The Passenger Next Door |
Vayeshev, hostages, and the quiet human right to be ordinary again
(This week’s blog was written before the heart-breaking massacre in Australia).
A friend told me something last week that has not left me.
She boarded a routine flight, slipped into her seat, opened her book — and only then realised she recognised the man beside her.
Not from her neighbourhood.
Not from shul.
From the news.
He was one of the released hostages.
Not a global symbol.
Not one of the names spoken on stages or in rallies.
Just a young man travelling on a plane, trying to reach a destination.
They exchanged a few warm words — nothing intrusive, nothing performative — and then they flew together in silence, like two strangers with parallel lives.
But the encounter haunted her.
He was doing something utterly normal.
Yet his life, through no choice of his own, is no longer normal at all.
And that is where digital rehabilitation — the field I’ve spent years working in within criminology — suddenly felt painfully close to the emotional landscape of Israel today.
Because the internet does not distinguish between those who seek the spotlight
and those who desperately want their lives back.
The internet remembers too well
In criminal justice, we speak about digital rehabilitation:
the possibility — or impossibility — of reclaiming your future when the algorithm insists on dragging your past into every search result.
Today: A spent conviction remains on Google long after the law says it is irrelevant. A brief appearance in the media becomes a permanent biography. A relative’s tragedy becomes your metadata. A rumour becomes your algorithm. A moment of vulnerability becomes your identity.
Survivors of crime often discover their names live online long after their desire to be public has faded.
Victims of misinformation and sensational headlines lose control of their story.
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