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?

by with No Comment story

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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shalzed with spain's un ambassador two

Was the UN Walkout on Israel a Proper Protest or Dereliction of Diplomatic Duty?

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Was the UN Walkout on Israel a Proper Protest or Dereliction of Diplomatic Duty?

Shalzed catches up with Spain’s ambassador to the UN

When Israel’s Prime Minister spoke recently at the UN, delegates from 70 or so countries walked out. Was this an appropriate protest, or is staying to listen to people we disagree with the better path towards peace and human rights? Shalzed catches up with Spain’s UN ambassador Hector Gomez, a leader of the walkout, to understand his view.

              The Katharine Hepburn garden isn’t much, but it’s nice they bothered to plant anything green in the middle of the midtown Manhattan urban jungle. A sign proudly proclaimed that Dag Hammarskjold Plaza contains 6 fountains and 49 benches. Not quite enough to make you feel like you are out in nature, but you’ve got to give credit for trying.

              I finally spotted Spain’s UN Ambassador. He was walking quickly towards his office on the 36th floor of One Dag Hammarskjöld Plaza, taking the sidewalk instead of detouring through the garden where I was. I guess it’s hard for him to find time to smell the roses. “El Senor Gomez,” I called. He glanced in my direction, then shook his head in surprise when he realized who I was.

              “I thought you’d be working on your wormhole machine, whatever you call it. Glad to see you’ve decided to take a break and enjoy looking at some of Earth’s beautiful flowers,” he replied.

              There’s no way to make any sort of device capable of opening a wormhole with Earth’s primitive technology, but no point in trying to explain that to him. “Let me guess, someone said something you disagree with, and that’s why you’re leaving in the middle of the afternoon,” I said.

              “I disagree with most of what goes on in there,” he said, pointing at UN headquarters at the end of the block. “But I’m heading to a meeting about the new independent panel on artificial intelligence. You know I was instrumental in getting that passed.”

              He co-chaired that committee with the ambassador from Costa Rica. “So it’s only Bibi Netanyahu you walk out on? Anyone else you disagree with it’s not such a big deal?”

              He crossed his arms. “I think genocide is something we all have to stand against, don’t you? Or on your planet is genocide not a problem?”

              “So let me get this straight- Israel is the only country you feel compelled to take a stand about? North Korea, with its vast forced labor camps, restrictions on information so harsh citizens are punished for years just for watching a foreign movie, and where citizens are forbidden to emigrate and border guards are instructed to shoot anyone trying to sneak out doesn’t require taking a stand? Iran, which oppresses women, disappears and tortures dissidents, and has executed over 1000 people in just the last nine months doesn’t require taking a stand? What about Russia, which not only invaded Ukraine but now brazenly attacks civilians in Kiev with drones every night? Officials from all those countries spoke at the UN last week without any sort of walkout.”

              A young man with a backpack covered in Bernie Sanders stickers had paused near us, listening to me. “The UN is one big joke,” he said loudly. “Somebody should kick them all out and use the building to house the homeless.”

              “This guy doesn’t want to lose his job,” I told the young man, gesturing towards Gomez.

              He suddenly looked embarrassed. “Do you. . .” he began.

              “He’s the ambassador from Spain,” I said.

              “Hola. Mucho amigo,” the man said. Hector Gomez laughed and the guy started to walk away.

              “So why only Bibi?” I asked Gomez again, anxious to hear his answer to that.

              He swallowed. “Look, you can’t justify a crime by saying there are also other criminals out there the same or worse. Right now the situation in Gaza is our main focus.”

              “It’s your main focus?” I asked.

              “My government is working with other countries across the European Union to bring an end to genocide and implement a peaceful two-state solution.”

              “Is that so?” I asked again.

              Gomez gave me a quizzical look. “Of course. The European Union is considering many measures to pressure Israel, and I personally have made many statements. . . ”

              I cut him off. “So when Bibi was at the UN, why did you walk out of the room?”

