Has Israel Gone Too Far?

A debate I’ve been having recently with friends and family centers around a question that feels increasingly urgent: Has Israel gone too far?

Of course, the difficult part is defining what “too far” means. We all support Israel’s right—indeed, its necessity—to defend itself. But at what point does legitimate self-defense cross into unjustifiable cruelty?

I want to add my small, unimportant voice to the growing chorus of more prominent ones, including most recently Ehud Olmert. Yes, he’s a long-time political rival of Netanyahu and an opponent of the current government—his words should be weighed accordingly. But hearing a former Israeli Prime Minister publicly suggest that Israel may be committing war crimes is jarring. I never imagined I’d hear those words from someone who once held that office.

For me, the unease began when Israel started blocking food aid from entering Gaza. I’m uncomfortable for two reasons. First, the act of stopping food trucks—especially in a war zone—has always been, in my mind, beyond the pale. It invites a humanitarian disaster. If Israel controls what enters and exits Gaza—and it does—then Israel bears responsibility. The images of Gaza reduced to rubble and of vast tent camps are tragic, but can be argued as the grim byproduct of Hamas’s strategy of embedding within civilian areas. But starving a population is a different matter. And I knew the inevitable images of malnourished children would not only be heartbreaking—they would undermine Israel’s claim to moral legitimacy.

The claim that Hamas steals the food is, to me, a deflection. That’s not the point. Whether trucks are allowed in is the point. If allowing aid means some of it is misappropriated by Hamas, that is a tragic but tolerable cost—far less morally corrosive than the alternative of collective starvation. It doesn't change the military calculus. But it does change the moral one.

Second, I’m unsettled by how many Israel supporters—again, people I know and love—are willing to justify nearly any action in the name of self-defense. Withholding food does nothing meaningful to weaken Hamas. Yet too many have chosen to shelve their morality in favor of political allegiance. I started seeing this trend when trump floated his abhorrent 'proposal' to 'develop' Gaza into a playground for the rich. I called it what it was: ethnic cleansing. I was shocked at how many people didn’t just dismiss it outright. It reminded me of other, darker times in history when seemingly decent people found ways to rationalize monstrous acts in pursuit of political ends.

Back then, Jews were the victims. Now, it feels as though the shoe is on the other foot.

When someone like Olmert—or former IDF general and politician Yair Golan—publicly voices serious accusations against the Israeli government, their motives may be political. That doesn’t mean their concerns are invalid. I’ve never believed Israel’s greatest threat came from Hamas, Islamic Jihad, the Houthis, or even Iran. Israel has the military and intelligence capabilities to defend itself against these threats. I’ve long believed that the tragedy of October 7th was less a surprise and more the result of colossal government failure. I wouldn’t say it was self-inflicted, but Hamas walked through a door that Israel’s negligent leadership left wide open.

The threat I fear most comes from within.

Israel, like the U.S., is in the midst of a prolonged internal crisis. I trace its roots back to November 4, 1995, when Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated by a religious extremist. That act of political violence marked the beginning of Israel’s rightward drift and the increasing power of religious parties. Since then, an alliance between the secular right and the religious bloc has grown stronger, more entrenched, and more extreme.

The greatest danger facing Israel today is political Messianism.

Messianism is the ideological belief in a divinely sanctioned destiny, immune to compromise and fueled by absolute moral certainty. Nazism was a form of Messianism—rooted in mythologies of racial purity. So is jihadism, which cloaks political violence in the language of divine justice. I say this with a heavy heart, but I fear a growing number of Jews—both in Israel and in the diaspora—are falling under a similar spell.

Too many no longer speak of co-existence. Instead, they speak of conquest; annexing Judea and Samaria, expelling Palestinians, and turning Gaza into a buffer zone or a ghost town. The current “plan” for Gaza, such as it is, seems aligned with this dangerous thinking.

Not all Jews believe this, of course. Many—like myself—are heartbroken. We believe in Israel, love Israel, and want nothing more than to see it live in peace and dignity among its neighbors. But the soul of our homeland is being torn apart. If we don’t speak up now, we may soon find that there’s nothing left to defend—except the memory of what Israel once aspired to be.

