “Don’t understand what?” I asked him. “And how did you get into the school?”

“In Israel, a law imposing the death penalty only on terrorists who kill Israeli citizens just passed a Knesset committee, while specifically exempting those who kill Palestinians or others. It impinges on due process and takes away the right to seek clemency. This law is obviously discriminatory and violates human rights.”

“It’s because Israel is tired of terrorists being exchanged for hostages,” I told him.

I heard what sounded like Rosalie’s gentle footsteps in the hall. “You know this is the teacher’s lounge, don’t you? Anyone can come in?”

Shalzed shrugged. I guess he wasn’t worried about having to answer questions. I wondered if maybe I was becoming a little bit possessive towards him. Was I concerned Shalzed might develop other friends on Earth besides just me? “How can Israel even consider such a law?” he asked, ignoring me. “Who would propose such a thing?”

“It’s Itamar Ben-Gvir.” I told him. “He’s from the far right.”

Just as Rosalie started to open the door, I felt myself floating in the dark corridor with little points of light that I was starting to get used to. A moment later Shalzed and I were outside the Knesset, where Ben Gvir was walking towards a waiting black SUV.

“Slicha,” Shalzed called. I wondered if that was the only word he knew or if he could actually speak Hebrew. Or maybe he had a way of learning any Earth language? “Don’t you know that Article 7 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights says that everyone is entitled to equal protection under the law? So how can you propose a bill that creates one punishment for Palestinian terrorists but a different one for everyone else?”

Ben Gvir stopped and put his hands on his hips. “Palestinians also want to be treated differently than Israelis,” he said. “Didn’t you see them cheering when we released convicted killers in exchange for our hostages as part of the ceasefire? They want Israelis who attack them to be punished severely, while we let their terrorists go.”

I noticed Ben Gvir had a small pin shaped like a noose on his lapel. I’d already seen countless photos of that on Facebook. “Why do you have to wear that?” I asked him. “Don’t you understand the harm you are causing? It makes it look like Israel doesn’t care about international law and is out to kill Palestinians.”

“I don’t care what antisemites think,” he said.

Shalzed crossed his arms. “You can hardly call people who oppose having capital punishment for Palestinians but not for Jews antisemites,” he said.

“If they hold Israel to one standard and the rest of the world to another, then they’re antisemites,” Ben-Gvir replied. “As soon as the ceasefire went into effect, Hamas started rounding people up, and without any due process had then blindfolded and shot them in the head. They called that a security operation. And those same people who said nothing about that are now all up in arms when Israel wants to impose the death penalty to help keep our citizens safe from terrorists?”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right,” I told him.

“There’s a Palestinian so-called human rights organization named Addameer,” Ben-Gvir continued. “They are all outraged by violence against Palestinians in the West Bank, claiming Israel is violating international law by not punishing those responsible more harshly. But at the same time they say Palestinians who have killed Israelis are political prisoners who should be released.”

“Why would a human rights group want convicted terrorists released?” Shalzed asked. I couldn’t help but chuckle at his surprise.

“There’s more,” Ben-Gvir continued. “There’s a 17 year old Palestinian named Mohammad Natsheh that we arrested for throwing Molotov cocktails. They say that because he’s under 18, he’s a child who should be released back home to his parents. But many of the settlers that have carried out arson attacks in the West Bank are also teenagers. Those they want in prison.”

“Itamar,” a woman wearing a businesslike skirt and blouse called as she walked towards us from the Knesset.

“I’ve heard enough from you already,” Ben-Gvir said.

When she got closer I saw from the woman’s ID badge that she was a government legal advisor. “I’m telling you again. Even if the law passes, it won’t take effect. It’s too vague, takes away judges’ discretion, and violates international treaties.”

Ben-Gvir waved his hand. “What’s important is to protect Israeli citizens from terrorists, not to follow treaties the world uses to condemn us while Hamas and all the other countries break them all the time.”

“There are lots of verses in the Torah that say there should be only one law, both for Israel and for foreigners that dwell in our midst,” I told Ben-Gvir.

“Did you tell that verse about one law to the hundreds of celebrities demanding that we free Barghouti? And the ones organizing the free Barghouti campaign?” Ben-Gvir asked.

“What does it have to do with Barghouti?” Shalzed responded.

“On the freemarwan.org website they claim Barghouti has been imprisoned unjustly because he was convicted by an Israeli court he does not recognize. You see, they don’t want equality. They want Palestinian terrorists to go free, while at the same time complaining we don’t punish Israeli citizens who attack Palestinians harshly enough.”

“Why is he in prison?” Shalzed asked.

“Because he helped orchestrate the murder of a group of innocent Israelis while they were just sitting eating at a restaurant,” Ben Gvir replied. “Imagine the world-wide calls for justice should an IDF soldier or Israeli citizen do that.”

“Do you want me to help you fine tune the language?” the legal advisor offered.

