“[W]ith sufficient political will and resources—principled accountability for violations of international law can be achieved” (p. 311). This message brings forth the very essence of Meron's book: optimistic, as it trusts the inherent goodness of international criminal justice; conscientious, as it signals that such goodness inevitably depends on the respect for principles of fairness toward the defendants; yet pragmatic, as it realistically acknowledges the key role of politics in the success of the international criminal justice enterprise.

Standing Up for Justice follows the steps of Theodor Meron's life as a judge of international criminal tribunals, by blending legal analysis and autobiographical notes. The author is well-known for having been the first president of the International Residual Mechanism for Criminal Tribunals (Mechanism), a four-term president of the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), and a Judge on the Appeals Chamber of the latter tribunal and of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR). An academic at heart, Meron has also taught at several universities around the world, most notably the Graduate Institute of International and Development Studies in Geneva, NYU Law School, and the University of Oxford.

The insights offered by his first-hand tale are, unsurprisingly, unique. As such, the book is recommended to both specialists in international criminal law, who might like to see the field through the eyes of one of its towering figures, and non-specialists who would like to learn more about international criminal justice from an insider's perspective. The first half of this review will provide a bird's eye view of the book's structure and content. The second half will zoom in to the key themes of the book, namely: the importance of fairness toward the defendant; law as the only authority to which judges must yield; and Meron's faith in international criminal justice as a project.

The book comprises thirteen chapters divided into three parts. Part I, titled “Setting the Scene,” is imbued with autobiographical elements. It starts with a chapter (“Roots: The Road to Judgeship”) on Judge Meron's story, starting from his love of forests and his direct experience of the Holocaust as a child, moving quickly to his work as legal advisor to Israel's Ministry of Foreign Affairs, his transition to academia, and his love for Oxford and Shakespeare. This is the most intimate part of the book, unveiling the man behind the international lawyer and providing the filter through which the rest of the book must be read. Chapter II (“From Classroom to a Criminal Courtroom”), then, introduces Meron's internal dialectic which follows the reader throughout the whole book: on one side, the intellectual excitement and sense of responsibility that judgeship brings, accompanied by the mission to be faithful to the law and principles of fairness; on the other, judges’ lack of freedom to express themselves and constant exposure to criticism, which can be so hurtful at the personal level. Meron contextualizes the higher goal which a judgeship at an international criminal tribunal seeks to achieve in Chapter III (“Moving from Nuremberg to The Hague”), by narrating a short history of international criminal justice and building a bridge toward the more technical chapters to come.

In Part II (“Principles, Goals, Processes”), Meron offers reflections on themes which clearly became dear to him during his service as a judge. Chapter IV (“The Rule of Law, The Principle of Legality and Due Process”) dives deep into the theme of fairness of proceedings, which Meron believes to be an indispensable source of legitimacy for international criminal tribunals (p. 72). In this light, Meron analyses resort to customary international law by the tribunals and the risks of trespassing from judicial interpretation into judicial creativity, anathema to an advocate of fairness (pp. 83–84, 87). He then argues for the respect of several due process guarantees during international criminal proceedings, most notably the presumption of innocence but also the rights to be represented by counsel and to self-representation, the right to be tried without undue delay, the right of appeal, the right to be tried in one's own presence and the right to a public hearing (pp. 92–102). Chapter V (“Trying Violations of Human Rights in International Criminal Tribunals”) looks at how values of humanity took hold of certain branches of international law driving a development of substantive law and the creation of mechanisms to establish accountability for violations. It reads like an interlude before yet another deep dive into a topic close to Meron's heart, namely “Judicial Independence and Impartiality” (Chapter VI). Clearly, considerable thought and passion went into these pages, as Meron shares strong views on the breadth and limits of the judicial function, and on the ethics which must accompany its performance. He reminds the reader that judicial independence and impartiality—and their perception by the public—are some of the pillars on which the project of international criminal justice rests. He recounts the saga of Judge Akay, who was arrested in Turkey whilst working for the Mechanism. Meron's loyalty toward his colleague and resolve to defend the independence of a fellow judge are here in full display. Chapter VII (“Judicial Decision-Making and Deliberations”) tells a day in the life of an Appeals Chamber's judge in an international criminal tribunal, from the drafting of a preparatory document before the hearing to post-hearing deliberations and judgment drafting. The tale of these practices is precious not only because of the author's first-hand experience but also because the relevant process is “mostly shrouded in secrecy” (p. 149). Here, one can actually feel how much Meron enjoyed his work and considered it the fruit of dialectic thinking in concert with his colleagues. Chapters VIII (“Keeping POWs Safe: The Ovčara Massacre”) and IX (“General Gotovina: A Controversial Acquittal”) signal the transition from the discussion of general themes to the analysis of specific decisions. It seems as if Meron considers these two decisions as emblematic of his experience of judgeship: on one side, the pride of having contributed to clarifying that state agents who find themselves with custody of prisoners of war have a positive duty to protect them (p. 170);Footnote ¹ on the other, the disappointment for the criticism of Gotovina's controversial acquittal, which the author considered necessary out of fairness to the defendant and respect for due process and fair trial principles. In that case, the Appeals Chamber's majority—including Meron—after having reversed the conviction initially entered by the Trial Chamber on the basis of Gotovina's participation in a joint criminal enterprise the common purpose of which was to permanently remove the Serbian population from the Krajina region, refused to replace the flawed trial judgment reasoning with a different one, and enter a conviction based on an alternate mode of liability, which had not been the object of litigation during the trial proceedings.Footnote ²

