My childhood bedroom window looked out on… I was born in Tunisia, but when I was five, we moved to a small coastal town in Quebec, Canada, called Gaspé. It has a population of 12,000 and the nearest bigger town is almost 400 kilometres away. My mother is a psychiatrist and was granted a work permit in Canada on the condition that we lived in a rural area. We were surrounded by nature and snow – quite a change from Tunisia’s warm climate. I spent hours playing in the woods around our house, where a friend and I built a cabin. I could just about see it from my bedroom window.
"If people are going to be racist, I’d rather know from the start"
I was named after… I have two first names, Alexandre and Skander – the French and Arabic versions of Alexander. My mother is Tunisian and my father was Belgian. They knew we’d leave Tunisia one day and were worried I’d face more racism with an Arabic name. At school I went by Alexandre, but I later chose to use Skander. If people are going to be racist, I’d rather know from the start. When we moved to Canada, we were the first immigrants Gaspé had ever seen. Our arrival even made the local newspaper. A lot of people were curious and came over to chat with us, but not everyone was welcoming. One day, a friend came up to me and told me his parents had said he couldn’t play with me anymore. They’d found out – I myself look fairly white – that my mother wasn’t “like them”. I never saw him again.
The best advice I ever received… came from my mentor during my post-doc at Koç University in Istanbul. She taught me to always try. I had lots of ideas but was afraid to pursue them because I thought they were too ambitious. She told me, “Be creative – just try it and see where it takes you.”
"As a teenager, I used to sneak out at night"
My partner can’t stand it when I… burp at the table. I think it’s natural and perfectly acceptable; she hates it.
Always in my carry-on: my e-reader, even though I rarely get round to reading. I love historical fiction, especially with a bit of mystery woven in. If I had to name one author, it’d be Yasmina Khadra – the pen name of Algerian writer and former military commander Mohammed Moulessehoul. He’s brilliant at describing social tensions, particularly in his novels about the Algerian Civil War, and his writing is deeply empathetic.
Is there anything you’ve done that you wouldn’t let your children do? As a teenager, I used to sneak out at night, climbing out of my bedroom window and jumping from the second floor into the garden. My father knew but never said anything. I don’t think I could be that hands-off. I’d tell them they can stay out later if they want, just as long as they use the front door.
"How can international courts sometimes have such different views?"
I’ve always had a strong sense of justice. Yes. I may have broken the rules when I was a rebellious teenager, but I always had a strong moral compass. And I understood that the law isn’t always fair. Several of my mother’s relatives were arrested and imprisoned in Tunisia for their beliefs. One of our very close family friends was even tortured. Except for some years after the revolution in 2011, Tunisia has never truly had freedom of speech. Whenever we went to visit in the summer, my parents would urgently remind me not to talk about certain topics in public. I think that’s what pushed me towards studying law.
I’m fascinated by... how international courts approach major social issues, attempt to address them – sometimes belatedly – and how much their views can differ. Take the war in former Yugoslavia. One court said it was an internal conflict; another said it was a conflict between Bosnia-Herzegovina and Serbia. How can that be? I studied law in Canada and worked as a lawyer for a while, dealing with everything from neighbour disputes to contract issues. I enjoyed the contact with clients, but the cases themselves bored me – they were too simple. So I went to Europe, to the United Nations Interregional Crime and Justice Research Institute, and began specialising in international law, specifically international criminal law and laws of war.
"My mother, sister and I are a tightly knit unit"
I call my mother… I try to call her every three days, but since she still lives in Canada and the best time to reach her is around 2 p.m. here, I end a lot of our calls with, “I’ve got a meeting – I’ll call you back.” My father died of cancer when I was 21. Our family was always close, but my mother, sister and I have been a tightly knit unit ever since, even though we’re separated by distance. My sister moved back to Tunisia. We text every morning.
My little joy in life is… being at the beach, seeing the sea. The moment I feel sand beneath my toes, I’m happy.
In ten years… I’ll still be working in academia and at an international legal institution, as a lawyer or a judge. Where I’ll be living is a trickier question. My partner works at the University of Zurich and commutes between the Netherlands and Switzerland, which is very tough. She’d like us to move to Switzerland, but I’m not sure I can see myself living there. I’m quite happy in the Netherlands. Back to Tunisia? No, my lifestyle is far too liberal. I’d have to be a different person in public than I am at home – and it would be even harder for my partner, being a woman. I don’t want that.