Ben-Gvir looked hesitant. “How?” he asked.

“Here is one example. The draft you submitted applies the death penalty only when the victim is an Israeli citizen,” she said. “That means it won’t apply to attacks on permanent residents or tourists.”

Ben-Gvir smiled. “That’s a good point. Let’s go.” He motioned to his driver to wait. “We can talk in my office.”

“This law is going to be used against Israel abroad,” I said. “It will make Israel be seen as racist.”

Ben-Gvir scoffed. “There will always be people who hate us,” he said. “Jews have been persecuted for thousands of years. What matters is that Israel defends its citizens.” He and the woman started walking back towards the Knesset building, as Ben-Gvir asked what alternate phrasings she recommends.

Shalzed looked at me. “I thought on Earth countries would compete to uphold human rights,” he said. “Not violate each other’s rights, then use each violation by the other as a justification to violate rights even more.”

All of a sudden I thought about third period. How long had we been gone? I had no idea how much time elapsed while we traveled. “I’m supposed to be teaching. . . “ I began.

Once more I was in the blackness, and then after what seemed like less than a minute I was back in the teacher’s lounge, in exactly the same spot as before I left. Rosalie Steinburger was pouring herself a cup of coffee by the sink.

“Is that Simon?” Rosalie Steinburger asked, speaking with her back to me. I looked around, but Shalzed wasn’t here.

“Yup, it’s me,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. I tried to think of an explanation if she asked me how I had just appeared.

She turned around, coffee cup in hand, and smiled. “This coming Friday night my niece Sarah will be at my house for Shabbat dinner,” she said. “Sarah is a lovely young woman, she’s about to be licensed as a speech therapist and is ready for her life to get going. Would you like to come over too?”

I swallowed, trying to think of an excuse. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” I told her. “I have a friend visiting from very, very far away. I promised him I’d be free.”

Rosalie Steinburger looked disappointed. “Maybe another time then,” she said as the school bell rang.

“Sure,” I told her. “I’m sorry, but something came up during second period and I wasn’t able to get much done. I have to run and make some copies before my next class,” I said as I slipped out the door.

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shalzed pardons

Pardon My Asking… How Can Presidents Pardon Crimes?

by with No Comment story

Pardon My Asking… How Can Presidents Pardon Crimes?

Shalzed Confronts Israeli President Isaac Herzog on Pardons and Justice

With Donald Trump pardoning allies left and right, and Israel’s President now asked to pardon the Prime Minister, Shalzed wants to know why pardons are allowed at all. Doesn’t one person having the power to erase crimes undermine justice for everyone?

Pardon My Asking… How Can Presidents Pardon Crimes?

As I walked out the door I noticed Shalzed across the street from the school where I teach, waiting at the stop where I usually catch my bus. “Surprised to see you,” I said when I walked over.

“What’s a pardon?” he asked.

A woman, leaning on the side of the bus stop shelter as she waited, looked at him funny for a moment, then frowned.

“It’s something the President can do to let someone out of jail. Are you also getting on the bus?” I asked, gesturing towards one of the long, articulated city buses waiting at a traffic light and about to pull up as soon as it changed to green.

“Donald Trump pardoned the Jan. 6th defendants, along with many of his allies and supporters. He just pardoned the President of Honduras, who was convicted of drug trafficking, even as the U.S. Navy bombs suspected drug boats. Israel’s Prime Minister just requested a pardon in order to get his corruption trial cancelled. I don’t understand. Doesn’t one person having the power to erase crimes completely undermine justice?”

“Did you just hatch from an egg or something?” the woman asked Shalzed as she shuffled towards the curb.

“It’s just the way the system works,” I told Shalzed, having never thought about it too closely. I considered saying something to the woman, but she had already stepped away and was busy fishing for coins in her purse. The bus was midway through the intersection and almost at the stop. “Are you getting on with me?” I asked Shalzed. I couldn’t imagine him taking a bus when he had his mysterious ways of transportation.

And sure enough, suddenly I felt myself floating in the dark, with points of light all around. By now this had become just a little familiar. A moment later we were in Israel, just inside the gate of Beit Hanassi, the official residence of Israel’s president, Isaac Herzog. Herzog was walking down the steps towards a waiting black car. I wondered what the woman and the bus driver saw. Did we just disappear? I decided to ask Shalzed- even though he wouldn’t tell me how he transported us, maybe he would be willing to reveal what it looks like to outsiders. But he was already striding towards Herzog.

“Can you explain to me how it’s possible for you to give someone a pardon?” Shalzed asked.

Herzog gave Shalzed a funny look. “Pardons are part of my official duties,” he said.

“So if someone is guilty of a crime, you just let them go free? How is that justice?”

