The Missing Jews at Tikvah’s Celebration of America

The Tikvah Society recently gathered in lower Manhattan to celebrate America’s 250th birthday and make the Jewish case for American exceptionalism.

It was an impressive gathering. Jonathan Silver moderated a conversation between Ruth Wisse, Bret Stephens, and Eric Cohen. Yet as the evening unfolded, a question lingered:

Who was missing?

Not from the audience, but from the conversation itself.

The answer matters because the people in the room represent a remarkably small slice of both America and American Jewry. Jews comprise roughly 6 million people in a nation of 330 million (1.8%). Within American Jewry, the Modern Orthodox and strongly Zionist non-Orthodox communities that dominate much of American Jewish intellectual life represent only a fraction of the next generation. And the attendees represented the most engaged of that small sliver.

The setting itself made the omission more striking. The discussion took place in the very neighborhood where some of the foundational events of the American Republic unfolded. Within walking distance stand the sites of Washington’s inauguration, the first Congress, and the earliest experiments in American self-government. Yet for an event dedicated to celebrating America, surprisingly little attention was paid to the place itself.

American flags on Fifth Avenue (photo: First One Through)

Instead, the conversation focused on the future of Jews, universities, religion, and politics.

The panelists disagreed on important questions. Wisse argued that Jewish unity is not paramount if unity comes at the expense of conviction: better a smaller community of committed Jews than a larger one saturated in ambivalence. Stephens returned to a theme he has emphasized before: stop obsessing over the haters and invest in Jewish education. Cohen broadened the argument, suggesting that both Jewish and Christian religious education are essential to strengthening America itself. The country’s experiment with secularism, he argued, has weakened the civic and moral foundations on which the Republic depends.

Jonathan Silver, Eric Cohen, Bret Stephens and Ruth Wisse address audience at Tikvah Society event on June 9, 2026 in New York City (photo: First One Through)

Both Stephens and Cohen spoke favorably about Chabad. It is not difficult to see why. Chabad has become one of the few institutions capable of reaching Jews across virtually every level of observance. The Rebbe’s army continues to grow because it understands something many institutions have forgotten: people are attracted to confidence, purpose, and personal relationships. Tikvah has absorbed this – it is curious how it plans on applying it.

Education

The discussion of education was compelling. Nothing is more important than good teachers, and few things are more destructive than bad ones. The panelists lamented the continuing flow of Jewish philanthropy into institutions such as Columbia University, where many faculty members and students openly disparage Zionism, America, and increasingly Jews themselves.

Yet the evening largely avoided a more uncomfortable reality.

In the greater New York area, roughly 490,000 Jewish students attend K-12 schools. Only about 40,000 (8.2%) are found in the Modern Orthodox and Zionist day-school ecosystem (“The 8%”) that forms the backbone of many organizations such as Tikvah. The largest and fastest-growing populations are elsewhere. The majority remain in public and secular schools. Even more significant is the extraordinary growth of Chassidic and Yeshivish communities, which now educate approximately 145,000 students (“30% and Growing”).

Those numbers matter.

Ultra-Orthodox

A strategy centered solely on strengthening the already committed may preserve one segment of Jewish life. It does not answer the larger demographic question facing American Jewry. The central challenge is will Tikvah and “The 8%” engage the overwhelming majority of Jewish children who are either in public schools or in the rapidly growing ultra-Orthodox world.

The same demographic blind spot appeared later in the discussion. Cohen argued that religious Jews and religious Christians should work more closely together to defend the values that built America. There is logic to that argument. Tikvah itself appears to be moving in that direction through its decision to award its Herzl Prize to U.S. Ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee, one of Israel’s most outspoken Christian supporters.

Yet there is a striking irony here. As Jewish leaders search for allies among millions of religious Christians, they overlook the “30% and Growing” communities. Leaders commend Chabad for successful outreach to the secular but don’t consider building bridges to the Chasidic and Yeshivish communities, and engaging the majority of students in public and secular schools.

Public Schools

The challenge facing American Jewry is therefore not simply how to build alliances with Christians who share Jewish concerns. It is also how to build relationships among Jews whose lives increasingly unfold in separate educational, cultural, and social worlds.

The same issue applies to America’s educational crisis. If America is worth saving, public schools matter. Any serious defense of American exceptionalism must include an effort to improve the institutions educating most American children. Reforming public education should not be viewed as somebody else’s problem. It is central to the future of both America and American Jewry.

American Jews need to become highly engaged in local school boards. They need to help moderate and defend the institutions form the worst influences which are overwhelming America’s public schools, poisoning America’s future. The evening was silent on this crucial point.