              He frowned. “To show that his government’s conduct. . . ”

              “With Bibi at the UN it would have been a great chance for negotiations,” I interrupted.

              “By walking out I wanted to make a statement. . .” he began.

              “Help me understand. Is the entire purpose of your United Nations to provide a place for people to make statements?” I asked. “Or is it supposed to be about dialogue intended to maintain peace and security?”

              “Dialogue for peace and security,” Gomez dutifully replied.

              “So why didn’t you stay in the room and listen carefully to Bibi? That would have helped you better understand his positions so you can help come up with an agreement to end the war that is acceptable to both sides. How can you do that if you walk out?”

              Gomez clicked his tongue. “Everyone knows already that Bibi is against a Palestinian state.”

              “You just told me a moment ago you are working to bring about a two-state solution. Why are you doing that if it’s hopeless?”

              Bob Rae, the Ambassador from Canada, had noticed our conversation and stopped by. “Nothing is ever hopeless,” he interjected.

              “We have to bring pressure on the Israeli government,” Gomez began.

              “You do good work,” I told Rae.

              “Thanks,” he said with a smile. Then he turned to Gomez. “I just want to let you know I support you on AI. Now I have to run to a meeting.”

              “And I have to get to my meeting as well,” Gomez said to me as Rae started off.

              “Peace will only come when people talk and begin to understand one another,” I said to Gomez. “What kind of example do you think it set when you walked out of the room? Especially with all the hate that’s accompanied the Gaza war. When people see even diplomats disrespecting one another and refusing to listen to each other’s speeches, why should they make an effort to have honest dialogue and try to understand the other side?”

              Gomez sighed. “Sometimes you have to take a stand,” he replied, turning to walk back to the sidewalk, out of the garden.

              “Fine, but if your stand is against listening how will there ever be progress?”

              “Let’s hope there’s a new peace deal soon,” Gomez called over his shoulder as he walked away.

              “I hope so too,” I said, even though he was probably too far away to hear. I thought about heading over to the United Nations, but for what? After the high level event last week, right now over there it’s mostly down time. But I’d already spent enough time in the Katharine Hepburn Garden- it isn’t much of a sight.

              I figured as long as I was in New York I’d go visit the Earth and Space Center at the American Museum of Natural History. I’m curious about the other planets orbiting Earth’s star, and I can find out a little more about the propulsion technology humans have so far invented. I’m not expecting much, but maybe there’s something I can adapt and do something with. I don’t expect to be able to travel all the way home, but I’d love to get out into nearby space at least a little bit.

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Discussion Questions:

  1. Canada’s UN Ambassador, Bob Rae, did not participate in the walkout. He was quoted as explaining:

“My job is to listen to other people. . . In many cases, listen to people I don’t agree with. I’ve listened to, I don’t know, (Russian Foreign Affairs Minister Sergey) Lavrov, I’ve listened to the Russian Ambassador on Ukraine. I don’t agree with a word he says, but I listen to him, and I think that’s part of what diplomacy is all about.”

Do you agree with Rae, or with Gomez who participated in the walkout? Is it ever appropriate for diplomats to walk out on a UN speaker?

 

2. Why did Rae and his 70-odd colleagues target only Israel’s Prime Minister for a walkout? After all, every country commits human rights abuses. What prevents double standards or hypocrisy in these protests?

robege by tourny fountain smaller

Punished for Prayer?

by with No Comment shalzedstory

Punished for Prayer?

Shalzed speaks with Quebec minister Jean-Francois Roberge about new law to forbid praying in public

Quebec recently proposed a law forbidding prayer in public places. Shalzed catches up with that province’s Minister of Secularism Jean-François Roberge to find out how he doesn’t see this as a violation of religious rights.

I waited outside the Hôtel du Parlement du Québec, watching water flow through the Tourny Fountain. I have no idea why the fountain has so many elaborate carvings of fish. On my planet there are very small oceans, so everything to do with marine life is foreign to me.