A man in a dark suit, carrying a walkie-talkie and wearing a plastic earpiece in his left ear, walked over. I thought Herzog would tell him to take us away, but instead he motioned for the security guard to stop. “There are lots of reasons why pardons are necessary,” Herzog said. His face seemed thoughtful, like he was genuinely intrigued. “Pardons can actually enable justice.”

“How can that be?” Shalzed demanded, putting his hands on his hips.

To my surprise, Herzog didn’t seem phased. “The classic example is when law says something is a crime, but morality says it’s not. Like Roswell Gilbert, who was sentenced to 25 years in prison because he killed his elderly wife, who was in terrible pain and had Alzeimer’s. Even though according to the law it was first degree murder, letting him go made sense.”

“But that’s nothing like what’s going on today in Israel and the U.S.,” Shalzed said.

The security guard looked at us. “How did you two get in here?” he asked. His English seemed okay, but he rolled the final ‘r’ like a true Israeli.

“Sometimes pardons are for the simple reason that prisons are overcrowded,” Herzog continued. “If there isn’t room to hold people, causing a violation of prisoners’ rights, then the humane thing to do is release some who are non-violent or close to the end of their sentence.”

The guy sitting in the driver’s seat started the black car, and the security guard near us looked at Herzog and pointed towards the gate. “Ozvim,” I said to the guard, meaning we were leaving. I hoped he would be reassured if he saw I spoke a little Hebrew.

“But letting people out of prison because there isn’t enough space is still a failure of justice,” Shalzed said.

“True,” Herzog replied. “But it can be the lesser of two evils. Another reason for pardons is they may be the only way to restore peace. Like when U.S. President Andrew Johnson pardoned all the Confederates who were guilty of treason after the Civil War. Or when Ford pardoned Nixon for Watergate.”

“And Israel just pardoned many convicted terrorists in order to secure the release of hostages,” I added, thinking that might be too delicate a matter for Herzog to bring up.

“Why should terrorists be exchanged for innocent hostages?” Shalzed asked, raising his palms.

Herzog shook his head, and I looked down. “I’m sorry, I’m on the way to New York,” Herzog told us. “I’m getting an honorary degree from Yeshiva University tomorrow.” He took another step towards the car as the security guard smiled.

“Isn’t one person having all this power prone to being abused?” Shalzed asked. “Why should Trump be allowed to grant pardons to his allies and donors?”

“He claims their prosecution was politically motivated,” Herzog said

“So that’s what Bibi says too,” I added.

Herzog gave me a look like I had said the very words which must not be uttered. The guard took a step towards me.

“But if prosecution was politically motivated, shouldn’t there be another trial, or impartial panel, to make that decision? How can it be up to the President? Pardons are obviously politically motivated too.”

“There is a process,” Herzog said. “For example, in Bibi’s case right now everything is being reviewed by Israel’s department of justice.”

“Holchim,” the guard said, putting an arm on Herzog’s shoulder, tugging him gently towards the car.

“So are you going to pardon Bibi?” I asked. I figured he probably wouldn’t answer, but it was worth a shot.

“As I make my decision, I will consider only the good of the country,” he said. “If you have an opinion you can send it via my official website.”

Herzog got into the car and it pulled out into the street. The guard held the gate open, staring at us.

“Todah,” I told him, nudging Shalzed to follow me out. As soon as the gate had closed behind us and locked securely, he got into the car. It sped away with its lights flashing. An Egged bus stopped next to where we were standing and some American tourists, speaking English and holding maps of Jerusalem, got out.

“How does Herzog expect people to believe his decision whether or not to pardon Bibi is solely for the good of the country?” Shalzed asked me. “There could be some political tradeoff, or other deal.”

I shrugged. “At least in the United States, there are suggestions for reform. One Congressman proposed a constitutional amendment to prohibit the President from pardoning himself, his family, campaign members, or administration officials. A senator introduced a bill to require the president to make public all documents related to pardons so there can at least be oversight.”

“Selicha,” a woman who had just gotten off the bus said to me. “Do you speak English?” I nodded. “We are looking for Beit Hanassi.”

“Right here,” I said, gesturing towards the stone compound behind us. “But you missed Isaac Herzog- he just left for New York.”

“Do you know if there is any way for us to take a tour?” the woman asked me.

“Ask him,” I said, pointing to Shalzed. “He knows how to get past the gate.”

The woman looked at Shalzed for a moment, considering. “Did you just take the tour?” she asked.

I was curious what Shalzed would say, but suddenly I was back in the black passage again. I looked at the lights trying to figure out whether or not I was moving, then a moment later Shalzed and I were outside the apartment building where I lived.

“But how. . .” I began.

“Sorry, I can’t explain,” Shalzed said.

“But that woman. And the bus driver. What did they see? What do they think happened?” I asked.

Shalzed shrugged. “Don’t worry, they’ll be fine.”

“Why won’t you tell me? For all the help I give you, I think I at least deserve some information.”

“I kindly suggest you stop asking,” Shalzed said firmly.

