Shalzed can’t understand why one damaged statue sparks instant outrage while far greater suffering remains endlessly debated.
I Put the Dishes in the Microwave. Then Shalzed Asked About Nukes
Why do we trust some countries with nuclear weapons, but not others?
Shalzed stopped me on my way to buy a post-Passover pizza to ask about Israel’s death penalty law.
Shalzed thinks equal justice should be simple: the same crime, the same punishment. A conversation with Itamar Ben Gvir complicates things.
Spain apologized for 1521. Shalzed is upset. What if Passover is next?
Spain apologizes for something that happened 500 years ago. Shalzed wonders how long responsibility for the wrongs of our ancestors should last.
I told Shalzed it was just tough talk about the war. Then he surprised me. . .
I tried to explain that Hegseth probably didn’t mean literally what he said at the press conference. Then Shalzed asked why I don’t give our enemies the same benefit of the doubt.
The Drone Fund: Should War Be an Investment?
For investors, war can be profitable. A new fund seeks to capitalize on rising demand for drones and ammunition — but is the right way to boost your savings? Shalzed investigates.
The Drone Fund: Should War Be an Investment?
I was at home doing my taxes when Shalzed rang the doorbell. I buzzed him up. “Welcome,” I said as he came in the door.
“I wanted to. . .” he began. Then he noticed that I was working at my computer and asked if I was busy.
I smiled. “Just finishing up my taxes,” I told him.
He noticed a paper on my desk. “What’s that?” he asked, wrinkling his forehead.
“It’s the fact sheet for an investment a friend of mine recommended,” I replied. “I’m going to make a contribution to my retirement fund before I file, and I need to decide what to do with it.”
Shalzed picked up the paper. “A fund for drones and modern warfare?” he asked.
I shrugged. “With the current war in Iran, along with what’s been going on in Ukraine, defense spending is sure to go up,” I told him. “And now every military needs drones.”
Shalzed looked aghast. “You want to make money by investing in companies that build robots that kill people?” he asked.
I hadn’t really thought about that before, and suddenly I felt uncertain. “It’s just an investment,” I mumbled. Then I found myself inside the familiar black tunnel, and a moment later I was standing next to Shalzed in a large executive office. A middle aged man wearing a blue suit and blue tie was sitting behind a desk, staring at his computer. A name plaque on the desk said Matthew Bielski, CEO of Defiance ETFs. Behind him, a city skyline showed through a wall of glass.
“How can you encourage people to invest in companies that make weapons?” Shalzed asked.
Bielski shook his head in surprise. “Who are you?” he asked.
“I had been thinking of investing in your drone warfare fund,” I told him. “My friend is here to learn about human rights, and he has some questions.”
“Our funds have a solid track record of outperforming the market. I believe drone technology could be Wall Street’s next big winner.”
“But do you really want to profit from making machines that kill?” Shalzed asked.
Bielski frowned. “If it wasn’t for drones, Russia would have already taken over Ukraine.”
“What if drones are used for war crimes?” Shalzed asked.
“That’s the responsibility of whoever uses them, not us,” Bielski said.
A guy in his twenties carried a stack of papers into the office. “The DRNL documents are ready for you,” he told Bielski.
“Great,” Bielski said. “I’ll take care of it in a minute.”
“DRNL?” Shalzed asked.
“It’s a new, leveraged fund that gives twice the daily performance of companies making drones and their ammunition,” he said. Then he looked at me. “It’s for active, experienced traders,” he said.
I guess he could sense that I was a teacher with just a few thousand dollars in my IRA, not someone who played the stock market.
“So you’re hoping for more wars,” Shalzed said, pointing one of his long, blue fingers at Bielski. “Because every time there’s a war, you profit.”
The guy who brought the papers looked smug. “If they aren’t fighting a war, they’re arming for the next one,” he said.
Bielski clicked his tongue. “We don’t start wars,” he said. “The companies we buy stock in just give governments the tools they need to protect their citizens.”
“But buying the stock of companies that make weapons enables them to develop. Then you’re part of the whole war machine,” Shalzed said.
Bielski leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. “So just one question,” he began.
“What?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable with the silence.
“If you don’t like weapons, what do you think would be a better investment?”
“How about companies that make food?” Shalzed said quickly. “That’s something all people need.”
Bielski scoffed. “Do you really want to support factory farming? Or companies that make cheap processed food that’s a health disaster?”
“What about companies that make clothing?” Shalzed asked.
Bielski smiled. “Most of them operate sweatshops and many are accused of modern slavery.”