An English speaking family rode by on the kind of bicycles you rent from automatic docks by the minute. I assumed they were from South of the border. In Montreal it’s common to hear English, but not all the way up here in Quebec.

“Bonjour,” I called as Jean-Francois Roberge approached, striding quickly on his way towards parliament.

He nodded and waved at me without slowing down. Roberge has only been in politics for about ten years, when he gave up life as a teacher to serve the proud people of Chambly in Parliament. But evidently that’s been plenty of time for him to get good at brushing people off and to learn to make himself look busy. “Oh father in heaven, may you appear before us and spread your blessings far and wide like insecticide from a crop duster,” I began.

Now he slowed down. “Shalzed?” he exclaimed.

“Sorry, I’m in the middle of a prayer,” I said. A young Muslim couple, just finished taking a selfie in front of the fountain, gave me a funny look.

Roberge rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’re not praying. There must be no religion where you come from.”

That was true. On my planet we have nothing comparable to what humans call religion, and we have long since disproved the existence of any sort of supernatural power. “Okay, you’re right. But I was exercising my right to pray. Before you pass a law telling all citizens of Quebec what they must and must not believe in.”

Roberge gave me what I’d best describe as a snort, probably how he used to react when a middle school student got sassy. “No one is going to tell Québécois what to believe. And people can still pray, just not in public. I think that’s very fair.”

The Muslim couple took a few steps, but lingered by the fountain. I had the feeling they were listening. Fine with me. “And here I thought freedom of religion was a fundamental right,” I said to Roberge. “Isn’t it even in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, or am I mistaken?”

“Absolutely,” Roberge agreed.

Smart, because I knew I was not mistaken. “So I’d say prayer is pretty fundamental to freedom of religion. And your new law tramples that right.”

“Not in the slightest,” Roberge said. “Here’s an example. People have the right to have children. But you don’t do it in a public park, you do it in your bedroom.”

The Muslim woman who was listening smiled, while the man she was with started laughing. “That’s ridiculous,” I said.

“The point is that people praying is not the sort of thing we want to see in Quebec,” Roberge said. “Whoever wants to pray is welcome, but do it in your church.” He noticed the Muslim couple and added, “Or mosque, synagogue, or whatever you call it. But prayer is not what public places should be used for.”

“And what’s so bad about prayer? Does it hurt someone?” I asked, genuinely clueless as to why he was so adamantly opposed to displays of religion in public.

A man wearing a dirty T-shirt advertising the dates and cities of some long ago concert tour and sneakers held together with masking tape walked straight up to Roberge with his palm extended. Roberge glanced at me and also the Muslim couple, then took out his wallet and handed the man a loonie. I thought the man would come to me next, but instead he walked right past me and went to the Muslim couple.

“Are you going to make a law against asking for money? I assume the site of needy people begging is not something you want in Quebec either,” I asked Roberge.

“Those are completely different things,” Roberge said as he put away his wallet.

“Really?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” Roberge said as he folded his arms across his chest. “There are facilities specially designed for prayer. Churches and the like. So there is absolutely no reason why people should be allowed to take over public places being used by others in order to do it. For beggars, there is nowhere else they can go.”

The Muslim woman gave the man a coin from her purse. Then he headed away, in the opposite direction of Parliament, towards the Plains of Abraham park.

“I’m curious,” I asked Roberge. “Let’s say there is yoga in the park, and it begins with meditation. Will that be forbidden as public prayer? What if there’s a picnic, and someone says grace or a blessing over the food?”

Roberge swallowed. “The law will be enforced sensibly,” he said. “The police will only issue tickets where the prayer is a major or prominent part of a gathering’s purpose.”

“Sounds pretty subjective to me,” I said.

The Muslim woman walked closer, pulling her partner along. Roberge seemed to resign himself to the fact that there was no tactful way he could avoid her. “How do we know you won’t enforce the prayer law only against Muslims?” she asked.

Roberge waved his hand. “The government of Quebec would never do such a thing,” he said. “This law will apply equally to everyone.”