I swallowed. “Fine. Pardon me.”

He smiled. “Not without some sort of transparent process.”

I laughed and started up the stairs.

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Discussion Questions:

  1. Is the benefit of pardons as a sometimes necessary check on the criminal justice system outweighed by their potential for abuse?
  2. Right now in both Israel and the U.S. pardon power is exclusively in the hands of the President. Should that be changed to require public input, committee deliberation and so forth? Or would that make the process too slow and cumbersome, such as when Israel needed to free prisoners to secure the release of hostages?
  3. How should Israeli President Isaac Herzog go about determining if Bibi’s pardon request is ‘in the interests of the nation’. What, exactly, does that even mean?

Sources:

For an overview of legal issues concerning pardons in the U.S. from the Bar Association click here.

For an international overview of how pardons work in various countries around the world from the International Law Blog click here.

simon and shalzed at cop30

COP30 Leaves Shalzed Wondering Why He Chose Earth

by with No Comment shalzedstory

COP30 Leaves Shalzed Wondering Why He Chose Earth

Shalzed came to Earth hoping to learn about human rights and take that knowledge back to his planet. However, a visit to the last day of the United Nations COP30 climate conference leaves him unimpressed.

COP30 Leaves Shalzed Wondering Why He Chose Earth

Shalzed told me that pollution had a devastating effect on his planet. “Everyone produced toxic waste and released it into the air, the water, wherever they wanted,” he said. “Eventually, we had to live in sealed domes.”

So he was excited to hear about the COP30 event in Belen, Brazil, where nearly 60,000 representatives of governments and organizations from all around the world were gathering to discuss climate change. He absolutely wanted to go, so he did his thing where for a short moment I felt like I was floating in nearly complete darkness, with only little pins of light like stars visible, and then all of a sudden we were standing together outside an enormous, air conditioned tent at the edge of the conference Blue Zone. That was the area with strictest security, where only government representatives had access, and the official negotiations were held.

Delegates were streaming out, looking frustrated and tired. I noticed some of the exhibits on new clean energy technology in the area open to the public being torn down.

“What’s going on?” Shalzed asked.

“I think the conference is ending,” I said.

“Wow!” he exclaimed. “That’s incredible. Humans have managed to solve Earth’s climate crisis so quickly!”

I chuckled, but he didn’t notice because he was already trying to get the attention of delegates. “Sir,” Shalzed said to a man hurrying out. “Please tell me what the conference decided.”

The man barely glanced in Shalzed’s direction. “Here,” he said, handing Shalzed some papers. “This is the final declaration. . . You can have it, I was going to throw my copy in the trash.”

Shalzed gave the man a puzzled look. I watched him hurry away, taking off his tie and stuffing it into a pocket, as Shalzed read the document intently.

“It doesn’t even mention fossil fuels, and burning fossil fuels is the main cause of the changing climate,” he said when he finished reading. I shrugged. “And this declaration only says that something should be done. It doesn’t say what, or specify who is going to do it.”

“Well, that’s what happens,” I mumbled.

Shalzed looked incensed. “Excuse me,” he said to another delegate passing by, almost grabbing the man’s arm. The man’s badge identified him as Gustavo Petro, President of Columbia. “I don’t understand. The purpose of this conference was to find a way to stop climate change, so why did you pass a final declaration that doesn’t even mention fossil fuels?”

Petro gave Shalzed a weary look. “Are you with the press or something?” he asked.

“No. . .” Shalzed began.

“He’s just concerned,” I interjected.

“It doesn’t matter,” Petro said. “I’ll say the same thing I’m about to tell the media. This conference was an absolute embarrassment. We need a strong commitment to transition to alternative energy and move away from fossil fuel, and I’m outraged that didn’t happen. The minor agreements we reached about deforestation and adaptation aren’t nearly enough. The countries standing in the way should be ashamed.”

Shalzed wrinkled his forehead. “Countries standing in the way?” he asked. “But why would any country do that?”

A security guard moved between Petro and Shalzed. “If you’ll excuse the President,” he said very firmly, but at least somewhat polite. “Press conference,” he said to Petro, guiding him away.

Shalzed turned to me. “Some countries are afraid transitioning away from fossil fuels will harm their economies,” I told him.

“Do they think their economies are more important than the health of the planet?” he asked.

Once more I shrugged. Shalzed turned back to the parade of delegates walking by. Most ignored him. Then a man with his suit and tie still in place turned when Shalzed tapped him on the shoulder. His badge identified him as Vladimir Uskov, chief negotiator from Russia.

“Can you tell me why any country would want to prevent transitioning away from fossil fuels?” Shalzed asked.

“Were you playing games over at the windfarm exhibits during my speech?” Uskov asked.

“We just got here,” I told him, before Shalzed could reply.