Part III (“Selected Decisions”) continues on the trend of analyzing Meron's body of work as a judge. Chapter X (“Fleshing Out Principles of Fairness”) is devoted to a number of decisions on topics related to due process guarantees and the fairness of proceedings. The issues covered include undue delay, rules governing the testimony of witnesses, modalities of self-representation, principles of sentencing, and, most notably, questions about judicial independence and impartiality (effective or even just perceived). Of note, here Meron explicitly mentions the grave allegations of lack of independence and impartiality which former ICTY Judge Harhoff infamously made against him (pp. 190–91). The incident is not commented upon or mentioned further, and neither is one of the main cases related to the allegation, i.e., the acquittal of Perišić due to a contentious interpretation of aiding and abetting as a mode of liability.Footnote ³ This Chapter, while instructive, left me wanting a bit more: the criteria with which the various decisions have been selected are often not clear; there is some inconsistency, as some decisions are preceded by a summary of key issues, whilst some are left unexplained; the factual background of some is lacking; and the involvement or contribution by Meron himself is not evident. Readers who are familiar with the ICTY and ICTR case law, as opposed to non-specialists, will more easily grasp the significance of these excerpts. Chapter XI (“Writing Separately: My Dissenting and Concurring Opinions”) suffers from the same problems: it is not easy to understand the order of the various opinions, which appears to be vaguely thematic but could have been more systematically explained; the annotations at the end of each opinion do not add much to the text of the opinion itself, except (at times) for some much welcome background information. As with the previous chapter, the topics include some themes of clear importance to Meron: the alleged criminality of hate speech; the presumption of innocence and the burden of proof on the prosecutor; the power to increase a sentence or enter new convictions at the appeal stage—just to mention a few. The third chapter in this Part (Chapter XII, “Early Release of Prisoners Decisions”) is the one I found to be most original and insightful: it details Meron's own practice, as president of the ICTY and of the Mechanism, in assessing applications for early release by people who have been convicted by the Tribunals. In so doing, the chapter provides a glimpse into the post-judgment life of many individuals the names of whom may be familiar to the reader from well-known case law. Most remarkably, this chapter reveals the humanity of individuals who committed atrocity crimes, in their everyday life inside prisons and in their new powerless reality. It also speaks of Meron's empathy toward these people—for instance as in the case of Beara, who was granted a conditional early release for his poor health, despite the gravity of the crimes for which he had been convicted (p. 282). The collection of decisions is preceded by a general introduction at the beginning, followed by the excerpts. Annotations to each decision are not present but are not needed either: the excerpts speak for themselves.