Universities

The conversation about universities also requires greater precision.

Harvard is not a monolith. Columbia is not a monolith. Administrations, trustees, faculty, students, and donors often have different interests and agendas. Too often Jewish philanthropists write nine-figure checks in exchange for buildings bearing their names. It is a poor investment.

The activists and professors who dominate many campuses are not impressed by another Jewish donor’s name on a wall. In some cases, they actively mock the very people who funded the buildings in which they teach.

A better approach would be to invest in people rather than structures: scholars, faculty, teachers, fellowships, civic education programs, and scholarships for students committed to the values that made America successful. Buildings create monuments. Educators create generations.

AreaTikvah ApproachRealityBetter Tactic
Ultra-OrthodoxIgnore. Focus on Christian groupsFastest growing population Engage, perhaps via important issues for both like public funding for religious schools
Public SchoolsUnaddressedLargest current segmentEngage school boards
UniversitiesDon’t fund or send students / make new onesStill prevalent and dominantRedirect contributions

Perhaps the most important lesson from the evening is that preserving American exceptionalism requires more than celebrating it.

American exceptionalism was never simply a belief that America was superior. At its best, it reflected an understanding that liberty is fragile and must be constantly renewed by citizens willing to sacrifice for something larger than themselves.

The people gathered in that room care deeply about America and about the future of the Jewish people. Their commitment is admirable. But commitment alone is not enough. The arithmetic cannot be ignored.

A movement centered on “The 8%” in a community of 1.8% of Americans (0.15%) cannot secure the future.

The challenge is larger than preserving one vision of Jewish life. It is rebuilding the institutions that form Americans in the first place: families, schools, synagogues, churches, civic organizations, and local communities. That is where outreach to BOTH Christian and Ultra-Orthodox groups matters.

And that work begins with Humble Faith. Humble faith built the America being celebrated in lower Manhattan. Humble faith may also be the only way to bridge the growing divides within the Jewish community itself. As we search for a better America, American Jews may first need to rediscover one another.

The War That Only Happens Outside Israel

The UN Secretary-General’s latest statement on June 8 warns about conflict in Lebanon, Iran, and Gaza.

Yet Israel appears only as the actor, never as the target.

Iranian missiles are fired at Israel. Hezbollah drones cross into Israel. Houthi missiles target Israeli cities. Millions of Israelis live under the threat of attack.

But in much of the international conversation, the war is always somewhere else.

The fighting is “in Lebanon.” It is “in Iran.” It is “in Gaza.”

The reality is that Israel enters the story primarily when it responds.

This framing matters. It transforms Israel from a country under attack into a country that simply attacks. The missiles disappear. The drones disappear. The civilians running to shelters disappear.

A missile launched from Iran toward Haifa is not a conflict “in Iran.”

A drone launched from Lebanon toward Kiryat Shmona is not a conflict “in Lebanon.”

They are attacks on Israel.

Yet too often Israel appears in international statements only after it fires back.

That does not merely distort the geography of the war. It distorts who started it.

The UN Secretary General once again showed its victims of preference and that the global body is not concerned about the fate of Israelis.

From Salute to Celebrate to Am Yisrael: The Next Chapter of New York’s Israel Parade

The children who dominate New York’s Israel parade are no longer the children who dominate Jewish education.

Each spring, Fifth Avenue fills with students from Modern Orthodox and Religious Zionist schools waving Israeli flags, singing Hebrew songs, and celebrating the Jewish state. Yet these students represent only a small fraction of Jewish children in the New York metropolitan area. The largest group of Jewish children attends public and secular private schools. The largest group attending Jewish schools is Chassidic and Yeshivish.

Jewish yeshiva day school students and faculty march up Fifth Avenue in New York City’s Israel parade, May 31, 2026 (photo: First One Through)

That reality raises an important question about the future of one of American Jewry’s most visible public events.

The parade’s own history reflects the evolution of American Jewish identity.

When it was founded in 1964, it was called the Youth Salute to Israel Parade. The name reflected its era. Israel was only sixteen years old. The Holocaust was still within living memory. American Jews were not merely celebrating Israel; they were standing with it.

In 2011, the event became the Celebrate Israel Parade. Israel was no longer a struggling young state. It was a global technology center, a military power, and home to millions of Jews. The emphasis shifted from solidarity to celebration.

After October 7, the parade adopted a third name: Israel Day on Fifth.

The parade’s three names trace the evolution of American Zionism itself. The first generation saluted Israel. The second celebrated Israel.