“It’s very simple,” Uskov snapped. “Russia is a sovereign country, just like everyone else. We want to set our own policy on energy without having it dictated by international organisations or the UN. Fossil fuels are the backbone of our economy, and if we abandon them abruptly millions of our people will suffer. That’s not a just transition. We need to use all pathways going forward, and fossil fuels must remain a part of the mix.”

“But if all countries don’t cooperate in reducing emissions, climate change can reach a tipping point where the effects will be impossible to reverse,” Shalzed said.

“Alarmist nonsense,” the Russian replied, waving his hand. “Climate projections are extremely uncertain, and it’s very likely technology will be invented in the future to manage the threat.” A woman on her way out called to him in Russian, and he hurried to join her.

Shalzed crossed his arms against his chest. “I don’t get it. I assume most countries understand the urgency of the climate crisis, even if Russia doesn’t. Why didn’t they just hold a vote on whether or not to take strong action, and Russia would lose?”

I smiled. “That’s not how these conferences work,” I told him. “Everything has to be agreed to by consensus.”

“Consensus? You mean you only take action when all of the nearly 200 countries agree? Any one of them can stand in the way?”

“Pretty much,” I said. “Russia has a few allies, countries whose economies are based on coal or oil. Together they are able to block almost anything.”

“But why?” Shalzed asked.

“That’s just the way it works. Like the Russian delegate said, each country is sovereign. There is no mechanism to force any country to do anything it doesn’t want to.”

Shalzed considered. “What about your country?” he asked. “The United States is one of the largest economies. Let me find  one of their delegates. If the United States takes action, even on its own, that would make a big difference.”

Shalzed began scanning the ID badges the exiting delegates were wearing around their necks.

“I don’t think you’ll find anyone representing the U.S.,” I told him.

“Why not?”

“The United States refused to come.”

Shalzed turned in surprise. “The U.S. didn’t come? But why not? Climate change affects the entire planet. And you said this conference is. . .”

“The President of the United States believes climate change is a hoax,” I interrupted. “He is actually trying to increase production of fossil fuels. He says all the science indicating that emissions from burning fossil fuels are changing the climate is wrong, and this is all just a big scam that will hurt the economy.”

Shalzed looked around, looking a bit flustered and bewildered. Then I saw back in the darkness, floating with lights around me, and a moment later we were standing outside my apartment.

“But what about human rights?” he asked while I was still trying to get my bearings. “Climate change can cause people to lose their housing and their access to food. It will affect health and destroy livelihoods.”

“Yes,” I told him. “But that doesn’t mean any particular country is obligated to act.”

“I’m starting to wonder whether Earth was even worth coming to,” he said, his voice gloomy.

“At least you found out about soft serve ice cream,” I told him. He had been utterly amazed at how it was able to be swirled and maintain that shape in the cone.

“I have to think,” he said to me.

“And I have homework from my 7th and 8th grade mishnah classes that I have to grade.” Shalzed started walking away with his head down. He kicked a small rock from the sidewalk out into the street. “There are good things on Earth too,” I called after him.

He turned around to look at me. “I hope so,” he said. “I really hope I didn’t come all this way for nothing.”

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Sources:

News coverage of Cop30 from Reuters

From the BBC

From Climate Change News

 

Question: International law respects the sovereignty of all states, so there is limited ability to force countries to take action and also limited ability to hold states accountable for fulfilling whatever climate commitments they may make. Is international law up to the challenge of addressing climate change, which requires all countries to take strong action and work together? Is there any alternative?

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shalzed and simon at South African airport

Gaza Refugees on the Runway: Free Choice or Forced Out?

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Gaza Refugees on the Runway: Free Choice or Forced Out?

Shalzed and Simon at the Johannesburg airport
shalzed and simon at South African airport

Why Did South Africa Hesitate?

Shalzed and Simon go to South Africa, where on Nov. 17th the government would not allow a plane filled with Gaza refugees to unload. South Africa says accepting refugees allows Israel to take over Palestinian lands. But don’t Gaza residents have the right to leave and attempt to rebuild their lives somewhere more secure? Shalzed investigates. For more background on Shalzed and Simon click here.

I was at home grading Mishnah tests when Shalzed contacted me. He said he saw on the news that a plane filled with Gaza refugees had landed in South Africa. Even though South Africa has been extremely critical of Israel and supportive of Palestine, its government wasn’t allowing them to enter. “What’s the problem?” he asked. “It says in your Universal Declaration of Human Rights that everyone can leave and return to their country whenever they wish.”

I decided to give a kid half credit for writing ‘The Torah’ as her answer to ‘What is the reason we fast on Yom Kippur?’ before replying. “It’s complicated,” I told Shalzed. “But I agree with you. South Africa should let them settle there if they want.”

“I need you to help me understand what’s happening,” he said. Then, before I could say anything else, there was light all around me and I felt like I was floating. Then I was standing next to Shalzed on an airport tarmac in Johannesburg, where an old yellow school bus was driving towards the stairs leading down from a plane.