The book ends with an Epilogue (“The Road Ahead: Does International Criminal Justice Work?”) in which Meron engages in a defense of the project of international criminal justice while soberly acknowledging its shortcomings—especially in terms of selectivity—but making many suggestions to overcome them. Most of the suggestions are calls to states, blamed for their inertia, to be more proactive in their pursuit of the project: from implementing their existing treaty obligations, to engaging more often in domestic prosecutions based on universal jurisdiction; from investing in judicial capacity building at the national and regional level, to conceiving multidimensional approaches to accountability, for instance by resort to independent investigative commissions. As is fitting, Meron ends his book by passing judgment: this time, on the success of international criminal justice to date, through a variety of indicators. He concedes that the extent to which perpetrators of international crimes are being prosecuted is not satisfactory. But he also believes that the whole project deserves praise for the overall level of fairness it has been able to show vis-à-vis defendants and for having been instrumental in the development of international law. Whether the project contributes to deterrence of further atrocities or to the healing process in affected communities, Meron wisely does not say.

Meron's attention toward the principles of due process, fairness, and the rights of the defendant is the fil rouge that binds the whole book together. As his selection of decisions shows, especially those on early release, he was not averse to putting the humanity of defendants and their rights ahead of the expectations of states or public opinion. For those who believe in the expressive function of proceedings and decisions of international criminal tribunals,Footnote ⁴ Meron sends a powerfully educative message: “it is from acts of humanity that seeds of reconciliation and a shared sense of humanity emerge” (p. 6, quoting from his own speech at the UN Holocaust Memorial Ceremony). He believes that integrity, respect, and consideration for humanity are contagious, and may spread more easily if those who have power (e.g., judges deciding over the fate of defendants) adhere to those values first. Even acquittals, no matter how controversial and painful to victims, are to him the only acceptable outcome when demanded by fairness and the presumption of innocence. Meron believes that it would be far worse for an international criminal tribunal to convict a defendant resting on an insufficient evidentiary or legal basis than to acquit one in such circumstances (pp. 23–24). In his own words: “Judges cannot be swayed by outside sentiment, by popular perceptions or criticisms or by preexisting narratives of guilt. Justice is and must be blind to all of that” (p. 347). One can hear, in these words, the echo of Meron's love for Shakespeare and for the values of chivalry and the “duty to act honourably” that the Bard sang (p. 27). Meron reminds that ensuring the fairness of international criminal proceedings toward defendants is not an impediment to achieving justice but an indispensable tool to achieve it (p. 62). Defendants are human beings as much as the victims of their crimes, and justice must be meted against them without obliterating their humanity.

Still, Meron's optimism is not oblivious to a certain dose of pragmatism. Meron's selected decisions are illuminating in this respect: fair trial rights may be subject to restrictions in the interests of proper administration of justice. For instance, due to defendant Milošević's obstructive behavior, restrictions to his right of self-representation were deemed to be appropriate, even if they had to be kept to a minimum (pp. 198–99).Footnote ⁵

The centrality of fairness in Meron's thought is inextricably tied to his vision of judgeship. His idea of the relationship between judges and their mandate borders on the religious:

The standard set appears to be high: a judge should leave behind all their personal preferences and live exclusively by law, precedents, and logic. Decisions reached in this way should ideally be predictable to both defendants and the general public and this, in turn, would be an expression of fairness (p. 118). Meron, in fact, disdains the temptation of some former academics to use their newly acquired judgeship to push “their preferred visions of the law, rather than adhere to judicial economy, neutrality and caution in their decisions” (pp. 37–38). One may note, however, that the law often leaves a margin for interpretation and that—ultimately—equally reasonable, independent, and impartial judges may be persuaded by different plausible solutions to the same legal problem. At times, these solutions may be labeled as innovative, yet this does not per se make them any less legally sound. Meron himself praises the development of the law on rape to which he contributed in Kunarac (p. 48),Footnote ⁶ or of the law applicable to non-international armed conflicts achieved by the ICTY Appeals Chamber in Tadić (pp. 49–50).Footnote ⁷ And Meron himself acknowledges the potential for dynamic and innovative judicial thinking, when he highlights the need for shielding private discussions between judges from public scrutiny: judges must feel free to share their provisional views with colleagues, test ideas, form stronger ideas through dialogue, and—if the case—change their mind before making a final judgment (p. 150). What must be made public is the reasoning which eventually supports the findings of facts and law (id.).