Today, the challenge is different. Support for Israel can no longer be assumed, and Jewish unity can no longer be taken for granted. The question is whether Israel can continue to serve as a bridge connecting an increasingly diverse Jewish community.

The challenge is particularly visible when looking at Jewish children in the greater NYC area.

The best available estimates suggest that roughly 450,000 to 500,000 Jewish school-age children live in the greater New York metropolitan area. About 170,000 attend Jewish day schools and yeshivot.

Of those, roughly 130,000 to 140,000 attend Chassidic and Yeshivish schools, compared with only 20,000 to 25,000 in Modern Orthodox schools. Outside the day-school world are another 280,000 to 330,000 Jewish children attending public schools, secular private schools, Catholic schools, and other educational settings.

Yet anyone watching the parade could be forgiven for drawing the opposite conclusion.

The schools most visible on Fifth Avenue are overwhelmingly Modern Orthodox and Religious Zionist institutions. They are among the most committed supporters of Israel in American Jewish life. But they represent only a small share of Jewish youth. The fastest-growing segment of Jewish education is Chassidic and Yeshivish. The largest segment of Jewish children overall attends public and secular private schools.

The parade therefore showcases some of the most engaged Jewish children in America, but not necessarily the full spectrum of Jewish youth.

That matters because Israel remains one of the few ideas capable of connecting Jews across denominational, ideological, and educational lines. At a moment when Jewish attachment to Israel is increasingly challenged on college campuses, contested on social media, and questioned in parts of American public life, institutions that connect young Jews to Israel have become more important, not less.

If the goal is Jewish unity in the decades ahead, the parade may need to ask a different question.

Rather than “How do we celebrate Israel?” the question may be “How do we bring the Jewish people together around Israel?”

A future parade organized around Am Yisrael rather than a particular expression of Zionism could create room for every community to participate in its own way.

  • Charedi schools could march under banners celebrating Torah in the Land of Israel.
  • Public-school students could march through camps, youth groups, synagogue programs, and community organizations.
  • Modern Orthodox schools could continue expressing their Religious Zionist vision.
  • Israeli cultural groups, charities, universities, first responders, and innovation organizations would all still have their place.

This would be Am Yisrael Day on Fifth Avenue.


The original parade was created to demonstrate solidarity with a young Jewish state. The next challenge is ensuring that future generations of American Jews remain connected both to Israel and to one another.

Should the future of the parade remain with the niche schools that already fill Fifth Avenue, it will become a symbol of the fragmentation of Israel support even within the Jewish community, let around the broader world. That would not bode well for Jewish New Yorkers or Israel.

The first generation saluted Israel. The second celebrated Israel. The challenge for the third generation is to ensure that Israel remains a force capable of uniting the Jewish people.

The Palestinian Movement with Arab Neighbors to Destroy Israel, 1964–1967

On May 28, 1964, the Palestinian National Charter was adopted in Jordanian-controlled Jerusalem. At that time, the West Bank was under Jordanian rule and Gaza was under Egyptian rule.

The Charter explicitly excluded both territories from its claims. It focused on Israel.

Article 24 stated:

“This Organization does not exercise any regional sovereignty over the West Bank in the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, on the Gaza Strip or in the Himmah Area.”

The Charter did not challenge Arab sovereignty. It only challenged Jewish sovereignty.

Palestinian leaders supplied the national cause; Arab governments supplied the armies.

The Charter left little doubt about its objective. It declared:

“The partition of Palestine in 1947 and the establishment of the State of Israel are entirely illegal.” – Article 17

And that “liberation” of the land is the common cause of all Arabs:

“Arab unity leads to the liberation of Palestine, and the liberation of Palestine leads to Arab unity.” – Article 12

The Palestinian movement was therefore born not as a campaign against an Israeli occupation of the West Bank and Gaza, but as a movement that denied the legitimacy of Israel itself, and one in which the entire Arab world must unite.

The Charter’s author, Ahmad Shukeiri, was born in Lebanon and was Saudi Arabia’s ambassador to the United Nations from 1957 to 1962. His pan-Arab worldview called for Arab armies to destroy Israel:

“Those who survive will remain in Palestine, but I estimate that none of them will survive.” – Ahmad Shukeiri June 1, 1967

Another widely reported statement attributed to him declared:

The Jews of Palestine will have to leaveWe shall destroy Israel and its inhabitants and as for the survivors – if there are any – the boats are ready to deport them.

Ahmad Shukeiri, circa 1965

Shukeiri’s brothers-in-arms said much the same.

In October 1964, Syrian leader Salah Jadid declared:

“Our army will be satisfied with nothing less than the disappearance of Israel.”

