The State of Palestine

France and the UK, and possibly Canada, are floating the idea of unilaterally recognizing a Palestinian state — and doing so in the midst of an active war, with an estimated 50 Israeli hostages still held in Gaza by Hamas. Let that sink in.

Recognition of statehood, once a hard-earned diplomatic milestone, is now being used as a bargaining chip — or worse, a threat — against Israel. What was once the culmination of internal organization, external negotiation, and international consensus is now being dangled to placate angry domestic constituencies and to pressure a sovereign nation into changing its military strategy.

The implications of this shift are not just dangerous — they are deeply destabilizing.

Statehood is not conjured by proclamation. A viable state needs internal political coherence, functioning institutions, defined borders, a monopoly on force, and economic sustainability. None of these conditions currently exist within the Palestinian territories. Gaza is still being ruled by Hamas after almost two years of war, and it remains a terror organization with genocidal aims. The West Bank is governed by a weak and increasingly irrelevant Palestinian Authority. The two are not only rivals — they are at war in all but name.

So yes, any Western recognition of “Palestine” now is purely symbolic. But symbols matter. They set precedents. They signal legitimacy. And in this case, they dangerously conflate mass terror with diplomatic reward.

An Israeli commentator recently suggested that this was Hamas’s fallback strategy all along: to provoke a war horrific enough to cast Israel as genocidal and force the international community to bestow Palestinian statehood — not through negotiation, but through revulsion. It’s a grim but plausible reading. The Palestinian version of the Jewish genocide giving birth to Israel. This is an historical  simplification. Israel was the result of almost a century of institutional groundwork by the Zionist movement: education, immigration, land acquisition, and the formation of parallel state structures under the British Mandate. The Holocaust catalyzed global sympathy, but the infrastructure of statehood was already in place.

What has Hamas built? What has the Palestinian leadership built? Where is the groundwork for peace, for governance, for coexistence?

If this moment feels historically jarring, it’s because it is. In past cases — Kosovo, South Sudan, even Taiwan — recognition followed a long, difficult process of internal preparation or internationally mediated negotiation. Sometimes recognition was withheld despite state readiness (Taiwan); sometimes it followed a peace process and referendum (South Sudan); and sometimes, as with Kosovo, it entrenched a frozen conflict that persists to this day.

But in none of these cases did recognition follow mass murder and hostage-taking — at least not with the open, barely concealed logic of appeasement we’re seeing now.

For 75 years, the postwar international system was built on a fragile but real consensus: disputes should be settled through diplomacy. Recognition was to be earned, not extorted. That framework is now cracking — not just because of Russia’s war in Ukraine or China’s threats toward Taiwan, but because Western democracies are turning their own values inside out.

If you reward terror with a flag and a seat at the table, you don't just abandon your ally. You abandon the principles that gave your diplomacy any meaning in the first place.

This is not diplomacy. It’s panic masquerading as policy. And we will all be paying for it for a very long time.

PS: Ethics and the State of Israel

Now that we have the state of Israel - we are judged by our ethics.

The pages of history are bloody with the acts of European society – especially in feudal times. Judaism is not better because we are better than them but because we never had to face the challenge. A private person cannot do the injustices that can be done by a state. What if our history had been different, with a Jewish state in the Middle ages? Would we have been just like the feudal law? I have no answer. To say how we would have acted is ridiculous.

Now that we have a Jewish state, will we act ethically? The State in itself is a contradiction to ethics. Will we refrain from injustices, or immoral practices?

The few experiences, so far, are not re-assuring. I don’t know. We are the master now. Will we act like masters? Will we acknowledge that Judaism does not recognize a morality of master and slave, powerful and powerless, victor and vanquished? This is my problem with the State of Israel.

If the state does not live up to our ethical values then the entire past 2000 years, the entirety of Jewish history will be reinterpreted in a different light. It will prove to the world that Jews are not better and only did not act wickedly because they did not have a chance.