The Broken

I've been labeled a trump-hater. My response is always the same: I don't hate trump. He's a fool, a clown, a lowlife, a child, a scam artist—he is what he is. You can't blame trump for being psychologically and morally damaged. I don't hold him responsible for his nature. I blame the people who choose to elevate and support such an obviously damaged person. If there is one truism in politics, it's that we get the leaders we deserve. The leaders we elevate tell us far less about them and everything about us. And the picture this paints is ugly.

Well, not here in Canada, not so much anyhow. With our recent choice of leader—a smart, highly educated, accomplished, competent, and decent person—we seem to be in relatively good shape. Justin Trudeau, for all his vacuousness and inexperience early on, always seemed to have his heart in the right place. That counts for something.

Trump is a profoundly self-centered, hollow, malignant, uncaring, vengeful, and broken individual. He is not an aberration; he is an avatar—a projection of the people who support him. And that, more than trump himself, is what should alarm us. He is not Hitler. He is not a fascist ideologue. He is something more banal and insidious: A self-enriching, historically ignorant, narcissistic commercial brand masquerading as a political movement.

Still, the comparison between America in the early 21st century and Germany in the early 20th century is not entirely misplaced. As in Weimar Germany, trump's rise reflects a society disoriented by loss, humiliation, and rapid change. Hitler rose from the ashes of defeat espousing a mythic vision of national rebirth. Trump, in his own way, invokes a mythical past, blames foreigners and "elites" for decline, and presents himself as the only saviour. The difference is that Hitler was an ideologue, he believed in something greater than himself —something horrifying, yes, but coherent. Trump believes only in himself and leverages the national symbols for the purposes of self-aggrandizement and enrichment.

The deeper issue is this: broken people choose broken, destructive leaders. By "broken," I mean people who are hopeless, alienated, detached from meaning and community. People who feel victimized and unseen. Such people are drawn to lies that comfort and communities that offer rigid belonging. Broken people are prime targets for cults, conspiracies, and authoritarianism. In this context the analogy of  Germany is appropriate.  

The brokenness that we see in politics has its roots in the fragmentation of the social fabric that began decades ago, during the 1960s—a decade of enormous social upheaval in the U.S. The Vietnam War, political assassinations, the rise of feminism, the questioning of traditional authority, family dissolution, the decline of organized religion and civic groups—all of it contributed to a kind of cultural splintering. That process has strenghthened and accelerated in recent decades with the rise of algorithmically-driven social media. Put plainly, the social forces that are pulling us apart, especially with the new individualized technologies, have become vastly stronger than the ones promoting unity and cohesion. Trump exemplifies the political expression of this fragmentation reaching the mainstream. 

Again, Trump is not Hitler. But that doesn’t make him harmless. He damages institutions, corrodes trust, and fosters extremism. The real danger isn’t just him, but what he represents: a profound disintegration of shared values and disenchantment with civic life. This problem doesn’t have a quick fix. It can’t be solved with a better candidate or a sharper debate performance. It can't be repaired by policy choices. That's why we have seen the Democrats struggle to find a voice. It's why the media has struggled so haplessly to cover the new discourse. Conventional politics doesn't address the basic problem. This is a cultural and psychological crisis as much as a political one.

The path toward restoring a political discourse of common sense and decency needs to engender rebuilding trust, community, and common purpose. That will take time, imagination, and institutions willing to evolve. Trump is a symptom, not a cause. The illness is a fragmented, disillusioned society. We may be distracted by the clown show for a while - who doesn't love a circus? But eventually the circus leaves town and we'll have to clean up the mess. There will be a reckoning.  

Mr. Klein

CLICK HERE TO HEAR THE SONG

I knew a man named Mr. Klein,

Though I wouldn’t call him a friend of mine.

The way he looked he seemed quite kind,

Asked how he was, he'd mutter, "Just fine."

He was medium height and overweight,

Wore a jacket and tie that looked out of date.

If he had something to say he'd hesitate,

Like a man who appeared resigned to his fate. 

Mr. Klein, Mr. Klein, sing me a song,

About times you remember and all you've known. 

Mr. Klein, Mr. Klein, recite me a poem,

About the people that you loved long ago. 