“How did you. . .” I began.

Shalzed shook his head.

“But it’s not possible to get somewhere this quickly!”

He smiled like I was a little kid asking to be let in on some adult secret. “Eventually, humans will invent better means of transportation,” he said. Then he pointed at two people standing at the foot of the airplane stairs. “I recognize the man on the left- Ronald Lamola, South Africa’s foreign minister. Who’s the other one?” he asked.

Lamola was wearing a fancy suit and tie, while the guy next to him was dressed in jeans and a wrinkled shirt that looked like it had just been picked up from a second-hand store. “Not sure,” I said, still trying to think of a way to get Shalzed to tell me how he got us here.

The bus brakes squealed as it came to a stop, and the driver turned off the engine and opened the door. Lamola gestured up towards the aircraft, and a man in military uniform stepped aside from the exit. A man, holding the hands of two young children, started down the stairs. He looked relieved but also very tired.

“We wouldn’t need airplanes if you’d just tell us how you transport,” I said to Shalzed.

He ignored me and headed towards the stairs, so I followed. “Welcome,” the fellow in jeans said as the man got off the airplane. He was wearing a large ID saying he was with the charity ‘Gift of the Givers’. “The bus will take you to the place we’ve arranged for you to stay for the next week.”

The man from the airplane smiled. I had a feeling he didn’t speak much English. He went right to the bus.

“Why just a week?” Shalzed asked. “Aren’t they resettling?”

Both Lamola and the charity guy gave us funny looks, probably trying to figure out who we were. Lamola answered. “They should be returned to Gaza. South Africa will not help facilitate ethnic cleansing of Palestinian lands.”

The guy in jeans sighed. “He’s only letting them off the plane because Gift of the Givers agreed to take full responsibility for their care.”

“How can you say ethnic cleansing? These people are freely choosing to relocate. . .” Shalzed began.

The second man off the plane had just reached us. “I paid $2000 for this ticket,” he said with a thick Arabic accent. He raised his right hand and rubbed his fingers together, looking directly at Lamola. “Please, sir, please do not make me go back to Gaza. I have nothing left there, none of us do. Please, please let us stay.”

Lamola made a half-smile and nodded the way diplomats do when they want to appear to agree while remaining noncommittal. The man grabbed the hand of a boy who had come down the stairs behind him and went to the bus.

“After everything you know about living conditions in Gaza, how could you even consider not accepting them here?” the charity guy asked.

Lamola crossed his arms. “If countries agree to accept Gaza refugees, Israel will get away with stealing their land.”

“Did you forget already about Oct. 7th?” I chimed in. “The purpose of this war was for Israel to defend itself from Hamas, not to drive people away.”

A woman carrying an infant was next off the plane. The man from the charity welcomed her, but she rushed right past him, like she was afraid the bus might leave without her.

“They didn’t freely choose to leave,” Lamola said to Shalzed. “They are only coming because of Israel’s bombardment.”

“And Hamas oppresses them,” I added.

Shalzed wrinkled his forehead. “Sometimes humans are hard to comprehend,” he mumbled to me. Then he turned back to Lamola. “That is exactly what I just said. They have freely chosen to leave Gaza, because of the difficult conditions there caused by the war and perhaps to escape Hamas also.

“The problem is that while South Africa loves to issue statements supporting Palestine, it doesn’t want to have to pay to take in refugees,” the charity guy said.

“And why should South Africa foot the bill?” Lamola asked.

The guy from Gift of the Givers interrupted. “What does it matter who is at fault in a conflict thousands of miles away? These people are here now, and they are entitled to food, clothing, and shelter. That’s all that matters”

Next off the airplane were a man and a woman, with a little girl between them, her hand inside the back pocket of her father’s pants. The woman looked at all four of us. “Water?” She asked, also in a thick accent. She made a drinking gesture with her arm.

“There are water bottles on the bus,” the charity guy said, motioning her along. Then he turned to Shalzed and me. “They were stuck on the plane for ten hours while the government decided whether or not to let them off. I’m sure they need water and food.”

“We gave them some supplies to have on the airplane,” Lamola interjected. Then he put his hands on his hips. “And who are you two?”

Shalzed smiled. “I’m just trying to understand more about human rights,” he said.

“Well how did you get in here?” Lamola asked. “And I think maybe you’d better get going.” He glanced towards a police car waiting off to the side.

I started to worry. Could we be arrested? But just then I saw the same lights that were by now becoming familiar. I felt for a moment like I was in some sort of tunnel, or on a path, and then I was standing next to Shalzed right in front of my apartment building.

“But. . .” I began.

“Just tell me one thing,” Shalzed said, ignoring me. He scratched his chin, like he was thinking. “It seems like Palestinians as a people have the right to remain in Gaza, but any given Gaza resident should be able to leave if they so choose.”