- Rabbi Joseph Soloveichik, 1959

This is a postcript to my last post about supporting Israel. Coincidentally (are there any coincidences?) a friend sent me a link to a speech given by Rav Soloveichik, which he thought was of interest. I was a bit familiar with his work having read the book he is perhaps best known for, "The Lonely Man of Faith." I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that Soloveichik, heir to a dynastic line of great Torah scholars, was considered one of the greatest Talmud scholars and Jewish thinkers of the 20th century. He was also a strong supporter of the State of Israel, which is why I found the above quotation from a talk he gave in 1959 so interesting. I suppose that I shouldn't be surprised that a great thinker like Soloveichik would have concerns about the fledgling Jewish State. He believed that the exercise of power was diametrically the opposite of the ethical teaching and sacred mission of the Jew. Of course, he understood that having a country was necessary for the protection of Jews, but warned of its corrupting potential on the dignity and spirit of the individual. Undoubtedly he would have been completely opposed to the notion of religious parties in the Knesset like United Torah Judaism (Degel HaTorah, Agudath Yisroel). He might say that it represents the very perversion of Judaism that he feared most.  

Supporting Israel

What does it mean to support Israel in these fraught times? It’s a question many have been asking themselves recently, myself included.

The question of support for Israel has nothing to do with its “right to exist,” which I believe is a false framing. Anyone questioning Israel’s legitimacy must be prepared to question the legitimacy of every country — from Greece to Algeria, France to the United States. The fact that Israel is singled out reveals a bias. Some call that antisemitism. It could be. It could also be that Israel is simply a special case: its location, its religious significance, and the consensus manner the UN was involved in its founding, all contribute to Israel's scrutiny. But ultimately, a country's legitimacy comes from within not from without: shared values, shared culture, a shared economy, and a willingness to govern and defend territorial borders. Israel fought for its existence, and continues to do so. By that measure, Israel is as legitimate as any nation-state on the planet — whether others like it or not.

But now we have Gaza: reports of a new military offensive in central Gaza, more young IDF soldiers dying every week, and a worsening humanitarian crisis, with starvation tightening its grip on a helpless civilian population. In my mind, there is no question who is to blame for this war. It was precipitated and perpetuated by the actions of Hamas. Had the hostages been released months ago, none of this would be happening. Hamas gambled that a brutal attack on a vastly superior opponent would ignite a regional war. That was a gross strategic miscalculation. The slaughter of approximately 1,200 Israelis and foreign nationals, mostly civilians, was a short-term tactical victory that has turned into a catastrophe and tragedy of historic proportions. Hamas has been reduced from a governing entity with a quasi-fighting force to a fanatical martyrdom cult. Their secondary objective — religious salvation through self-destruction — is being realized at horrific cost to the population it claims to represent and protect. They are reaping everything they have sown.

While Hamas may be getting what it wishes for, it is Israel delivering the destruction — and that is undeniably problematic on several levels. Hamas has taken the approach that if they are going down, they’ll take as many with them as possible — Palestinians physically, and Israelis morally and politically. It's also hell bent on taking down the entire rules based international order and the UN system of assistance. For that they should be broadly and fiercely condemned. 

But condemnation of Hamas does not excuse Israel from its responsibilities. The question I’ve been asking myself isn’t whether I support Israel, but what exactly I’m supporting when I do. And lately, it's not very clear, because I’m not sure what Israel is standing for in this historical moment with recent actions. And whatever it is, I fear for the long-term consequences.

It’s not just about Netanyahu's personal political interests, or his far-right coalition. We can support a country and still criticize its leaders. But Israel’s problems run deeper than any one administration. One major concern is the increasingly prominent role that religion plays in political decision-making. Israel was never intended to be a theocracy. Of the 37 signatories to the Declaration of Independence, only four were rabbis. The word “God” is studiously avoided in the document — there’s only an oblique reference to the “Rock of Israel” at the end — unlike the United States Declaration, which mentions God in the very first paragraph.

Israel is undeniably a Jewish country, in the same way that the United States or Canada is a Christian country and Morocco is a muslim country. But Israel was not founded in messianic terms. These days, a form of messianism appears to be motivating many of those in power. In that sense, Israel is beginning to resemble its greatest enemy, Iran — a theocracy animated by religious absolutism.