Furthermore, judgeship comes with a commitment not only to effective independence and impartiality, but also to behave in a way that does not give a reasonable observer, properly informed, reason to apprehend bias.Footnote ⁸ Thus, it is up to each judge to exercise restraint, for instance with respect to speaking engagements, to avoid undermining their public perception of independence and impartiality (pp. 123–24). Several times, throughout the book, Meron reiterates that judges should even refrain from publicly responding to criticism, no matter how harsh (p. 23). And so he mostly does, with a single exception: the book devotes the entire Chapter X to the controversial Gotovina acquittal, exhibiting excerpts of a judgment by the International Court of Justice in support of the correctness of the ICTY Appeals Chamber's findings.Footnote ⁹ It is notable, instead, that he chooses not to dwell on one of his most controversial decisions, i.e., Perišić's acquittal due to a particular interpretation of the notion of aiding and abetting.Footnote ¹⁰ This is in line with his comprehensible desire not to “revive controversies in which [his] Presidency of the Tribunals was sometimes involved” (p. 3).

Elsewhere, Meron understandably and commendably highlights the integrity with which he discharged its tasks. For instance, despite the great discretion of the ICTY president to choose the composition of judicial benches, he explains that he abided by the taxi-stand principle in assigning judges to them, to minimize the risk of being perceived as interfering with the outcome of the cases (p. 126). In this “integrity” light, one can also read his famous opinion on the illegality of settlements in occupied territory, delivered in 1967 when working for the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs (p. 10). Meron maintains that legal advisors to governments, like judges, must be faithful to the law rather than to the outcome desired by their employer: “Those of us who are committed to international law, and particularly to respect for international humanitarian law and the principles embodied therein, cannot remain silent when faced with such denials or self-serving interpretations” (p. 14).

Conscientious and competent judges are a key component of the project of international criminal justice which, for Meron, aims to achieve more than simple accountability. The values of fairness and integrity, ideally embodied by the international criminal tribunals and the people who work for them, are for Meron the basis for a more just society. Whilst not being insensitive to the projects’ failings, including selective accountability, his enthusiasm for the whole enterprise is evident frequently (p. 92). He notes frailties but also sees ways to address them.

Meron helpfully reminds the reader that the work of international criminal tribunals greatly contributed to the development of international law, especially the law applicable in times of armed conflict and other situations of acute crisis. It did so, among other things, by reviving resort to customary international law and by providing an “interpretative gloss” on the provisions of the Geneva Conventions and the Additional Protocols (p. 164). The uniqueness of the tribunals and the enormity of the task they faced, which Meron recalls, is sometimes forgotten amid fashionable skepticism about their work (pp. 144–45). For him, “the ICTY and the ICTR demonstrated in concrete terms that accountability for international crimes was possible, in full compliance with norms of fairness and due process, and it showed practically how this could be done” (p. 311). Meron witnessed first-hand a change of perspective: such accountability is no longer viewed as exceptional, but it has become an expectation. This is undoubtedly due—at least in part—to the work of the two UN ad hoc tribunals, as imperfect as it may have been.

Despite its many autobiographical references, Standing Up for Justice is not a book about its author's life. Except for the first chapter and a few anecdotes here and there, the book mostly covers Meron's adventures in judgeship at international criminal tribunals. Still, two traits of his personality powerfully emerge from the pages and deserve to be highlighted here.

The first is a complex, perhaps even conflictual, relationship with the consequences of judgeship. Meron, who undoubtedly loved his judicial job and equally undoubtedly performed it with competence, confesses never to have “acquired a thick skin” against criticism (p. 23). The pain of being subject to criticism, either well-founded or not, is mentioned several times. “My experience as an international criminal judge has been exhausting at times. It has been disquieting, frustrating and, practically always, solitary. It is painful to weather stoically, without responding, even the most hostile and offensive attacks” (p. 33). A sobering lesson about the fact that it is near to impossible for judges—or anyone publicly making important decisions for others, for that matter—to please everyone affected by such decisions.

The second personality trait that emerges is a vehicle of hope: a certain enthusiasm, almost a form of hunger, for seizing new windows of opportunity. The book tenders the image of a person who, whilst having accomplished a great deal, “peaked late,” and lived many different lives (p. 3). Just to stay on his professional endeavors, the reader meets Meron the legal advisor, Meron the civil society advocate, Meron the academic, Meron the judge. Taking up these different roles requires not only adaptability, but a good amount of willpower. As he himself reminds the reader, everybody's life is somehow shaped by chance and contingency. Even when faced with unforeseen circumstances, however, the choice of what moves to make or what road to take remains one's own. A lesson that the readers of Standing Up for Justice will no doubt appreciate, as I did myself.