“Right,” I said, wondering whether we had traveled in some kind of machine, or maybe he had a way of beaming, like in Star Trek?

“So what if most or all Gaza residents want to leave? Should they be able to do that, because seeking refuge elsewhere is their right? Or if everyone wants to leave, even if it’s voluntary, does that become some form of ethnic cleansing?”

I chuckled. “I don’t think anyone has to worry. Look how hard it was to get South Africa to accept even one airplane,” I told him. I checked the time. However we got to South Africa, it must have taken a while because it was already after midnight. “I have grading to finish for tomorrow,” I said.

Shalzed put his hands on his hips, and I sensed he was reluctant to let me go. “But this doesn’t make sense,” he said.

“The opposite of a correct statement is a false one. But the opposite of truth is usually just another truth,” I said. “It’s a quote from a physicist named Niels Bohr. It’s one of the only sayings I use at school that’s not from the Talmud.”

“I need you to help me understand,” Shalzed said.

I started up the stairs to my building. “Sure,” I told him. “And I wish you would help me understand how you transport us from one end of the world to the other, too.”

 

Sources:

AP coverage of the plane of Gazans landing in South Africa

Reuters coverage

BBC coverage

 

Questions:

  1. According to human rights law, Palestinians should have the right to leave Gaza if they freely choose and can find another country to accept them. They also have the right to remain in Gaza if they wish, and they cannot be forced to leave their land or homes. But how can we determine whether a decision to leave is free of compulsion in a situation with so much economic and military hardship, and also so politically charged?
  2. Is it inconsistent to condemn U.S. deportations—arguing that people shouldn’t be sent back to dangerous places—while also opposing efforts to let Gazans leave and rebuild their lives elsewhere?
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shalzed and simon at unhrc

A No Show in Geneva: Shalzed’s Wake-Up Call About Human Rights

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A No Show in Geneva: Shalzed’s Wake-Up Call About Human Rights

Simon and Shalzed at the UN Human Rights Council in Geneva
shalzed and simon at unhrc

This week Simon and Shalzed go to Geneva to watch the United Nations Human Rights Council critique states’ records on human rights. Shalzed is impressed, until a certain nation fails to show up. . .

Shalzed was particularly excited about the United Nations, and when he heard that it had a special human rights council he wanted to go there right away. “It’s in Geneva,” I told him, afraid he might be disappointed.

“Let’s go now,” he replied, oblivious not only to the distance but also that it was a school day and I had classes to teach.

“Maybe over winter break?” I suggested.

Shalzed put his hands on his hips, and I instinctively stepped backwards. “My mission is urgent, and you said you would help.”

I shrugged. “Okay, but Geneva is in Switzerland, and I teach both 7th and 8th grades today Mishnah and Hebrew. The school. . .”

“You’ll be back in plenty of time,” he said sharply.

What happened next is somewhat a blur. I sensed being inside some sort of enclosed area, maybe a tube, or maybe I was just surrounded by some sort of force field or something like that. Then we were seated together in the gallery of an ornate conference room. It didn’t take me long to figure out from the signs and delegates that we were somehow at the UN Human Rights Council.

“How did you. . .” I began.

Shalzed shook his head. “It’s best we don’t talk too much about technology.”

“But it’s not possible. . .”

He pointed to the head table, where a representative of Honduras was answering a question. “Just tell me what’s going on?” he said.

But I wanted to understand what had happened. “How can we. . .” I began.

He shook his head again. “Someday humans will invent better means of travel. You are already somewhat advanced. After all, you have ice cream.” The first time Shalzed saw soft serve ice cream he had no idea what it was. He couldn’t understand how it could both be formed into swirls and yet still stay upright on the cone. He quizzed me endlessly about it and was disappointed when I couldn’t explain.

I pulled out my phone to check the time. Less than ten minutes ago I had been back home. “How did you. . .”

He smiled and pointed to the dais, where the woman from Honduras was still speaking. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

I resigned myself to waiting for another chance to ask about transport. “This looks like what’s called Universal Periodic Review,” I whispered. “Every four to five years, each country has its human rights record scrutinized by the council.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, for all the countries to hold one another accountable for upholding human rights.” He watched the proceedings intently.

I still felt shocked from being transported as the woman listed steps her government was taking to protect journalists.

“Why do journalists need protection?” Shalzed asked. “If there is a fire, or a tornado, don’t they stand far away?”

I laughed. “I think what’s dangerous is when they report on crime, drug trafficking, and corruption. People use violence and intimidation to try to keep journalists from exposing what they don’t want others to known.”

Shalzed considered. A few moments later the session finished and the Honduran delegation got up. The ‘Honduras’ placard was replaced by one that read ‘United States.’

“It’s very impressive that a large, powerful country like the United States allows all of the others to critique it,” Shalzed said. “It shows how each and every country on Earth has a deep commitment to fulfilling human rights.”