I’m not naïve. Israel is encircled by threat and cannot afford to let its guard down. That’s part of why October 7th happened in the first place - it let its guard down, tragically so. I’ve long believed that Israel’s internal weaknesses pose a greater threat to its long-term survival than any external enemy. And the current war, in some ways, proves the point. The most lasting damage has not come from rockets — but from headlines.

Israel is taking a huge international hit over Gaza, and a domestic reckoning is underway.

Take the ultra-Orthodox leadership’s recent threat to leave the country, claiming the government no longer supports them. The controversy revolves around long-standing exemptions from military service for religious students. Since the state’s founding, the ultra-Orthodox - who now make up around 13% of the population and growing - have enjoyed privileged status. In recent years, this has bred resentment among secular and modern Orthodox Israelis. Many would not mourn their departure. The idea that the most religious Jews might feel unable to live in the world’s only Jewish state is deeply ironic. But this controversy points to a broader truth: the ultra-Orthodox have become too politically influential, and the imbalance is destabilizing.

Meanwhile, secular and modern Orthodox Israelis — the ones actually fighting and dying — are increasingly disillusioned. The exodus of secular Israelis is real. According to Haaretz, more than 60,000 Israelis left the country last year — double the number from the previous year. Initially, after October 7th, many returned to defend the country. But as the war drags on, the trend has reversed. Young, educated Israelis who are the economic engine of the nation, are asking the same question I am, with much more at stake: What exactly are we fighting and dying for? Israel’s troubling internal fractures — social, religious, economic, political — are widening.

I don’t know if the Israeli government is pursuing a policy of ethnic cleansing in Gaza. But I do know that some of the most radical members of the governing coalition have publicly expressed support for such ideas. That alone should trouble anyone who cares about Israel. If the nation of Israel was meant to stand for anything, it was to be a “light unto the nations” — Ohr l’Goyim. That phrase, from the prophet Isaiah, lies at the heart of Israel’s moral mission. The light it refers to is not military might, it’s moral clarity. Yes, part of being a light means defeating barbarity and terror. But it also means doing so according to a higher moral code, and to be seen that it is acting accordingly. In an age of disinformation, that’s a heavy lift, but that does not absolve Israel from trying. And lately, it seems to have given up.

To support Israel, must mean supporting efforts and policies that promote unity, while opposing those that deepen division. This is what makes Netanyahu and his brand of politics so destructive. It’s what makes ultra-Orthodox political parties so toxic to the country’s long-term health. This moment is not completely without precedent. In 975 BCE, after the death of King Solomon, the Kingdom of Israel split into two: the Northern Kingdom (Israel) and the Southern Kingdom (Judah) centered in Jerusalem. It's possible to analogize the Northern Kingdom to a modern, more open nation, and the Southern Kingdom to a more radical religious nation. Centuries ago, the division weakened the Jews as a whole, leaving it vulnerable to conquest. This period culminated in the ultimate political and spiritual catastrophe for the nation; subjugation, destruction and expulsion.  

Support for Israel cannot mean blind allegiance. On the contrary, it must mean open eyes and engagement — passionate, uncomfortable, sustained engagement. We must insist that Israel be not only strong, but just. That it survive not only as a state, but as an idea, and a moral and spiritual aspiration worth fighting for.

The Refinement of Feeling

We are feeling creatures. Actually, we are cauldrons of feeling. Our feelings can be stoked over a hot flame and brought to a boil, or they can be cooled and calmed. Our emotional cauldron can be stirred, seasoned like a recipe—and made into something that nourishes.

We use the word 'feel' as a euphemism for 'think' and our feelings almost always take precedence over our thoughts. The purpose of thought is often to explain, justify, or rationalize how we feel.

Plato didn’t imagine people as cauldrons. He imagined a charioteer trying to control two horses: one wild and unruly, representing our desires and passions, and the other trained and disciplined, representing our reason. He believed that these two forces are always in tension, pulling in different directions, and that the job of the charioteer—our conscious will—is to hold the reins and steer toward virtue.

I think Plato was optimistic. Most of the time, only one horse is steering the human chariot: the wild, passionate, undisciplined one. Reason is often just a passive passenger, taken along for the ride.