In May 1965, Egypt and Iraq jointly announced:

“The Arab national aim is the elimination of Israel.”

That same year, Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser proclaimed:

“We shall not enter Palestine with its soil covered in sand; we shall enter it with its soil saturated in blood.”

Iraqi President Abdul Rahman Arif described Israel as:

“an error which must be rectified.”

In June 1967, the Palestinian movement and the surrounding Arab states were speaking a common language. The PLO and Arab leaders denied Israel’s legitimacy and spoke openly of its disappearance, elimination, and destruction.

The rhetoric was matched by action. Egypt expelled the United Nations Emergency Force from Sinai, followed by Egyptian troops pouring into the peninsula. The Straits of Tiran were closed to Israeli shipping. Military alliances linked Egypt, Syria, Jordan, and Iraq. Arab armies massed on Israel’s borders.

Against that backdrop, Nasser announced on May 26, 1967:

“The battle will be a general one and our basic objective will be to destroy Israel.

Nine days later, war began.


Today, one of the most recognizable slogans associated with the Palestinian movement is “From the River to the Sea.” People often pretend that it is a call to free the West Bank and Gaza from “occupation” but the Arabic phrase speaks to the deeper truth as outlined by history.

Min al-nahr ila al-bahr, Filastin ‘arabiyyah” meaning “from the river to the sea, Palestine will be Arab.”

Whether controlled by Jordan or Egypt or a hoped for Palestine, the Palestinian movement at its core has always been an anti-Israel movement to destroy the presence of Jews in “any part of Palestine.”

The June 1967 Six-Day War did not create the current dynamic in the Israel-Arab conflict. It was the conclusion of the first chapter of the Palestinian-led pan-Arab rejection of Jews living in and having sovereignty in land they view as purely Arab.

The Menorah and the Two Olive Trees

Parshat Beha’alotcha opens with the lighting of the Menorah.

The Haftorah from Zechariah returns to the same image but adds a remarkable detail. The prophet sees a golden Menorah fed by two olive trees, one on each side, supplying a continuous flow of oil.

Confused by the vision, Zechariah asks what it means. The answer contains one of the most famous lines in the Bible:

“Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit, says the Lord of Hosts.” – Zechariah 4:6

The vision came during the rebuilding of Jerusalem and the Second Temple. A small Jewish community had returned from Babylonian exile and faced the daunting task of restoring both a city and a nation.

Many readers focus on the famous verse. The prophet, however, devotes considerable attention to the two olive trees.

Rashi, following the Talmud, identifies the two olive trees with Joshua the High Priest and Zerubbabel the governor. One represented the spiritual leadership of the nation. The other represented its political and civic restoration.

The symbolism is powerful.

The Menorah stands between spiritual leadership and political leadership. Between the Temple and the city. Between faith and statecraft.

The vision’s message was not that politics would save the Jewish people. Nor was it that spiritual life alone would rebuild Jerusalem.

The Temple could not stand without a city. A city could not fulfill its purpose without the values embodied by the Temple.

That lesson echoed throughout Jewish history.

Kings and prophets, priests and governors, rabbis and communal leaders each played different roles in sustaining Jewish life. Sometimes they cooperated. Sometimes they clashed. Yet Jewish continuity depended on both the preservation of spiritual purpose and the institutions capable of carrying that purpose into the world.

Today, Israel’s state emblem places a Menorah at its center, flanked by olive branches. The design was inspired by the Menorah depicted on the Arch of Titus in Rome, commemorating the destruction of Jerusalem nearly two thousand years ago. Yet the image also echoes Zechariah’s vision of a Menorah being reestablished in Jerusalem, standing between olive trees.

A people of faith needs security, institutions, and leadership. A nation needs purpose, values, and a mission greater than itself.

Zechariah’s vision does not place the Menorah beneath a single olive tree.

It stands between two.

The light of Israel emerges from the meeting point of spiritual purpose and national life.

Before Palestinians Can Hold an Election, They Must Decide Who Is Palestinian

On November 1, 2026, Palestinians are scheduled to elect a new Palestinian National Council (PNC), the legislative body of the Palestine Liberation Organization.

Before they can choose their leaders, however, they must answer a more fundamental question: Who gets to vote?

The PNC claims to represent Palestinians everywhere, not merely those living in the West Bank and Gaza. Its members help determine the leadership and direction of the Palestinian national movement itself. The question of voter eligibility is therefore inseparable from the question of who is represented.

The new electoral framework approved by President Mahmoud Abbas reserves 200 seats for Palestinians living in the West Bank, Gaza, and Jerusalem, and 150 seats for the diaspora.