Shalzed wrinkled his forehead. “What about transportation? Trains, planes, and automobiles?”
“Ever heard of climate change?” Bielski asked. “Car companies are lobbying against rules requiring cars to be more efficient. Airplanes are one of the biggest polluters.”
Shalzed looked down.
“Well right now I just own an index fund,” I said.
Bielski grinned. “So congratulations, you already have weapons companies in your portfolio,” he said. “There are at least a dozen in the S&P 500.”
Suddenly I was in the tunnel, and a moment later back in my apartment. This time Shalzed was still with me. I turned to my computer. I don’t know why, but I felt it would be embarrassing for Shalzed to see how much money I made. But the tax program had timed out.
Shalzed picked up the fund’s fact sheet again. “So are you really going to buy stock in companies working to perfect drone warfare?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure. “The amount I’d invest is almost nothing compared to what companies are worth. It’s not going to make any difference,” I told him.
“If you see on the news that children were killed in a drone strike, do you want to feel like you had even a small part in that?” he asked. “When you see countries launching waves of drones, will it make you happy to think that means more orders?”
I swallowed. “I’m just trying to make my retirement account go up,” I said.
Shalzed turned towards the door, then stopped to glance at the drone fund fact sheet, still on my desk. “And do you want Earth fighting wars with even more advanced weapons by the time you retire?” he asked.
Before It’s Too Late
The United States and Israel claimed self-defense as the justification for their attack on Iran. But even though Iran is a hostile country that has threatened the U.S. and Israel many times, it didn’t seem to be a significant threat right now. Shalzed confronts U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Mike Waltz with this question.
Before It’s Too Late
I was on the phone with my brother, who had moved to Israel four years ago. He was telling me about how his daughter was very upset about school being cancelled when the siren sounded. I hung up right away so he and his family could get to their shelter. Then Shalzed called.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “How could the U.S. and Israel launch such an attack?”
“Well, we can’t let Iran get nuclear weapons.”
“But that’s not a reason to start a war,” Shalzed said.
I figured Shalzed probably didn’t know much about Iran. Before I could say anything, though, I was in the black tunnel. By now I was used to it enough that I was no longer afraid, and I really wanted to find out how it worked. A moment later I was outside the United Nations in New York, with Shalzed next to me. A man wearing a blue suit with a U.S. flag pin on his jacket was standing nearby, trying to attach a lapel microphone to his jacket. “Ambassador Waltz,” Shalzed called.
The Ambassador turned and looked at Shalzed. “Who are you?” he asked.
“I don’t understand. Countries can only use force to defend themselves,” Shalzed began.
“I’m sorry, I’m just about to go live on Fox News,” Waltz replied, gesturing Shalzed and I to move along. A few steps away, a reporter was conferring with a cameraman.
“But didn’t the U.S. and Israel just violate the UN charter?” Shalzed persisted.
Waltz shook his head and sighed. “Absolutely not,” he said. “Iran has thousands of missiles and is attempting to develop nuclear weapons besides.”
“But how can you say it’s self-defense if they didn’t attack?” Shalzed asked.
“Almost ready,” the reporter called. “Do a sound check, please.”
Waltz nodded. “The Iranian government killed thousands of its own citizens in recent protests,” he said in a robot-like monotone. The reporter gave him a thumbs up. Then he continued in a normal voice, “Some say tens of thousands. We may never know the real number.”
“And that means you can bomb their nuclear facilities?” Shalzed asked.
“Iran’s leaders have been leading chants of death to America and death to Israel for decades,” I interjected. “They even put a clock in the center of Tehran counting down the days until Israel is destroyed.”
Shalzed looked shocked. “Well how can they do that? Didn’t the UN tell them to take it down?”
I laughed, and Waltz also chuckled. “No,” he said. “Evidently, there’s nothing against countdown clocks in the UN charter.”
The reporter walked over. “I’m sorry, we’re delayed just a couple of minutes,” she said. “They broke in with an update from Tel-Aviv.”
“What happened?” I asked, worried people may have been killed.
“Direct hit on a school. But it wasn’t occupied, no injuries.”
“You see, Iran doesn’t follow any international law,” Waltz said. “They shoot missiles at schools, they fire randomly at cities. Then we’re the ones that get criticized.”
“Can you say that when we’re live?” the reporter asked.
“Of course,” Waltz replied. “And I’ll also mention that right now they are carrying out aggression against Saudi Arabia and the Gulf States too. Then people make it out like the United States is the one that doesn’t follow the law.”