A woman in the row in front of us turned and gave Shalzed a funny look. “I guess I stand out a little because of my ears,” he whispered to me, oblivious to his naivety.  “But with a human rights council like this, I really don’t understand why Earth has any problems.”

A throng of photographers came and started taking pictures of the United States placard and the empty chairs at the table behind it.

The High Commissioner for Human Rights, Volker Turk, spoke from the podium. “I propose the council express its regret at the refusal of the United States to participate in this process,” he began.

Shalzed stiffened. “But you said every country participates,” he said.

I shrugged. “All the countries are supposed to, but no one can force them. The UN Human Rights Council doesn’t have the power to make anyone to do anything.”

“Why not?” Shalzed asked, his voice suddenly louder. I worried for a moment that he might have attracted security’s attention.

The woman in front of us turned again. “And what planet did you come from?” she asked.

Shalzed was about to answer, but I stopped him. “That’s an expression,” I said. Then I turned to woman. “We came because we’re interested in finding out more about how human rights work in practice,” I told her.

“Well, it looks like you’ve got a lot to learn,” she said as she shook her head and turned back around.

“The United States believes the Human Rights Council is biased,” I whispered quietly to Shalzed. “It has passed more resolutions condemning Israel than all other countries in the world combined. It has a special agenda item against only Israel at every session. And many of the countries elected to serve on the council are the ones with the worst records on human rights.”

Shalzed’s mouth dropped open. “But you said every country has its record critiqued by all the others, so countries can help one another improve?”

“That’s what’s supposed to happen. But in practice, countries use the human rights council to launch political attacks on each other, and join the council just in order to shield themselves from scrutiny.”

“But isn’t there someone in charge who can prevent that from happening?”

I smiled. “Like who?” I asked.

“Like him.” Shalzed gesturing towards Volker Turk.

Turk continued his address from the podium. “I propose we postpone the review of the United States, and call upon it to resume its participation,” he said.

“That’s all he’s going to do?” Shalzed asked. “Why doesn’t he send police to force the United States to come?” I couldn’t help but chuckle as Shalzed continued. “And why doesn’t he stop the council from passing resolutions that are biased, or from ignoring human rights violations committed by powerful countries, or from letting politics drive its focus?”

The woman in the row in front of us turned again. “Volker Turk is only human, you know.” She said.

“The high commissioner is selected by the countries. He works for them. He can’t tell them what to do,” I added.

Shalzed looked down. “So maybe it makes sense for the United States not to participate,” he said. “Maybe it will make them become more impartial.”

The woman shook her head. “This is pretty much the first time ever that a country has refused to attend its review,” she said. “I’m afraid that now others will start refusing too. The whole system for holding countries accountable for their human rights records could easily fall apart.”

The council took a formal vote to express its regret, postpone the U.S. review, and call on the United States to resume its cooperation. Then everyone began to file out. I checked my phone, wondering what time it was back home.

“When is your first class?” Shalzed asked me.

I couldn’t remember whether the anti-bullying assembly was today or next week. “8:51,” I told him, in case we were on regular schedule.

“Fine,” he said. “Come with me.” Shalzed led me out of the building, then when we were on the steps I suddenly had that same sensation of being in a tube with lights or some kind of energy all around. A moment later I was standing in front of the Reuben Goldman Jewish Day School, right where kids get dropped off from carpool.

“How. . .” I began to ask.

Shalzed put his finger over his lips. “So are you on time?”

A bell rang inside the school. I checked the clock on my phone. I had missed davening, although that wasn’t a big deal. All Jewish studies faculty were encouraged to come and usually I did, but it wasn’t required. If we were on regular schedule, first period would be starting in 3 minutes.

“I have to run,” I told Shalzed.

“You said that Israel has been condemned more than all the other countries combined,” Shalzed said.

“Right,” I answered.

“Why is Israel so much worse than all the other countries?”

“It’s not,” I told him.

“So why would. . .” he began.

“I have to go to class,” I said, starting towards the school building. “We’ll talk about it later.”

As I went inside, I realized that the tests I graded last night were still back in my apartment. The kids would be disappointed. I couldn’t very well tell them that I had just been transported to view the human rights council in Geneva, so I only had about two minutes and thirty seconds to think up an excuse.

 

Sources:

AP News coverage of the U.S. skipping its review

Human Rights Watch comment on the U.S. skipping universal periodic review

The European Journal of International Law for a more thorough and scholarly overview of the background and implications of the U.S. refusing to take part in universal periodic review.

 

 

 

Questions for discussion:

  1. The UN Human Rights Council is made up of countries. Can countries really be expected to police each other regarding human rights without it becoming politicized? Is there any better way?
  2. By refusing to participate in its universal periodic review, did the United States make a valid protest that the human rights council is biased and therefore ineffective? Or by not participating is the U.S. undermining whatever good the human rights council does do, without proposing any better alternative?

 

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