The woman laughed. “That’s very hard to believe, since the fact that you don’t like the prayers at the rallies for Palestine is what got this all started,” she said.

Roberge cleared his throat. “I need to be going,” he said. He pulled out his phone like he was checking a message.

“So you think it’s alright to take away people’s freedoms in public, as long as they can still exercise those same rights at home?” I asked him.

Roberge shook his head. “People absolutely have the right to pray, but only in their home or in their house of worship. Anything beyond that is an attempt to impose religion on others,” he said. “Now I have to head straight to the Salon Rouge.” He put his phone back in his pocket and started to walk away.

“À la prochaine,” I said, feeling certain that with Roberge’s aggressive secularism I’d be back to see him soon.

He waved a hand at me. “Good luck finding a way back home,” he said. “So then you’ll leave us alone.”

I caught the eye of the Muslim woman and we exchanged a smile as Roberge walked away. “Why is your skin blue?” the man she was with asked me.

I shrugged. “I’m just a little different. You see, we’re both minorities.” I don’t like giving humans too many details about my planet so I started towards the park. The couple did not follow.

I wanted to tour Quebec’s old city, so I decided to rent one of those pay per minute bikes to get around and I spotted a kiosk nearby. As I approached, two women wearing long dresses and carrying signs saying that two questions could determine if I was going to heaven or hell asked me whether I owned a copy of the Bible. I told them no, and so they shook their heads and offered me a pamphlet summarizing the teachings of Jesus. I decided to walk to another kiosk rather than be stuck with them watching me while I tried to figure out how to rent a bike.

I wondered if Roberge’s next law would forbid people like this from passing out religious literature in public. That might remove a minor inconvenience, but I hope he doesn’t do it. There’s an awful lot it’s worth putting up with in order to preserve freedom and rights.

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Discussion Questions:

  1. Is a prohibition on public prayer a violation of citizens’ religious rights, even if prayer is still allowed at home and in houses of worship?
  2. If public prayer is forbidden, what stops a government from defining prayer or enforcing the law selectively in a way that discriminates against disfavored religious groups?
shalzed home demonstration

The Right to Be Heard — Even From Outside the Kitchen Window?

by with No Comment shalzedstory

The Right to Be Heard — Even From Outside the Kitchen Window?

Shalzed investigates a new law criminalizing protest outside homes

shalzed home demonstration

On Aug. 15th New Zealand’s Justice Minister Paul Goldsmith introduced a law making it a crime to protest outside a home. Shalzed visits Auckland to find out whether this is respect for people’s right to privacy, or a step towards taking away the freedom to demonstrate and express political opinions.

I felt a little out of place hanging around in front of Paul Goldsmith’s house. A few cars slowed  as they drove by, trying to figure out whether I belonged in their neighborhood or maybe just curious about my pale blue skin. And I have to admit, here on Earth I do stand out. I wondered if any of them might call the police.

I thought of taking a seat in the rocking chair on the porch. It would be more comfortable, and I’d also be less visible from the street. But that would be trespassing- not a good idea for a law-abiding, rights-respecting citizen like me.

A black sedan with tinted windows finally pulled into the driveway. Goldsmith lived in an older house with a detached garage, meaning that after parking his car he would have to come back out. He noticed me as he pushed the garage door button. “Shalzed?” he called. “What are you doing in New Zealand?”

“Since I’m from the other side of the galaxy, a little more travel isn’t a problem,” I told him. Of course I came to Earth in a wormhole, which takes absolutely no time to cross. Primitive airplanes are nowhere near as convenient.

“So what do you want?” Goldsmith slung his briefcase on top of a green plastic recycling bin and put his hands on his hips.

“To protest,” I told him.

He gave me a funny look. “For what, the farmers?”

“No, I just want to be able to protest,” I told him. “Before your new law takes effect.”