Shalzed crossed his hands against his chest. “I understand the government of Iran does bad things. But can that justify an invasion?”
The reporter looked at Waltz expectantly. I had a feeling she was interested to hear his reply, too.
“So should Israel wait until they have ten thousand missiles, many armed with nuclear warheads, and then it’s too late?” he asked.
“Israel can’t risk a nuclear armed Iran,” I added.
“Almost ready,” the cameraman called as he lifted a bulky tv camera onto his shoulder.
Waltz straightened his hair with his hand. “Bottom line,” he said. “Countries are entitled to defend themselves. Iran has been a threat in the past, and we have every reason to believe they will continue to be a threat in the future.”
“Say that on air,” the reporter said.
“But Iran wasn’t a threat right now,” Shalzed interjected. “And any country could potentially be a threat sometime in the future.”
A light on the camera turned on. “Five,” the cameraman said, then he started counting down.
The reporter stepped in front of us, right next to Waltz. As the light on the camera changed color she began. “I’m here at the United Nations with U.S. Ambassador Mike Waltz. Mr. Waltz, you just explained to the security council that the action against Iran is completely in keeping with international law. Give us a recap.”
As Waltz began speaking I was back in the black tunnel. I tried to feel around for any clues about what it was made of or how it operated, but before I found anything I was back in my apartment. My phone was ringing- it was my brother calling back.
“Everything alright?” I asked as I picked up.
“Yeah,” he said. “A missile got through the iron dome and hit a school. The building was destroyed, but no one was hurt.”
“Near you?” I asked.
“Just a few kilometers away. Thank God we’re fighting this war now, while Iran still doesn’t have nuclear weapons.”
I told him I was glad he was safe, then I shook my head. Once Iran got the bomb, it would be too late. But if every country struck before it was too late, war would also be endless.
Did It Work? Purim’s Hardest Question
Shalzed hears the story of Purim — and gets stuck on the ending. Yes, the Jews are saved. Yes, Haman’s plot fails. But then comes the part we don’t always linger on. Shalzed has some questions. . .
Did It Work? Purim’s Hardest Question
It was Thursday night, and in addition to preparing a salad to bring with for Shabbat dinner, I had to practice the chapters of the megillah that I had committed to read on Purim. But Shalzed said he really wanted to take out more books on human rights but couldn’t without my card, so I agreed to meet him at the library.
When I got there he was waiting in the lobby, absorbed in a book titled The Last Utopia: Human Rights in History. I tapped him on the shoulder and he said he was ready to check out, and a few minutes later we were out the door.
“I’m sorry to be in such a rush,” I told him. “But I have to practice my megillah reading tonight.”
“Your what?” Shalzed asked.
I smiled. “Next week is Purim. We read the book of Esther.”
“You already know how to read, so why do you have to practice?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, but the book of Esther is written on a Hebrew scroll. To chant it, you have to memorize all the cantillation marks along with all the vowels.”
He didn’t understand, so I stopped at a bench and showed him the copies of the Hebrew pages I had taken along in my backpack. Shalzed examined them carefully. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing to the section where the lines look different. There was only one word on the left, one on the right, and a blank space in the middle.
“It’s the ten sons of Haman,” I told him. “That’s the way their names are written.”
“Why?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Because they were all hanged at the same time. The tradition is to read all the names in one breath.”
“Hanged?” Shalzed looked aghast.
“Because Haman tried to destroy the Jewish people,” I explained.
“So I see you’re getting ready.” I recognized Rabbi Meyer’s voice behind me and turned around.
“I’ll be all set,” I said as we shook hands. Rabbi Meyer was the rabbi of Congregation Anshei Shalom. I went there most Shabbats, and that was where I would be reading the megillah.
“Why should Haman’s sons be hanged for a crime committed by their father?” Shalzed asked.
Rabbi Meyer gave him a funny look. I told him that Shalzed was a friend from far away who was interested in learning more about human rights. “It says in the Talmud that Haman’s sons had key parts in the plot,” Rabbi Meyer said. “There are many aspects of the Purim story that at first appear problematic, but the Talmud always provides an explanation.”
“Like for all the killing at the end?” I asked.
“What killing?” Shalzed added, looking confused.
Rabbi Meyer smiled. “In the last section of the megillah, the Jews turned the tables and were able to kill all those who had been planning to harm them. But the megillah uses the word ‘enemies’ to describe those the Jews killed, to emphasize that they weren’t innocent bystanders.”
