Stop explaining. It is time for the UN to answer Israel’s questions

When new examples appear faster than one can write about them, it is reasonable to wonder whether we are still dealing with isolated incidents or with a systemic problem.

Recent weeks have provided several reasons to ask that question. US authorities have accused a senior figure in a major international charity that previously cooperated with UN bodies of supporting Hamas. Millions of people in Afghanistan face acute food insecurity, yet their suffering receives a fraction of the political attention devoted to other humanitarian crises. South Sudan remains in a devastating humanitarian emergency. The UN itself continues to document systematic human rights violations in Eritrea, while countries with such records still participate in shaping the international human rights agenda.

Recent data on Gaza produced within the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification, or IPC, also demonstrate why precision matters. Food insecurity, acute malnutrition and famine are distinct categories, yet in political and media discourse those distinctions are too often blurred.

Each of these cases can be debated separately. Taken together, however, they raise a broader question: How consistently does the international system apply its own principles?

The world is full of wars, persecution, hunger, mass violence and the displacement of millions. The United Nations addresses many of these tragedies, and it would be unfair to ignore the enormous contribution of UN personnel who genuinely save lives.

Yet over decades, one country has become the subject of an extraordinary and self-perpetuating institutional system of scrutiny. That country is Israel.

The UN Human Rights Council maintains a permanent Agenda Item 7 devoted to the “human rights situation in Palestine and other occupied Arab territories.” No other country has a comparable permanent country-specific agenda item. Since 2021, an ongoing Commission of Inquiry has investigated Israel and the Palestinian territories, while the mandate of the Special Rapporteur on the Palestinian territories dates back to 1993 and was established to continue until the end of the Israeli occupation.

Add to this the resolutions, special procedures, reports and commissions accumulated over decades. One may accept or challenge the conclusions of any individual report. What has become increasingly difficult to explain is the institutional disparity itself.

International standards have moral authority only when they are genuinely international and applied consistently.

There is an old Israeli joke that a military aircraft may have only two seats, but three people are always aboard: the pilot, the navigator and the lawyer.

Like most good jokes, it exaggerates something real. Legal advice is integrated into the planning and conduct of IDF operations. International humanitarian law, military necessity, proportionality and potential harm to civilians form part of the decision-making process.

This does not make the Israeli military infallible. No military is. Soldiers can violate orders and commanders can make wrong decisions. What matters is whether an army constrains itself by law, investigates alleged violations, and is prepared to hold its own personnel accountable.

It is also worth remembering that the IDF senior command is not the political guard of any Israeli government. Many senior officers, after leaving service, have publicly taken positions sharply at odds with governments they once served, and some have become outspoken critics of those governments. I say this not as criticism. On the contrary, it demonstrates that the legal and ethical constraints under which the IDF operates are institutional rather than partisan.

Israel must answer legitimate questions about the conduct of its military. It is equally entitled to demand impartiality from those asking them.

The case of Francesca Albanese illustrates the institutional problem particularly well.

Controversy surrounding the UN Special Rapporteur on the Palestinian territories did not begin with her most recent reports. Earlier public statements had already led to serious accusations of bias and the use of antisemitic tropes. Albanese rejects those accusations.

In 2026, several European governments publicly criticized her, with some calling for her resignation. The United States had already imposed sanctions on her.

But the more important issue is not Francesca Albanese herself. It is the system that places a person in such a sensitive international position.

How is impartiality assessed before an appointment? Are previous public statements and potential conflicts of interest systematically reviewed? What happens when serious questions arise after an appointment? Who is accountable for the decision, and what mechanism exists to correct a mistake?

These questions extend far beyond one Special Rapporteur.

There is a related problem with information published under the UN name.

Reports by the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, OCHA, on Gaza frequently identify their sources, including the Gaza Ministry of Health, Palestinian Civil Defense, and humanitarian partners. OCHA itself notes that figures not yet verified by the United Nations are attributed to their source.

Formally, that is appropriate. The difficulty begins after publication.

For much of the global audience, the distinction between “the UN has established” and “the UN has reported information supplied by one of the parties” quickly disappears. The information enters headlines, political statements and social media carrying the authority of the United Nations.

The greater the authority of an institution, the greater its responsibility for precision and for making the origin and status of information unmistakably clear. In wartime, this is not an academic distinction. It can shape public opinion and international policy.

For decades, the pattern has been remarkably consistent. A UN body makes an accusation, and Israel responds. A commission or report appears, and Israeli diplomats explain the country's position, correct factual errors, and challenge conclusions. Then the cycle begins again.

In a previous article, I argued that Israel should suspend its participation in the UN. Nothing that has happened since has persuaded me to soften that position. What is needed now is to define its practical purpose.

Israel should suspend its participation in the UN. At the same time, it should formally demand concrete answers from the United Nations.

Why is Israel the only country subjected to a permanent dedicated agenda item at the Human Rights Council? By what criteria are commissions and special mandates established? How are Special Rapporteurs and commission members selected? What due diligence is performed before their appointment, and who is accountable when credible questions about impartiality emerge? How does the UN vet humanitarian partners and information supplied by parties to an armed conflict? Most importantly, what reforms is the organization prepared to undertake, and on what timetable?

These are not rhetorical questions, and diplomatic generalities will not suffice.

Suspending participation should therefore have a clear purpose: transparent appointment procedures, meaningful conflict-of-interest checks, consistent criteria for establishing special mechanisms, independent scrutiny of humanitarian partners, and accountability when oversight fails.

Nor should Israel act alone. Together with its allies, it should advocate reform based not on special treatment for Israel, but on universal rules. The moral authority of international law depends precisely on its universality.

At the same time, Israel should invest more heavily in alternative forms of international cooperation.

The Abraham Accords have already demonstrated what direct relations built around shared interests can achieve in technology, medicine, energy, security, science, and trade.

Finland provides a timely example of another kind. Helsinki can criticize Israeli policies on specific issues while simultaneously maintaining and deepening practical security cooperation with Israel, including cooperation involving Israeli air-defense technology. There is no contradiction in this. Mature relations between states do not require political agreement on every issue. Countries can disagree, sometimes sharply, while continuing to cooperate where their interests converge.

This is particularly relevant at a time when Finnish President Alexander Stubb himself has spoken about the need for a more effective international system and for flexible coalitions of states capable of acting when traditional institutions are unable to do so.

That pragmatic approach deserves more attention.

International cooperation does not belong to the United Nations. Regional alliances, bilateral agreements, diplomatic missions and specialized international frameworks can complement multilateral institutions and, when those institutions fail, provide alternatives.

Israel should therefore not withdraw from the world. It should broaden its alliances while insisting that international institutions live by the principles they demand of others.

Israel has answered questions about its conduct for decades, and it must continue to answer legitimate ones. But after decades of exceptional institutional scrutiny, Israel is entitled to ask questions of the United Nations as well.

If the answers are convincing and followed by genuine reform, cooperation can be restored. If they are not, Israel should continue building other mechanisms for international engagement.

Israel is not refusing accountability. It is refusing to accept a system in which Israel is perpetually required to answer, while the institutions judging it consider themselves exempt from answering in return.

Dr. Michael Mirilashvili is the President of the Euro-Asian Jewish Congress