Goldsmith waved his hand. “Give me a break. It only forbids protests outside of people’s homes. If people want to make a public statement they can go to the park. They can march down the street. What’s the problem?”

I didn’t come all the way to Auckland just to listen to that sort of B.S.. “Really? And how long will it be now until you make a law against protests in the parks also? Don’t joggers deserve not to be disturbed too?”

“That’s absurd. The only point is that people have a right to privacy in their own homes. How would you like to have dozens of people right outside your door waving signs and chanting slogans each evening?”

“Well the whole point of a protest is to draw attention,” I told him. “Protesting is worthless if you can only do it at a faraway place no one sees.”

A woman wearing a red apron with a picture of a kiwiburger stepped out of the house. Probably Melissa, Paul Goldsmith’s wife. “If you want to talk to my husband you need to make an appointment to see him at his office. Now it’s dinner time,” she scolded me.

“Actually, I’m starting a protest,” I replied.

She groaned. “It’ll just be a minute, sweetheart,” Goldsmith told her. Then he turned back to me. “Protests outside of politicians’ homes aren’t fair to the neighbors. What did they do to deserve it? And what about the family? Why should kids have to see people calling calling their mom or dad names every time they leave for school in the morning? It’s not right, that’s all.”

“Sure, sure,” I told him. “And also Premier House. Probably no protests there either because the Prime Minister might have innocent little children.”

Goldsmith looked unsure. “Doesn’t the law apply there also?” I asked him. “After all, the Prime Minister’s official residence is a house.”

“There’s nothing unusual about this new law,” Melissa chimed in from the doorway. “In the United States they don’t allow protests outside of people’s homes either.”

That wasn’t really true- it depends which state or even which city. But she was right that the U.S. Supreme Court has ruled that restrictions on protests outside of private homes are legal as long as protestors can still march through residential areas and spread material door to door.

“You know that this is only going to be enforced selectively,” I told Goldsmith. “Protest at the home of a government minister, the police will come right away. But if it’s a member of the opposition, or someone the government doesn’t like? Then what?” I asked.

“Speaking of the police,” Melissa said.

I turned and saw a squad car pulling into the driveway. “We got a call about a suspicious individual standing in front of your house,” an officer said to Goldsmith as he got out. He started looking me over.

“Just here to protest the law against protests,” I said, hoping a little silliness would set them at ease.

“He’s harmless,” Goldsmith told them.

Harmless? Hardly the way to talk to about someone who designed a system of super reflective mirrors that focus a full 50% of a star’s energy output onto a single point, causing it to reach 15,000 degrees. It provides enough energy to hold open a wormhole. But why argue?

“We’ll escort him away,” the officer said. Some neighbors, attracted by the police car, came out on their lawns to see what was going on.

“You see how much of a disturbance just you are causing right now on your own?” Goldsmith said to me. “Imagine if there were protests here each evening. Noise, traffic, it’s not fair to everyone who lives in the neighborhood.”

The policeman started stepping towards me, giving me his menacing look. “Hey, I’m a tourist,” I said to him. “I’m just on my way to Sky Tower. Buddy, relax.”

“Well Sky Tower closes at eight, so you’d better get going,” he said, snapping the back of his right hand against his other palm.

I turned to Goldsmith. “You know noise and street blockages aren’t valid reasons to ban protests,” I told him. “There are already separate rules for that. You’re just trying to sweep protestors away where you don’t have to see them.”

“I made roasted lamb for dinner and it’s getting cold,” Mellissa said, pointing her husband towards the door. “You have to come now.”

Goldsmith took his briefcase and went inside without giving me another look. The officer remained facing me with his arms crossed.

“I’ll be on my way,” I told the policeman.

“I don’t see any reason to take you in,” he said. “But give me one, and it’ll be my pleasure to do it.”