“But just because someone is an enemy, that doesn’t mean it’s okay to kill them,” Shalzed said.
“Rabbi Meyer, I’m so glad to see you, I have to ask you a question,” a woman exiting the library said. I didn’t know her name, but I thought I recognized her from shul.
“Is it urgent? I have to pick up a book for my son, then get back to shul for ma’ariv.” He looked at me when he said that, but I didn’t respond. I had already told him that I wasn’t willing to go each evening, even though they usually needed help with a minyan.
“It’s about Shifra,” the woman said.
Rabbi Meyer nodded and they stepped to the side.
“See you on Shabbos,” I told him. Then I turned to Shalzed. “The megillah tells the story of how Haman rose to power and convinced the king to allow him to slaughter all the Jewish people.” I gestured to the papers I was practicing from. “The Jews were saved because at the last moment Mordechai and Esther changed the king’s mind. It’s only natural that then they wanted some revenge.”
Shalzed wrinkled his nose. “What about international agreements?” he asked.
I couldn’t help but laugh again. “The Purim story took place long ago, way before any of that,” I said.
“So long ago on Earth, a king could just decide to wipe out an entire people?”
“Pretty much,” I said. “That’s why at the end of the story the Jews did so much killing. They had to use their moment in power to create fear so no one would try to become another Haman.”
Shalzed considered. “Did it work?” he asked.
This caught me by surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Did killing lots of people prevent future plots against the Jews?”
I shrugged. I had never really thought about that. “I suppose,” I told him. “At the end of the megillah the Jewish people are secure.”
“And what about after?”
I thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” I said. “That’s when the Purim story ends, so it doesn’t say.”
Shalzed seemed surprised. “But history continues.”
A teenager on a skateboard passed by, staring at Shalzed. “Yo, Smurf!” he called. Then he picked up his skateboard and went into a store called ‘Cloud Nine Vape Shop’ right next to the library.
It made me angry, but Shalzed seemed unaffected. “What’s a Smurf?” he asked.
“Never mind,” I told him. “It’s just a stupid kid on a skateboard,” I said, more sharply than I had meant to. I put the papers back in my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. “It probably kept them safe at least for a while. As long as Mordechai and Esther were still in the palace and the same king was on the throne.”
“You said the Purim story happened a long time ago, and that’s why they had to rely on making their enemies afraid. What about today?” Shalzed asked. “If it happened today, would Mordechai and Esther still have tried to instill fear, or would they have felt safer because of human rights and the international system?”
I shrugged again.
Shalzed seemed surprised. “If even now people need to rely on fear to feel safe, will things ever be different?”
Do Courts Make Wars Last Longer?
Can international courts help end wars — or do they unintentionally prolong them? Shalzed goes looking for answers. . . and also tries some new cookies at a conference.
Do Courts Make Wars Last Longer?
Shalzed heard about an academic conference titled “The End of War.” Personally, I doubted whether a bunch of college professors really had secrets that could help save the galaxy, but Shalzed was adamant about going. Since it was over President’s day weekend when I had off of school, I agreed.
When we arrived Shalzed was immediately drawn to a platter of round, green cookies next to the coffee. “Are these regenerative nutrient capsules to heal all who have been wounded?” he asked.
I laughed. “No,” I told him. I pointed to a small sign that said, ‘White chocolate matcha energy bites.’ He ate five, and then I steered him towards the hall where the sessions were because people around the coffee table were starting to give him dirty looks.
There were some introductory speeches, and then a session titled ‘Climate Change as a Conflict Multiplier’ in which panelists took turns explaining how much worse today’s problems were going to become.
“They aren’t giving ways to make peace at all,” Shalzed whispered. I shrugged.
The next session was two women from different universities speaking about the role of international courts in ending wars. One was named Laurie Blank, and the other Daphné Richemond-Barak. Shalzed seemed upset as they explained why courts were of limited use in making peace and could actually end up making wars longer. When it was over, we went to the front because Shalzed had some questions.
As soon as Laurie got free from talking with someone else, Shalzed asked, “I don’t understand. Isn’t anything that holds people accountable a step in the right direction?”
“You’d think so,” she replied. “But remember that peace agreements are made by leaders. One of our key findings is that, ironically, leaders are usually very safe while a war is going on. It’s once the fighting stops that leaders personally are likely to face extreme danger.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. To me that sounded confusing.
She smiled. “When a war ends, often investigators are finally able to get access and document atrocities. That can lead to leaders being indicted. And if there is also a change of government, leaders might lose their immunity or ability to shield themselves from prosecution.”