The allocation itself reveals a dilemma.

The Palestinian national movement claims to represent over fourteen million people worldwide. Yet more than nine million live outside the territories. A fully proportional system could allow voters in Jordan, Europe, North America, and elsewhere to dominate institutions that claim to represent Palestinians living in Ramallah, Hebron, Nablus, and Gaza. The 200-150 split appears to give preference to those who live with the consequences of Palestinian political decisions over the larger voices from around the world.

That raises a more difficult question.

Who qualifies as Palestinian?

Should Jordanian citizens of Palestinian origin – like Queen Rania – vote? What about Americans, Canadians, or Europeans whose grandparents left the region decades ago? How many generations removed from Palestine remain eligible?

Queen Rania of Jordan, also a Palestinian

The question may be most consequential in Jordan, where millions of people of Palestinian origin – estimated at 70% of the population – already participate in the political life of another state. Would Jordanian citizens vote in elections for a body that claims to represent Palestinians globally? If so, how many generations removed from Palestine remain eligible?

The question becomes even more complicated inside Israel.

Roughly two million Israeli Arabs vote in Israeli elections and participate in Israeli political life. Many also identify as Palestinian. Will they vote in elections for the Palestinian National Council?

Jerusalem creates an additional complication. Palestinian leaders seek participation from Arab residents of eastern Jerusalem, which they view as part of a future Palestinian state. Israel considers Jerusalem part of Israel, and many Arab residents of eastern Jerusalem hold Israeli citizenship.

If eastern Jerusalem residents vote while Arab citizens of Israel elsewhere do not, Palestinian leaders will be drawing distinctions that many people may find difficult to explain. Why should an Israeli citizen in eastern Jerusalem participate while an Israeli citizen in Haifa, Nazareth, Acre, or Jaffa cannot?

Arabs in the Old City of Jerusalem. Some are Israeli citizens while others only residents. Who will be invited to participate in Palestinian elections? (photo: First One Through)

The Jerusalem question raises another issue Palestinian leaders will eventually have to address.

If current residency in eastern Jerusalem or the West Bank is enough to qualify someone to participate in Palestinian national elections, what about the hundreds of thousands of Jews who live in those same areas?

Palestinian leaders consider eastern Jerusalem and the West Bank part of the territory of a future Palestinian state. More than 700,000 Israeli Jews live there today. Will any of them be eligible to vote for the Palestinian National Council?

The issue extends beyond contemporary residents. Before 1948, the term Palestinian was often used in a geographic sense. Jews living in Mandatory Palestine carried Palestinian passports and considered themselves Palestinian.

A descendant of an Arab family that left Jaffa, Haifa, or Jerusalem generations ago may be eligible to vote despite never having lived there. A descendant of a Jewish family that lived continuously in Jerusalem, Hebron, Safed, or Tiberias for centuries almost certainly will not be allowed to participate in PNC elections.

The distinction reveals that eligibility is not based solely on current residence, geography, or even historical presence in the land. The electorate is being defined through a more specific combination of ancestry, identity, and connection to a particular historical community.

For decades, Palestinian leaders have often left the boundaries of Palestinian identity deliberately broad. Political movements can operate with ambiguity. Elections cannot.

The voter rolls will reveal whether Palestinian nationhood is principally based on residence, citizenship, ancestry, ethnicity, geography, national affiliation, or some combination of all six. Ethnicity alone cannot fully explain the answer. Palestinians, Jordanians, Syrians, Lebanese, and many others share substantial linguistic, cultural, familial, and ethnic ties. The decisive factor appears to be a connection to a particular place and to people who lived there at a particular moment in history.

That is what makes the exercise so unusual. A Palestinian born in Chile, Canada, or the United States may qualify because a grandparent once lived in Jaffa or Jerusalem. A Jordanian or Syrian whose family never lived in Mandatory Palestine may not qualify despite sharing many of the same cultural and ethnic characteristics. A Jew – regardless of where he currently or historically lived – may be excluded.

Every eligibility rule will draw a line. Some people will be included while others will be excluded. Every decision will reveal how Palestinian leaders understand nationality, citizenship, ancestry, and belonging.

In many ways, Palestinians are attempting something few modern national movements have ever attempted: defining a political nation across multiple countries, generations, and citizenships while simultaneously deciding who belongs to it.

Imagine a movement claiming to represent all Black people whose families lived in North Carolina before 1948. Descendants living in California, London, or Johannesburg could vote even if they had never visited the state. Non-Black current residents of North Carolina could not. The electorate would be defined by ancestry tied to a place and a moment in history.