But Plato was right in seeing that life is a balancing act between reason and passion. 

In school, we learn the tools of logic, reasoning, and critical thought through reading, writing, and mathematics. These sharpen the intellect. But more important, in terms of shaping our young, developing character, is the refinement of feeling. And this is done through the arts. We are taught about art, how to appreciate it, and how to create it. While mathematics aims at arriving at definitive, logical solutions, the arts exist in the space where skill meets emotion. Art involves craft, and craft has rules. Music is mathematical, writing has structure, painting follows form and technique. But the purpose of this structure is to produce something that moves us—to stir our emotional cauldron with intention and care.

The aim of all true art is the refinement of feeling. The more we experience art, whether as consumers or creators, the more our emotional life is shaped, deepened, and matured. Only art can do this.

There are of course art forms that do not refine the emotions, just as there are foods that do not nourish the body. This is “junk art” designed to momentarily satisfy a craving, but without any beneficial lasting impact. Junk food is to food, as junk art is to art: Product to be consumed and discarded. 

My definition of art is that it must aim to satisfy as well as be emotionally nutritious.

Which begs the question: What happens when people live in a culture that promotes product over art? A culture that feeds its people with junk—cheap, empty, mass-produced—and starves them of emotional nourishment?

The answer: They grow unwell.

Just as junk food undermines physical health, junk art erodes emotional health. If great art helps us balance our passions with our reason, then the constant consumption of shallow, manipulative media throws that balance off. Emotion, untethered from thought, becomes the dominant force. It becomes the standard by which everything is judged—truth, value, meaning, even morality.

This is where we find ourselves today. And it goes beyond the processed food industry, the throwaway fashion trends, and consumer goods built to break. The more insidious damage lies in what we’ve chosen to devalue: the defunding of school music programs, the lack of literacy, the sidelining of art education. These aren’t just cuts to budgets; they’re cuts to the cultural soul.

If we want to live in a healthy society—emotionally, spiritually, and intellectually—we must reclaim the value of art as emotional nourishment. That means elevating it above entertainment, beyond commerce, and seeing it instead as a vital form of education. Art teaches us how to feel well, not just feel more. It trains the wild horse and empowers the charioteer. Without it, we risk becoming a culture of appetites with no direction—a cauldron left to boil over.

Brandy

I was hired

some years ago

(with a little help

from family)

for a job

I never wanted

or imagined.

As it turned out,

I could stomach

the work — despite

the sociopath boss

with a gift

for making money

and hating people.

My co-workers

were usually kind,

we seemed to be

on the same page —

you know,

because

of the sociopath

at the top.

I never got

nauseous

on my morning drive

to work.

Listened to the radio,

and when a song came on

that I liked —

one that brought me back —

like Brandy

"You're a fine girl

what a good wife

you would be..."

I'd sing along

in my car, alone

full-voiced:

"But my life, my love,
and my lady
is the sea..."

and consider

myself

lucky.

Trump and the Personalization of Politics

I’ve spent a lot of time focusing on the negative impacts of trump and his brand of politics—the damage he’s doing to institutions, the rule of law, and international relations. The degradation of values and civic discourse he represents. The way he peddles lies, conspiracy, and disinformation for personal gain. His depravity, immorality, and corruption.

But what I haven’t done is try to grasp the larger forces shaping this era of politics—the forces that paved the way for a politician as unthinkable as trump. Most importantly, I haven’t fully explored why trump was seen by so many as a legitimate response to the reality they felt they were experiencing. And no, it’s not because they’re all dumb, immoral, or uneducated.

Data Point #1: Trump was the only candidate in the 2015 Republican primary who positioned himself as explicitly anti-globalist and anti-establishment. In terms of substance—such as it was—this defined his identity and distinguished him from the rest of the field. His political appeal and eventual ascendency were rooted in a populist backlash to globalization and establishment politics.