Shalzed looked aghast. “Do you mean someone might prolong a war, causing suffering for millions, just for their own self-interest?” he asked.
That sounded all too real to me. “According to our research, that happens all the time,” Laurie said.
“Not being able to offer amnesty is also another issue,” Daphne added as the man she had been talking to started walking away.
“Amnesty for what?” I asked.
“War crimes, rebellion. . .” she began.
“The issue is that the International Criminal Court in the Hague is not obligated to honor any amnesty agreements, even if they’re offered by a government,” Laurie interrupted. “Militia members may be extra hesitant to lay down their arms since there is no way to offer assurance that the ICC won’t decide to prosecute them in the future.”
Shalzed’s jaw dropped. “But don’t war crimes have to be punished?” he asked.
Laurie pursed her lips. “Sure,” she said. “But our point is that it’s easy to sit safely far away and demand justice, but insisting that a peace agreement allow for prosecuting war crimes may prolong the fighting and suffering that goes with it.”
I didn’t like the way that sounded. “But if everyone knows they’re likely to get amnesty, what’s the point of having courts to prosecute war crimes to begin with?” I asked.
A man who seemed like he was the next presenter approached and signaled to Daphne that he needed to hook up his computer. She and Laurie both got up to go.
“I like the point you made about jurisdiction,” the man said as he took out his laptop.
Laurie smiled. “Thank you for attending our session,” she replied.
“I didn’t understand that either,” Shalzed said. “If international courts don’t have jurisdiction over conflicts that lead to wars, then what is their point?” he asked.
“They do have jurisdiction,” Laurie answered. “But often over only one side. For example, the International Court of Justice only hears disputes between countries. That means if a country is at war with a non-state armed group, the court has jurisdiction over the country only, but not the people it is fighting.”
“That’s why only Israel is on trial at the International Court of Justice, but not Hamas,” I added.
“Exactly,” Daphne replied. “And the International Criminal Court is supposed to have jurisdiction to prosecute all war crimes and crimes against humanity. But it can’t possibly look at everything, so it focuses only on what the prosecutor believes is most serious.
“So they pick and choose?” Shalzed asked.
“They have to. And when the prosecutor decides not to investigate a crime because it doesn’t seem serious enough, victims of those crimes get angry and say it’s not fair,” Daphne said.
The next presenter cleared his throat and glanced at the room, which was rapidly filling. Daphne took another step to go, but then a woman came and asked if she would autograph her book, titled Underground Warfare. People were still filing in, so she took a pen from purse. As she did so, the woman remarked that after listening to the talk she was starting to wonder if maybe we’d be better off without any international courts at all.
“Absolutely not,” Daphne said as she signed inside the front cover. “International courts have vital functions. We’re just pointing out that ending a war is a political decision, shaped by military, diplomatic, and economic conditions, not courts. That’s all.”
“And courts can easily complicate the peacemaking process rather than help,” Laurie added. “When a court gets involved while a war is still going, the court itself becomes a weapon as well.”
The woman put her signed book in her purse and gestured to the nearly full room. “The next session is titled ‘Hope as policy, peace as process,’ she said. “Everyone will want to come.” She scurried to take the last empty seat in the first row.
“Judges can at least document facts,” Shalzed said.
Daphne put her pen back in her purse and nodded. “That’s true, but courts do that best after a war is finished. While a war is still going on, they have limited ability to get full information, and are prone to being misled by propaganda from one or both of the sides.”
“Especially if not all parties to the conflict agree to cooperate,” Laurie added. Laurie and Daphne headed towards the stairs, and I sort of hoped Shalzed would follow their lead and decide to skip the next session. But instead, he found us two empty seats.
“I’m excited about this next speaker,” Shalzed said as we took our places.
I wrinkled my forehead. “Why?” I asked.
“If peace is a process, it must be about to finish.”
The man in front of us laughed and turned around. “Peace is a never-ending process,” he said.
Shalzed frowned. “Then does war ever end?”
Source: The ideas in this piece are taken from a recent series of articles on the website Just Security, asking if there is a role for international courts in ending wars. Link here.
Free Speech, With an Exception
An Israeli comedian was blocked from performing in New York and Los Angeles by a throng of protesters. Sounds like something free speech advocates should be up in arms about, right? This week Shalzed visits the free speech advocacy organization PEN America to find out.
Free Speech, With an Exception
As I locked my bike outside the library, I remembered the time I first met Shalzed. He had been trying to leave with a book without checking out. Then I saw him right on the nearby corner of Main and 3rd Street, walking towards me.
