The Mirror Nations Refuse to Face

This week’s parsha, Vayakhel, introduces one of the Torah’s most overlooked symbols: mirrors. The bronze basin used by the priests in the Mishkan was fashioned from the mirrors donated by Israelite women. Before performing sacred service, the priests had to wash there as a ritual reminder that moral authority begins with reflection.

Rashi (1040-1105) says these mirrors carried a deeper story. They were not instruments of vanity. In Egypt, when slavery crushed hope and dignity, the women used those mirrors to encourage their husbands and restore their spirit, and thereby build families that would become the nation of Israel. What appeared to be self-reflection was in fact an act of national responsibility.

Now Moses was about to reject them [mirrors] since they were made to pander to their vanity, but the Holy One, blessed be He, said to him, “Accept them; these are dearer to Me than all the other contributions, because through them the women reared those huge hosts in Egypt!” For when their husbands were tired through the crushing labor they used to bring them food and drink and induced them to eat. Then they would take the mirrors, and each gazed at herself in her mirror together with her husband, saying endearingly to him, “See, I am handsomer than you!” Thus they awakened their husbands’ affection and subsequently became the mothers of many children, – Rashi on Exodus 38:8

Egyptian copper mirror

The Torah’s insight is timeless: using a mirror as a tool for the greater good. Individuals often avoid doing so. Nations, virtually never.

Spain today offers a vivid example of what happens when a country replaces the mirror with a flattering portrait of itself.

Spain presents itself as a moral voice on the international stage, particularly when it comes to Israel. Spanish officials speak the language of humanitarian principle and international law, portraying their stance as the product of ethical clarity.

But when viewed through the mirror the Torah describes, Spain’s posture looks far less like moral leadership and far more like moral performance.

The issue is not disagreement with Israeli policy. Democracies criticize one another all the time. The issue is the enormous gap between Spain’s self-image and its conduct. Spain condemns Israel in sweeping moral terms while maintaining quiet relationships with regimes like the Islamic Republic of Iran whose human rights records make Israel’s conflicts look restrained by comparison. It speaks loudly about justice in the Middle East while applying far less scrutiny elsewhere.

The mirror reveals something uncomfortable: a country congratulating itself for moral courage while directing its harshest condemnation toward the world’s only Jewish state.

This pattern does not arise in a vacuum. Spain’s relationship with Jews carries a long and painful history, culminating in the Alhambra Decree. The ease with which moral outrage is directed toward Jews while harsher regimes escape similar condemnation raises an uncomfortable question about whether some old instincts still linger beneath the surface.

The mirrors of Vayakhel represent the opposite instinct. The women of Israel used mirrors not to flatter themselves but to build a future. Their reflection demanded responsibility, not self-congratulation. That is why those mirrors became the basin in which priests purified themselves before entering sacred service.

The Torah’s message is simple: before claiming moral authority, look honestly into the mirror.

Spain seems to have replaced the mirror with a portrait of itself as a defender of justice. But to many observers the reflection looks different: moral preening, selective outrage, and criticism of the Jewish state so disproportionate that it begins to resemble something older and much uglier.

The basin in the Mishkan stood at the entrance to sacred service. Every priest had to wash there before speaking in the name of holiness.

Nations should consider doing the same.

The Losers’ Echo of the Six Day War

When armies lose wars, the battlefield does not always disappear. It often moves to softer targets.

That is what happened after the Six-Day War, when Israel delivered a devastating defeat to the combined armies of Egypt, Jordan, and Syria. In six days, territories changed hands, military reputations collapsed, and the promise that Israel would soon be destroyed evaporated.

The defeat reverberated far beyond the battlefield. It humiliated governments across the Arab world and shattered the image of inevitable victory that had surrounded the campaign against Israel.

But the war did not end. It simply changed form.

In the years that followed, militant organizations such as the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine and the Black September Organization exported the conflict around the world.

The targets were no longer Israeli armies; they were civilians.

Airplanes became battlegrounds. Diplomats became targets. Jewish institutions across the diaspora suddenly found themselves on the front lines of a war being fought thousands of miles away.

The Munich massacre shocked the world when Israeli athletes were murdered at the Olympic Games by Palestinian Arab terrorists. It demonstrated that the battlefield could be moved to the most international stage imaginable.

Another defining moment came with the Entebbe hijacking, when Palestinian terrorists seized an Air France flight and diverted it to Uganda. There, Jewish and Israeli passengers were separated from the others and held hostage in an old airport terminal. The episode ended with a daring Israeli rescue, but the hijacking revealed something chilling: Jews anywhere could be turned into targets for a war militants could not win against Israel itself.

Synagogues and Jewish community centers were attacked in cities far removed from the Middle East battlefield. Rome. Athens. Istanbul. Hezbollah and Iran were often behind the atrocities.

These were not military targets. They were chosen precisely because they were vulnerable.

The message was unmistakable: if Israel could not be defeated in the Middle East, Jews everywhere would become targets.