Whether one finds that model compelling or problematic, the Palestinian election will force its architects to explain where they draw those lines.

Whatever rules emerge, millions of people will discover whether they are considered part of the Palestinian political nation, observers of it, or something in between.

Most elections choose leaders. This election may do something far rarer: define the nation itself.

Before Palestinians can elect their leaders, they must first answer a more difficult question:

Who is a Palestinian?

The Genocidal State They Wanted to Visit

Linda Sarsour wanted to enter Israel.

So did Rashida Tlaib.

So did Ilhan Omar.

That is an awkward fact.

All three women have spent years accusing Israel of apartheid. They have described it as a state built on Jewish supremacy. They have accused it of ethnic cleansing, war crimes, and genocide. They portray Israel as uniquely dangerous for Palestinian Arabs and Muslims.

Yet all three Muslim women voluntarily sought entry.

If they truly believed their own accusations, the decisions are difficult to comprehend.

People do not voluntarily place themselves under the authority of governments they believe are genocidal. They do not seek access to countries they regard as fundamentally dangerous to people like themselves.

There is a reason almost no Syrian Jews are preparing to return to Syria despite recent invitations from the country’s new leadership. Syria was once home to a thriving Jewish community. Today, it is virtually gone. Whatever promises may be made by the new government, people who genuinely fear for their safety do not rush back. They do not voluntarily place themselves under the authority of a state they believe could harm them.

Sarsour, Tlaib, and Omar did the opposite.

Their applications revealed something their rhetoric obscures. Whatever they say about Israel, they expected to arrive safely, travel freely, and return home without incident.

Consider the many Muslim-majority countries with suffering populations that these Muslim women did not attempt to enter. Sudan and Somalia. Lebanon and Syria. Yemen and Iran. Yet these women say nothing about those regimes and do not seek to visit those nations.

It is difficult to reconcile the claims that Israel is a genocidal, apartheid, supremacist state – seemingly uniquely in the region – and that people who vilify the country are running to visit it.

No one forced them to apply for a visa. They wanted to go.

And that may be the strongest commentary on their smear and accusations campaign of all.

When an Essay About Lebanon Becomes an Essay About Changing Israel

The most revealing part of a recent New York Times essay on Lebanon by Lydia Polgreen is that it eventually stops being about Lebanon.

Lydia Polgreen of the New York Times

Readers are taken through a long 3,200-word editorial about an “ancient” country recovering from war. They meet civilians, politicians, intellectuals, and even Hezbollah supporters. They hear about sovereignty, reconstruction, and national renewal.

Picture accompanying 3,200-word article by Lydia Polgreen, placing a person sitting on a rock between a field of flowers and a plane overhead, a metaphor between its “ancient” beautiful land and foreign forces overhead or the temptation of leaving out of fear and disgust.

Then the focus shifts.

What begins as a reflection on Lebanon’s future gradually becomes a discussion of whether Israel should continue to exist in its present form.

That turn reveals the essay’s central assumption.

Lebanon is introduced through the language of continuity. Tyre is an “ancient city.” Villages are “ancestral.” Sectarian divisions are “ancient.” The country is presented as a society with deep roots struggling to reclaim its future.

Israel receives a different vocabulary.

Israel occupies. Israel expands. Israel bombs. Israeli troops hold an “ever-expanding swath” of territory. The Israel is a “foreign military” operating inside another country. Israeli actions are repeatedly interpreted through ideological labels such as a “maximum-war doctrine.”

One nation is described through history and belonging. The other through power and force.

The contrast becomes more striking when the essay turns to sovereignty.

The preferred frame is Israeli intrusion into Lebanese sovereignty. Yet the defining political reality of modern Lebanon is that sovereignty itself remains unresolved.

Hezbollah maintains an independent army outside the authority of Beirut. It receives funding, weapons, and strategic direction from Iran. It launched attacks on Israel after October 7 without authorization from the Lebanese government. For decades, Lebanese governments have struggled to establish a monopoly on force within their own borders.

The central question facing Lebanon is not merely reconstruction. It is sovereignty. Who governs southern Lebanon? Who decides questions of war and peace? Who controls the country’s most powerful armed force?

Those questions sit surprisingly close to the margins of the essay. Polgreen concludes that Hezbollah – even after the demise of its “charismatic leader” Hassan Nasrallah – will endure and be part of a “pluralistic” Lebanese society (“pluralism” and “pluralistic” show up four times in the article).

Readers learn far more about Israeli power than about Lebanese weakness.