“A comedian wasn’t allowed to perform because of protests,” he said.
I finished scrambling the dials on my lock and stood up to face him. “Let me take a random guess- the comedian was Israeli.”
“How did you know?” Shalzed asked in surprise.
I typed into my phone ‘Israel comedian cancel’ and quickly found the information. “His name is Guy Hochman. They cancelled on him once in New York and once in Los Angeles,” I said. “Because of anti-Israel protests.”
“But doesn’t that violate his freedom of expression?” Shalzed asked.
I noticed a link to a statement from Pen America opposing the cancellations. “Of course it does,” I told Shalzed. “And one of the largest free speech organizations in America says so too.”
Suddenly we were in the black tunnel, and a moment later in the lobby of the Equitable Building in the financial district of Manhattan. I saw right away on the list of tenants that PEN was on the 26th floor.
“Mr. Friedman,” Shalzed called to a bald, middle-aged man wearing a blue suit jacket and slacks, carrying a briefcase and coffee cup as he headed towards the elevator. “Can you explain why an Israeli comedian was not allowed to perform?”
Friedman stopped and sighed. “I understand what you’re referring to, and it’s a very sensitive situation.”
“Why?” Shalzed asked. “Isn’t everyone entitled to freedom of expression?”
Friedman shook his head. “Free speech protects against government censorship, not from the consequences of oppressive statements an individual has chosen to make or from private venues deciding not to host him.”
“Oppressive statements?” I asked.
“The Los Angeles venue asked him to sign a document condemning Israel for genocide, rape, starving, and torturing Palestinian civilians, and he refused,” Friedman said. “The cancellation was a direct consequence of that.”
“But that has nothing to do with the content of his performance,” Shalzed said. “And would you require any other performer to denounce their country before stepping on stage?”
“Are Palestinians required to denounce Hamas and the Oct. 7th massacre as a condition for free speech?” I added.
“I’m sorry, I have a meeting,” Friedman said. He turned and pushed the elevator call button.
“Are you saying that even though you oppose censorship, you’re still okay with venues cancelling someone based on their nationality?”
Friedman turned back around. “It’s not his nationality,” he said. “It’s accountability for him saying he’s proud to be Israeli and to have served in the IDF.”
“Accountability for his choices, or for where he happened to be born?” Shalzed asked.
I wrinkled my forehead. “I thought you oppose the cancellations,” I said.
A man walking by carrying a gym bag stopped by Friedman to say hello. Friedman looked like he wanted him to stick around, but the man said he was in a hurry to get to his new strength and conditioning boot camp. While they talked I pulled out my phone and clicked the PEN link again. The page I saw before had now been replaced. Now there was just a short note: “On further consideration, PEN America has decided to withdraw its previous statement.” My mouth dropped open. As the man with the exercise bag walked away, I turned my phone so Friedman could see it. “Now you think cancelling the shows was okay?”
Friedman glanced towards the indicator above the elevators, which showed one descending past the fourth floor. “Local Palestinian groups told us his performance would have made them feel unsafe.”
“Would you allow a Palestinian performer to be cancelled if a Jewish group said it made them feel unsafe?” I asked.
“Safety means different things when there’s a power imbalance,” Friedman said. “And platforming isn’t neutral. Our mission is to protect artists who are vulnerable or silenced, not public figures who justify oppression.”
The elevator chimed and the doors opened. Friedman moved to the side so several people could exit.
“Why did you at first condemn the cancellation, then change your mind?” I asked.
Friedman shook his head. “Many staff and donors have especially strong feelings about this case. As a small organization, we focus on issues where we can speak with a strong and united voice.”
He stepped into the elevator, quickly pressed a button, and waited for the door to close.
“With Jewish and Israeli writers and artists being cancelled right and left, I’d think this is actually where you ought to focus,” I said as the elevator doors closed.
I turned to Shalzed, who was shaking his head. Then we were back in the black tunnel, and I was once again outside the library. I looked around, but no sign of Shalzed. I wondered whether he was changing his opinion about Earth.
I went into the library and saw the new display in the lobby was a table of banned books. The sign above it read, “Stand With the Banned.” I wondered whether my own library would feature books by Israeli or Jewish authors, or whether it would give in to protests or try to make writers sign statements as a condition for being included, too?
Sources:
Coverage of Pen’s reversal from the Algemeiner
On the L.A. cancellation from AOL
Pen’s revised statement is here