Mr Klein to me seemed sort of sad,

I'd see him in the park with a paper bag.

Feeding the squirrels then cleaning his hand,

Trying to decipher the graffiti tags.

They say he was a lawyer, and a teacher too,

Had travelled from Jerusalem to Katmandu.

Wrote sonnets, villanelles and even haiku,

But couldn't understand why all the tattoos.

Mr. Klein, Mr. Klein, sing me a song,

About times you remember and all that you've known. 

Mr. Klein, Mr. Klein, write me a poem,

About the people that you loved a long time ago. 

And then one day Mr. Klein wasn't seen,

No one asked about where he'd been.

How he was feeling, or why he left the scene,

Almost like he existed inside a screen.

I searched for him, he was on my mind,

Wondered why I didn't give him more of my time.

When I had the chance and I was in my prime,

I keep thinking about everyone he left behind.

Mr. Klein, Mr. Klein, sing me a song,

About times you remember and all that you've known, 

Mr. Klein, Mr. Klein, recite me a poem,

About the people that you loved a long time ago. 

Bloodhound For Your Love

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You say I look defeated,

But I'm a stubborn breed.

Dogged as a hound,

An animal of need.

My vision may be fading,

But my nose always knows.

Who you've been with,

How your story goes.

You’ve never had a lover

As passionate as me.

You’re a hard, hard woman—

You had to learn to be.

With all the weight you’re dragging,

The trauma and abuse,

You know I’d stand beside you,

And help to cut it loose.

I'm a bloodhound for your love, baby,

You know that I won't stop.

I'm a bloodhound for your love,

You know I can't give up.

You know I'm gonna find you,

You're always leaving clues.

I'm a bloodhound for your love,

And everything you do.

It don’t make no sense,

Don’t tell me that we’re through.

Your scent lives in my bones,

Like purple made with blue.

I know you want to run,

When things start getting real.

That feeling of distrust, 

Is your heart trying not to feel.

Some ties are invisible,

We all have our leash.

Some kind need their loyalty,

Some kind need release.

I'm vowing to protect you,

And you can call me blind.

Chasing after someone, 

Who never will be mine.

The Bullshitting President

Trump is different from all of his predecessors in uncountable (bad) ways. But perhaps the most consequential difference is how much he talks—publicly, constantly, and often incoherently. He holds press conferences, interviews, and impromptu gaggles with staggering frequency. According to Martha Joynt Kumar of the White House Transition Project, during his first 100 days in office, Trump held 129 press interactions, averaging nearly two per workday—far exceeding his six predecessors.

I use the word "talk" deliberately. What trump does is not "speaking" in the traditional sense. Speaking implies intent, coherence, and communication—a desire to convey ideas with clarity and purpose. What trump does is chatter. It is not communication; it is noise. And it should be taken as seriously as gossip—except that it comes from the most powerful office on the planet, which makes it dangerous.

This talking has two major effects. First, it captures media attention, which is trump’s primary objective. As long as he dominates the news cycle, he believes he is winning—and in a way, he’s right. The media, unable to ignore a sitting president, amplifies every word. And in doing so, they often assign meaning to his nonsense, creating the illusion of intentionality. The infamous phrase "take him seriously, not literally" is a symptom of this problem. It’s a baffling dodge, one that implicitly concedes that his words lack clarity, yet still insists they carry weight.

Second, trump’s barrage of words overwhelms the public—what strategist Steve Bannon once described as “flooding the zone with shit.” This torrent of contradiction and confusion offers plausible deniability. One moment, he says something outrageous; the next, he denies it or blames the “fake news.” The sheer volume numbs the audience. Supporters cherry-pick what they want to hear; everyone else starts to tune out entirely.

All of this leads to a central question: What can be done about a President who bullshits so much?

First, we must name it. As philosopher Harry Frankfurt wrote in his essay "On Bullshit," the bullshitter isn’t concerned with truth or lies—only with what the moment demands. Trump doesn’t lie in the traditional sense (only sometimes); he speaks without regard for truth at all. That distinction matters. We must stop treating his utterances as misstatements or spin. Call it what it is: bullshit.