Near the end, the essay abandons its own logic.

At one point readers are told that Hezbollah “could not be excised from the body politic.” Political reality, in other words, must be acknowledged. Hezbollah has supporters, influence, institutions, and representation. Lebanon’s future must somehow accommodate that reality.

Yet that principle vanishes when the discussion turns to Israel.

After thousands of words about Lebanon, readers are introduced to arguments for a one-state future that would effectively end Israel as the Jewish nation-state. An “emerging international consensus” suddenly becomes relevant to determining Israel’s future.

The contrast is revealing.

When discussing Lebanon, the essay asks Lebanese people what they want. Readers hear from civilians, intellectuals, politicians, and Hezbollah supporters. Their aspirations become the measure of Lebanon’s future, which we are informed will be pluralistic and peaceful, even when including Hezbollah.

When discussing Israel, Israelis are nowhere to be found. Readers have no context what the average Israeli wants. They are not told that overwhelming majorities support maintaining Israel as a Jewish state. Instead, the relevant question becomes what an international consensus believes should happen.

The people whose “settler-colonial, aggressive, expansionist” state is cast as being temporary are absent from the discussion. Presumably, the readers are being led to the conclusion that international pressure must be placed on Israel to let Lebanon live.

Lebanon’s future belongs to the Lebanese. Israel’s future belongs to everyone else.

By the end, readers know that Lebanon is an ancient nation whose sovereignty deserves restoration. Hezbollah is an enduring political reality that must be accommodated. Israel is a state whose identity should be reshaped by outside opinion.

Hezbollah is never properly labeled a US-designated foreign terrorist organization. Israel is never described as an American ally. Lebanon is not painted as a failed country which cannot control its failed economy or borders or manage a distinct military force outside governmental control.

A country that struggles to control its own territory is granted unquestioned legitimacy. A country with functioning institutions, competitive elections, and one of the region’s strongest economies is presented as a candidate for political reinvention.

The essay asks readers to accept permanence for Hezbollah, self-determination for Lebanon, and international supervision for Israel.

It begins by asking how Lebanon should recover from war. It ends by asking whether Israel should remain Israel.

For an essay about Lebanon, that is an oddly revealing destination.

How Safe Districts Turn Fringe Candidates Into Members of Congress

One of the most important political developments in America is happening long before Election Day.

Across the country, congressional districts have become so politically lopsided that the general election is often a foregone conclusion. The real contest takes place in party primaries, where turnout is lower, activists are more influential, and crowded fields can allow candidates to prevail with only a fraction of the vote.

New Jersey’s 12th Congressional District offers a striking example.

The district is one of the safest Democratic seats in the state. Thirteen Democrats entered the race to succeed Representative Bonnie Watson Coleman. When the votes were counted, Adam Hamawy emerged victorious with roughly a quarter of the vote. In most elections, winning 25 percent would mean defeat. In a heavily gerrymandered district where the Democratic primary effectively determines the winner, it may be enough to send someone to Congress.

Egyptian-born Adam Hamawy wins Democratic primary in NJ12 with backing of popular anti-Israel streamer Hasan Piker and alt-left politicians Sen. Bernie Sanders and Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez

That reality changes the type of candidates who can reach Washington.

Candidates who would struggle to build broad support across an entire electorate can succeed by assembling a passionate faction within a low-turnout primary. Once nominated in a safe district, they often face little risk in November.

Hamawy’s victory illustrates the dynamic.

Critics pointed to Hamawy’s testimony as a defense witness for jihadist Sheikh Omar Abdel-Rahman, the “Blind Sheikh” convicted for his role in terrorist plots linked to the 1993 World Trade Center bombing. They highlighted his volunteer work in Bosnia with the Benevolence International Foundation, an organization later shut down after investigators linked it to Al Qaeda. They questioned statements he made during the Blind Sheikh trial and raised concerns about past associations with individuals and organizations connected to radical Islamist movements.

Controversies like these that would likely receive intense scrutiny in a competitive district carried relatively little political cost in a race where winning roughly one quarter of a divided primary electorate may be sufficient to secure a seat in Congress.

The problem is not unique to Democrats. Deep-red districts have produced candidates whose views would struggle in a competitive statewide race. Deep-blue districts increasingly do the same. The common factor is not ideology. It is political geography.

Competitive districts reward coalition builders. Safe districts reward faction leaders.

Every society contains fringe movements. The question is whether political institutions force those movements to persuade a broader public before gaining power.

When candidates must compete for swing voters, controversial ideas are subjected to wider scrutiny. When victory depends on energizing a narrow slice of primary voters, the incentives change. Candidates can thrive by appealing to activists rather than assembling broad coalitions.