Data Point #2: Trump’s style defined his campaign more than any coherent policy. His anti-establishment persona became a prop for his personalized style of politics. What most appealed to his supporters was how he personalized everything—especially his attacks which were usually personal insults. This threw his opponents off-balance—it was the exact opposite of the decorum they were used to. Personal attacks were supposed to be off-limits, beneath politicians. But trump didn’t play by those rules. He branded himself a “non-politician.”

This style of personalized politics meshed with his anti-establishment rhetoric. It resonated with people who felt that the institutions to which they had long given their allegiance had failed them. “The system is rigged,” trump repeated—a message that rang true to many. For decades, the rich had gotten richer, the poor poorer, and the whole system seemed designed to benefit the few while disadvantaging the many. “The Deep State” and “The Swamp” were slogans that functioned as calls for individual citizens to reclaim political power.

To trump’s most devoted supporters, he represents “people power.” He’s less their champion than their avatar. An embodiment of their sense of being victimized. They know he’s not like them—he’s wealthy and privileged—but it’s how he attacks and acts out that they identify with. They revel in his irreverence, anger, cruelty, impunity, and indecency. Being associated with someone like that makes them feel strong.

This strain of maverick individualism and distrust of authority is nothing new in American culture. It runs deep. The so-called frontier mentality is celebrated in stories, films, and music. The cowboy who tames the West. The rogue cop who bends the law to get justice. The lone hero who stands outside the system.

Data Point #3: The personalization of politics is fed by social media. I don’t think trump’s political rise would have been possible without it. It’s not just that algorithms stoke anger, conspiracy, and disinformation—though they do—but that social media in general promotes a culture of personalization and atomization. It erases the line between private and public, making every issue feel individual and emotional. The modesty that once defined public life—and used to be a civic norm among politicians—is gone. Trump’s impulsive, reckless style thrived in this environment. He seems more in tune with the times than traditional politicians. His use of social media bridged the emotional gap between politician and supporter in a way that felt unprecedented.

Data Point #4: Trump’s affinity for Putin. Sure, on a psychological level, trump is in awe of Putin’s immense wealth and power. But there are deeper parallels. In some ways, Putin’s rise was shaped by dynamics similar to those that brought trump to power. Putin emerged from the collapse of the Soviet empire—a superpower that, in its final phase, limped feebly toward market-based capitalism but failed to complete the transition. The call for "perestroika' (political restructuring) reflected a deep desire among Soviet citizens to escape decades of subservience, to reassert individual identity after being subordinated to a collapsing imperial project. Putin rose out of the chaos that followed.

While the American-led globalist project was far more successful than the Soviet one, it, too, came to be seen as insufficient. After decades of economic stagnation, many Americans felt their aspirations had been ignored or denied. The Cold War was over—America had “won”—so why were so many struggling? The liberal international order no longer seemed to serve them. The time had come to focus inward. This sentiment seeded the ground for trump’s isolationist, anti-globalist message, and  personalized political style.

Trump’s rise didn’t happen in a vacuum, nor can it be dismissed as a fluke or anomaly. He is a product of systemic failures—economic, political, cultural—and his success reveals just how deep the cracks in the American democratic experiment have grown. By channeling resentment, personalizing politics, and exploiting the emotional logic of social media, he became the symbol of a revolt not just against elites, but against the very idea of shared reality and civic restraint. To confront what trump represents, we need to reckon with the conditions that made him possible: a disillusioned public, hollowed-out institutions, and a cultural appetite for spectacle over substance. Until those forces are addressed, trump—or someone like him, but more competent and potent—will always be waiting in the wings.

No Longer

Government that no longer governs.

Leaders who no longer lead.

Politicians who no longer make policy.

Representatives who no longer represent.

Legislators who no longer legislate.

Laws that no longer make sense.

Courts that no longer adjudicate.

Judges who no longer impartially judge.

Police who no longer protect.

Borders that no longer secure.

Institutions that no longer serve.

Universities that no longer educate.

Professors who no longer teach.

Advisors who no longer have expertise.

Doctors who no longer heal.

Media that no longer reports.

Churchgoers who no longer worship.

Clergy who no longer believe.

Companies that no longer make product.

Jobs that no longer provide a living.

Artists who no longer create.

Families who no longer raise children.

Citizens who no longer vote.

People who no longer care.