Second, stop translating nonsense into policy. Too often, media analysts and pundits try to make sense of trump's verbal detritus. They turn stray comments into headlines, parse incoherent rants as if they reflect serious policy. Instead, the media should contextualize the incoherence. Shift the burden of clarity back to the speaker.

Third, the media must resist the spectacle. That means less live coverage, more filtered reporting. Fact-checking should follow, not accompany, the noise. And coverage should be proportional—just because the president speaks doesn't mean it's newsworthy.

Trump’s talking style is not a sideshow; it is the show. It is central to how he maintains power. Understanding that is the first step toward neutralizing its corrosive effects.

And because I never felt important enough

And because I never felt important enough

To my parents,

Or to my friends,

Or to my lovers,

Or to my spouse,

Or to my children,

Or to my customers and followers,

Let me feel important enough

O Lord

To you. 

Give It All Away

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I think I fell in love last night—

Don’t even know her name.

But what they say about it's true:

I’ll never be the same.

A bomb was dropped, the sirens blared,

The army never came.

The streets are ash, the children scream—

They’ll never be the same.

I heard my sister died last night,

I saw her yesterday.

She read her feed then took a pill,

And slowly slipped away.

A bill came in the mail last night,

I swore I wouldn't pay.

I’m running from my broken brain,

And debts I can't repay.

Give it all away,

Give it all away.

Every time they make you bleed.

Give it all away,

Give it all away.

Every time they feed your need.

I haven’t slept at all tonight—

Only me to blame.

I feel my body filling up,

Then leaking out again.

My heart is pounding with the noise,

Of headlines, grief, and fame.

And part of me will not believe,

It's all a stupid game.

When you love, you don't count your losses,

Don't name your every pain.

Hold her close—but not too close—

And give it all away.

They lied to you, they’re lying still.

Don’t listen when they say,

That all of this is all there is,

Just give it all away.

Habemus Papam

I'll admit to getting caught up in all the excitement. Watching the news hour by hour for the white smoke to appear out of that wooden cabin-looking tin pipe atop the Sistine Chapel. It probably has something to do with the fact that I've been sick in bed for the past six days. But good TV is good TV, and what a showstopper at the end: the election of an American pontiff.

That seemed to come out of nowhere. Another first in our lifetime. I put it up there with the election of an African-American as President of the United States, which I never thought I'd see—well ahead of the election of the first convicted felon as President. You always imagine the occupant of the Vatican as someone who represents the Old World, not the New. Someone European, or—like the Argentinian Francis—someone who grew up speaking a European language and belonged to a soccer club. You don’t expect a man who spoke in Midwestern slang, rode the "L" train, listened to Studs Terkel on the radio, and cheered for the White Sox.

It’s hard not to juxtapose the two American world figures in your mind: Leo XIV, who spent his career working with the poor of Peru and now leads over a billion Catholics, and the narcissistic felon in the Oval Office who leads MAGA. Could the contrast be any greater? I dearly hope Leo understands how powerful that contrast can be if it's properly and strategically exploited.

It’s happened before—a pope leveraging his position on the world stage to effect meaningful global change. Popes who played it safe in the face of political turmoil have not fared well in history. For example, Pius XII, who was pope during World War II, has been witheringly criticized for his failure to confront the Holocaust with force or clarity. But others understood their historical moment. Pope John Paul II, for instance, was not only one of the most beloved figures of his era, but also an active political force: a voice against South African Apartheid, and an instrumental figure in the downfall of Communism in Eastern Europe.

Leo XIV is inheriting a world in duress—politically, economically, environmentally, and spiritually. I hope he understands the weight of that inheritance. We should begin to see his vision take shape soon, as he begins to plan visits to his global flock. A return visit to his home country should be high on the list. A papal visit to the United States—especially under its current political leadership—could prove more than symbolic. It could be catalytic. The attention, the crowds, the stark contrast in values—it would drive Trump mad.

We live in an age when moral clarity is rare and cynicism reigns. But history has shown that when the right figure steps onto the stage at the right moment, even institutions as ancient and cumbersome as the Catholic Church can become agents of change. Let’s hope Leo is that figure. And let’s hope he’s up for the challenge.