“Have a good evening,” I told him, then I started walking towards the main road. A few minutes later the squad car drove by, and the officer gave me a long glance. If he followed me he would find out I had been lying. I wasn’t going to Sky Tower- a chance to look around from atop a pile of concrete a few hundred meters high didn’t exactly excite me. But I did want to check out Auckland’s aquarium- on my planet we have very small oceans, so I find the variety of sea life on Earth fascinating. I’ve never seen anything like an anemone or clown fish before.

I imagine Goldsmith means well with his law against protests. But there’s a saying Earthlings attribute to John F. Kennedy that comes to my mind: Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable. As long as protestors are peaceful and follow rules about not impeding access to private property or causing other undue disturbance, trying to shoo them away seems like a bad move.

 

 

Questions:

  1. Does a prohibition on protests outside homes, while still allowing protestors to march through residential areas or distribute literature door to door, properly balance residents’ right to privacy against the public’s right to protest?
  2. Does a prohibition on protests outside of homes represent the start of a slippery slope towards eroding the public’s right to protest? For example, could this law also be used to forbid protests outside of a governor’s mansion or other official residence? Will it begin a movement towards future laws that prohibit protest in other sorts of places?

 

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Shalzed outside St. James Cathedral in Seattle

Children’s Safety vs. A Priest’s Right to Silence

by with No Comment shalzedstory

Children's Safety vs A priest's Right to Silence

Does freedom of religion include a priest’s right not to report information about child abuse he may learn while hearing a confession?

Shalzed Outside St. James Cathedral in Seattle
Shalzed outside St. James Cathedral in Seattle

Washington State recently passed a law requiring priests to report child abuse—including information given during confession—to the authorities. The Church responded by suing, arguing that the seal of the confessional is absolute and that the law unconstitutionally burdens their religious freedom. On July 18, a U.S. federal judge agreed and blocked the state from punishing priests who refuse to comply with the new law. Today, Shalzed speaks with Seattle Archbishop Paul Etienne to find out why he believes that even in order to protect children, priests should not be forced to violate this sacrament.

I arrived at St James Cathedral in downtown Seattle a little early, so I went inside. The giant marble altar in the center got my attention- a sign says they call the window in the roof that bathes it in sunlight ‘the eye of God.’ I saw someone exiting a confessional and thought of going over, but I decided that would be in good taste. Instead, I went back out to wait on the stairs until the confessions would finally be over.

“Good morning, Archbishop, I’m curious what sins were confessed to you this morning,” I said when Paul Etienne finally came out.

At first he seemed taken aback, then he frowned. “Shalzed?” he asked. “Why are you here?”

“Because I care about children,” I told him. “If someone confesses to you about child abuse, I understand you refuse to notify authorities. So I thought I’d ask you and then do it myself.”

He waved his hand. “You know it’s wrong to say the church doesn’t care about children.”

“Sure you care. Just not enough to put aside your religious rules and do anything about it.”

A sudden wind blew his violet skullcap off his head and it fell at his feet. He bent down to pick it up, being careful no to get his white robe dirty. I stepped a bit closer so it wouldn’t be so easy for him to walk away. “Any Priest who hears about child abuse is obligated to report it,” he said as he stood up. “It’s only for what’s shared during confession that we need an exemption. Because of the sacred seal.”

“Because if you tell anyone what you found out during confession, even to help prevent child abuse, you’re liable excommunication and eternal damnation (p. 15).”

“That’s right.” He nodded, without a trace of irony.

“And you don’t think preventing child abuse is a good enough reason for the state to require you to violate your religion?”

He gave me that sympathetic look clergy use when a congregant keeps asking pesky questions about faith and refuse to just shup up and accept a tried and true millennia-old answer. “What about the soul of the abuser?” he asked. “The solution is for the priest to encourage the penitent to inform the authorities on his own, or to arrange to receive the information again in a different setting (p. 21). That way the sacred seal of confession will remain unharmed.”

I put my hands on my hips. Two Japanese-looking young women, both wearing shirts from the Seattle Art Museum and holding the city guides distributed for free at the airport, passed by walking up the stairs towards the church. They slowed to glance at us. I couldn’t tell if they were looking at me, or maybe wondering if the Archbishop was someone famous and trying to decide whether to ask him to be in a selfie. I frowned, and they continued inside.