This feels much like social media. Inside echo chambers, radical ideas become normalized. As algorithms reward engagement, more extreme ideas ultimately push out the normalized-radical in the quest for eyeballs. Moderation is lost, and dissent is met with expulsion.

Ideological social media communities are the online equivalent of heavily gerrymandered deeply blue or red districts.

That dynamic helps explain a puzzle in modern American politics.

Polls consistently show that overt antisemitism remains a minority view in the United States. Yet some of the most visible antisemitic and anti-Israel voices in American politics emerge from districts where the decisive election is the primary rather than the general election.

Most Americans do not spend their time vilifying Jews, questioning Jewish belonging, or treating the world’s only Jewish state as uniquely illegitimate. Yet politicians can gain prominence by appealing to activist networks – online around the nation and local physically – where those themes carry political currency.

That does not mean those views represent America. It means they do not need to represent America; only enough primary voters in enough safe districts.

The same political system that elevated Adam Hamawy in New Jersey has elevated figures such as Rashida Tlaib and, on the Republican side, Marjorie Taylor Greene. Their ideologies differ dramatically, but the electoral formula is remarkably similar. A candidate builds an intense following within a safe district, wins a primary, and arrives in Congress with little need to appeal beyond that niche radical base.

NOVEMBER 30, 2018: (L-R) Rep. Rashida Tlaib (D-MN), Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-MN) and Rep. Jamaal Bowman (D-NY) take questions during a news conference about Islamophobia. (Photo by Drew Angerer/Getty Images)

The result is a Congress increasingly populated by politicians whose views are more representative of the most motivated primary voters than of the broader American public.

The problem is bigger than any one candidate. It is a system in which winning 25 percent of a primary electorate can matter more than winning the confidence of the country.

ACTION ITEM

Demand a change to primaries.

  • Any election in which the winning candidate fails to receive 40% of the vote automatically requires a run-off between the two highest vote getters
  • Stop radical gerrymandering and mid-decade gerrymandering
  • Enable open primaries in which everyone can vote, regardless of party afiliation
  • Institute ranked-choice voting, especially in races with more than four people running
  • Ban entities that negotiate with municipalities (like teacher unions) from endorsing or donating to candidates

The War Against Jewish History. Will Come For Jews

A lecture on the archaeology of ancient Israel and Judah was supposed to take place at the British Museum this month. Instead, it was postponed after organizers learned that protesters intended to disrupt the event.

The subject was not the Gaza war nor settlements nor Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

It was archaeology.

It has happened before. In 2014, UNESCO canceled an exhibition on the Jewish people’s 3,500-year history in the Land of Israel after objections from Arab states. More recently, Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas repeatedly denied that the Jewish Temples stood in Jerusalem, at one point claiming they were actually located in Yemen.

These episodes share a common thread. The dispute is no longer simply about the modern State of Israel nor its policies or actions. It is increasingly about the history of the Jewish people themselves.

Yet the evidence is overwhelming. The kingdoms of Israel and Judah are among the best-documented societies of the ancient Near East. Their existence is attested through inscriptions, seals, coins, manuscripts, monuments, and the records of neighboring civilizations. The British Museum itself houses artifacts that tell this story.

Seal of King Hezekiah found in Jerusalem, around 700 BCE

That is why archaeology poses such a problem for those who seek to portray Jews as foreign interlopers – colonizers – with no ancient connection to the land. Artifacts cannot be pressured into changing their testimony. Every discovery points in the same direction: the Jewish story in the Land of Israel stretches back thousands of years, before the births of Jesus and Mohammed.

Few people would tolerate a museum debating whether ancient Egypt existed or whether Rome stood in Italy. Yet Jewish history is increasingly treated as uniquely negotiable.

Curiously and alarmingly, the protest at the British Museum had a much more immediate backdrop than the current war. This talk was to take place during Jewish Culture Month and the protestors were assembled by an anti-Israel group called “Jewish Artists for Palestine.” The museum’s efforts to highlight Jewish history in the land of Israel during a period of focus on Jewish culture brought out Jewish anti-Israel protestors.


Institutions are backing away from Jewish history and culture with the backing of fringe extremist Jews and anti-Israel Arabs. So basic history becomes debate, and the debate has moved from the policies of the Israeli government to Jews themselves.

The Nazis physically annihilated the Jews of Europe as it sought to place their culture as historical artifacts in museums. Now, museums and institutions seek to erase Jewish history and culture as a prelude to eradicating Jews in the Middle East.