Based on the synopsis, I was immediately drawn to this memoir. I didn’t know much about Amnesty International previously, so I was excited to learn more about the work they do.

I liked reading about the author’s decade+ of leading Amnesty International’s US office, and my heart was broken while reading about some of the tragic situations he witnessed during his time traveling the world.

Overall, this was a good memoir - I think it was a bit long, though.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for my complimentary copy!

William Schulz headed Amnesty International from 1994 – 2006 and describes crises he had to handle during his time – killings in Rwanda, Bosnia & Sudan and the aftermath of 9/11. There are passages which are very thought provoking, though the book suffers from a severe self-congratulatory tone.

The initial sections are very well written indicating the role organizations such as Amnesty International (AI) play. They are not constrained by local laws, cultural practices, political affiliations or other considerations and take up issues based on universally accepted human rights practices (at least that is the guiding principle). The genocide in Rwanda when somewhere around 800,000 people of the Tutsi tribe were killed by Hutu militias happened very soon after Schulz took charge. There was no international intervention, as the US and other countries felt there was no national interest in committing resources to this. Schulz points out this myopic view hurt the world as a whole. People in the US administration confided that they would have considered acting had there been public pressure – and there was none. In short – the political leadership would have acted had there been people on the streets. Schulz contrasts this with Bosnia where the US and its western allies promptly swung into action.

The events which followed 9/11 receive a lot of coverage, especially the now notorious practices in Guantanamo Bay. Schulz points out that George W Bush as President more or less set the tune for what happened (and actually provided a baseline for what was to follow in the Trump regime), with Donald Rumsfeld providing the operational direction. The detainees were classified as “Unlawful Combatants” to avoid them getting rights in civil courts or as prisoners of war (Geneva Convention guidelines would have applied). The controversy around Secretary General Irene Khan’s description of the facility as “the gulag of our times” is covered in detail, including his own impressions. There are brief references to other areas of concern for Amnesty – human rights violations in China, Russia, Middle East, and local prisoners. He makes a point on how law enforcement exudes an image of an angry and hostile force, rather than being understanding and seeking to serve the community. Allowing anger to get out of hand as retributory violence is not a sensible human rights response. There is a touching narration of the parents one of the victims of the Oklahoma Bombings who met Timothy’s McVeigh’s parents. There is also a reference to a dinner meeting where Benazir Bhutto implored him to find a way to declare her husband Asif Zardari (jailed for corruption) as a “Prisoner of Conscience” (people who are victimized for who they are; based on some kind of prejudice).

The main weakness of the book is the pompous tone and inability to address the issues raised about the organization. There is an attempt at some pretended modesty by saying “I probably made some mistakes during my tenure”, but discussing none in any detail. Most biographies suffer from this. This book has a lot of content which provides food for thought but the impact is lost due to its pretentious tone. Of course, as Schulz says, Amnesty and organizations such as these do deserve credit for keeping governments in check and bringing attention to many vital issues.

This memoir of a high-profile career with a high-profile nonprofit organization is naturally rich in history and celebrity gossip. Amnesty International both defended and built celebrities. William F. Schulz begins with a memory of being patronized by an adorably arrogant Lauren Bacall at a party, confesses that he enjoyed fundraising, reviews the history of Amnesty International, and devotes a long impassioned chapter to his opposition to the death penalty.

As a Unitarian Universalist minister, he persists in trying not only to love all people but to like and work with all people. He seems unaware of the tragic result: Heeding the influence of members of the organization who he admits are abnormally hostile, he publicizes things that reduce the United States' popularity in other AI countries and reduce AI's popularity in the United States. Then for a denouement he's diagnosed with a slowly progressing but fatal disease.

So this is a tragic history, but a well written one, with historic, nostalgic, and cautionary value. Whatever one may think of his religious or political views, Schulz is heroically honest.