“And what if that doesn’t work?” I asked Etienne. “You really think you’re going to burn in hell for helping to save a child?”

“This whole controversy is really about nothing,” the Archbishop said. “Did you realize that the state government also just passed a law that specifically exempts lawyers from reporting information about child abuse they get from clients (p. 16)? No one thinks that’s such a big problem.”

“So maybe they shouldn’t have passed that law either,” I said.

“Remember, parents, neighbors, and other caregivers are not mandatory reporters (p. 16). Everyone is comfortable with that. The likelihood that someone is going to give a priest actionable information that could be used to prevent child abuse, but not reveal that information to anyone else in any other setting, is absurdly small.”

A woman came out of the Church, looking lost and sad, with her eyes red like she had been crying. She seemed shocked to see the Archbishop. After a moment of hesitation, she stepped over. “Your excellency, may I ask you a question. It’s very, very important,” she said so softly her voice was nearly a whisper.

The Archbishop turned to her with a warm smile. “Of course,” he said.

“It’s about my oldest daughter, Elizabeth. She needs to hear the Lord’s voice. Would you pray that she agrees to go on the upcoming high school retreat?”

“Absolutely. And I’d be happy to call her about it myself if you give me the number.”

The woman brightened. I waited while Etienne typed the number into his phone. “There are some things I need to tell you,” the woman said to Etienne, then glanced at me.

“Is this confidential?” I asked. The woman nodded. “Then you shouldn’t worry. The Archbishop is extremely, extremely serious about confidentiality,” I told her.

She gave me a funny look, and Etienne cleared his throat. “Confidentiality is an important part of being a member of the clergy,” he said. “But when hearing confession, it becomes a sacred religious duty as well.”

“That you must defend even if it requires the shedding of blood (p. 5),” I added.

“That’s only a metaphor,” he snapped.

“Okay, but you must agree the government has the right to put limits on religious beliefs at least sometimes. I mean, what if someone decided actually shedding blood or putting children in danger was a necessary part of their religion?”

“I’m sure you’re right. But the Catholic Church would never condone doing anything that is harmful to society. Also by the way, this Archdiocese has taken tremendous steps to protect children (p. 21).”

I shrugged. The woman stepped closer, so her shoulder was between me and Etienne, nudging me aside. “Six months ago my husband and I decided to separate. Just as sort of a trial,” she began.

“If you’d excuse us,” Etienne said to me. “Perhaps there is some research related to space travel that you need to attend to?”

If only. Earth has none of the materials needed to build a wormhole gate. “I really think you should consider how you’re conscience will feel if you hear something in a confession and don’t take action,” I told him.

“And maybe you should recognize that confession lightens the conscience of the penitent by providing atonement and forgiveness. But that requires confidentiality. Or maybe on your planet there is no such thing as forgiveness?”

The woman began describing how her daughter had always been a good child, but recently began skipping school and hanging around with kids from what she called ‘bad families.’ I decided to go. I thought of heading to the Space Needle, but instead decided to go to the Chihuly glass garden. The shapes of those sculptures remind me of home.

On my planet of course we have forgiveness, but nothing like what Earthlings refer to as religion. Maybe that’s why I’m struck by how easy it is for humans to invoke religion as a justification for violating one another’s rights. But I suppose the Archbishop has a point- religion can do good, too.

Questions:

  1. What do we do when a religious group claims that a law forces adherents to violate their faith? . How much respect do we give religious beliefs, and at what point do we say that religion can’t be an excuse for not following the law?
  2. A key reason the judge concludes this law is unconstitutional is that while the State of Washington wants to require priests to report what they hear in confessions, it also exempts other professionals, such as lawyers, from reporting confidential information they may receive from clients (p. 21). Does religion deserve this high level of deference, such that if an exemption is created for anyone else then there must be an exemption for religion too?
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