Today there are worrying signs that the same pattern may be returning.

Iran and its regional network of militias face mounting military pressure from Israel and the United States. When regimes and movements cannot confront stronger armies directly, history shows they often search for targets they can reach more easily.

Recent intelligence chatter has suggested that Iran may have issued signals intended to activate sleeper operatives abroad. Western security services have increased monitoring of potential networks across North America, Europe, and Australia. Whether these warnings prove accurate or not, the concern reflects a familiar strategic logic: when the battlefield is lost in one region, pressure is applied elsewhere.

As the United States becomes the central military opponent of Iran, American Jews may face the threat most acutely.

Extremist movements have repeatedly treated Jewish communities abroad as symbolic stand ins for Israel and its allies. When Israel gains the upper hand militarily, Jews in distant cities have often become the targets that terrorists believe they can reach.

This time the danger may be compounded by a new environment.

Terror no longer requires direct command structures. Groups such as Islamic State pioneered a model of “inspiration terrorism,” where individuals absorb propaganda online and act independently without formal membership or training, such as happened this week in New York City.

At the same time, a troubling ideological convergence has taken shape in parts of Western society. Radical Islamist movements and segments of the revolutionary left increasingly share a political vocabulary built around anti-imperialism, anti-colonialism, and the demonization of Israel. In that narrative, Israel becomes the embodiment of oppression. Jews are portrayed as agents of imperial power rather than a people with a three thousand year connection to their homeland.

When those ideas spread through social media, activist networks, and even parts of the educational system, hostility toward Israel can easily spill over into hostility toward Jews themselves.

The result is combustible.

A generation is growing up hearing that violence against Israel is “resistance,” that Jews represent colonial domination, and that the conflict is part of a global struggle against oppression.

History shows where that logic can lead.

If history is echoing once again, the streets of Western cities may soon remind us of a grim truth: the losers of wars do not always accept defeat.

We are witnessing the next phase of the War on Zionists.

Related:

Genocidal Jihadists Come For ‘Soft Targets’ (September 2024)

Politicians In Their Own Words: Why We Don’t Support Defending Jews (January 2022)

Spain Breaks With Israel, Not Washington

In a sharp escalation of transatlantic tension, Donald Trump threatened to cut off trade with Spain, accusing Madrid of refusing to support operations against Iran and failing to meet its defense obligations within NATO.

Spain rejected the criticism, citing sovereignty and international law and refusing to allow U.S. forces to use Spanish bases in operations tied to the Iran conflict.

Yet at the same time Madrid made a different diplomatic move. Spain permanently withdrew its ambassador from Israel, citing the widening regional war.

The contrast is striking.

The military campaign against Iran has been led by the United States, with Israel acting alongside it. If participation in that conflict justified downgrading diplomatic relations, the same logic would apply first to Washington, yet Spain withdrew no ambassador from the United States.

Even after Trump threatened sweeping trade retaliation, Madrid left its diplomatic posture toward Washington unchanged.

Instead, the rupture fell on Israel alone.

The reason is not difficult to see. Confronting the United States carries consequences. The American economy dwarfs Spain’s, and Washington anchors the NATO security system protecting Europe. Spain benefits from that umbrella while contributing among the lowest shares of national income to defense within the alliance.

Angering Washington carries risk. Angering Israel carries almost none.

Spain frames its decision as moral protest. But if war with Iran is the offense, the United States leads it. If regional escalation is the concern, Spain still maintains diplomatic relations with Iran itself, the leading state sponsor of terrorism.

If Spain were to look in the mirror, what would it see? A principled stand against war? That is the language Madrid uses.

But the reflection suggests something else. Spain keeps its ambassador in Washington, maintains relations with Tehran, and breaks with Jerusalem — the smallest actor in the conflict.

Spain is a nation of nearly fifty million compared to Israel, a country of ten million, a small state surrounded by hundreds of millions of Muslims where hostility toward Israel goes back to the Jewish State’s reestablishment.

That asymmetry will not go unnoticed in Washington or among Israel’s allies. Spain already faces pressure to increase its NATO defense spending. If Madrid is willing to rupture relations with Israel over the Iran war while maintaining relations with Iran itself, the contradiction may soon move from rhetoric to diplomacy.

The question could become blunt:
restore normal relations with Israel, end trade with Iran, and meet NATO defense commitments — or risk losing the security umbrella Spain depends on.

A nation looking honestly in the mirror might call that geopolitics. Or antisemitism.

The Speed of Anger and the Slow Work of Trust

Anger seems to travel faster than love.

Are we entering a world where the outrageous spreads faster than the beautiful? Where algorithms reward anger more than humor and shouting carries farther than laughter?

These questions feel new. The forces behind them are not.

Human beings have long been drawn to danger more than calm. Psychologists call this “negativity bias.” In a landmark paper, psychologist Roy F. Baumeister and his colleagues summarized it simply: bad is stronger than good. Negative events imprint themselves more deeply than positive ones. We notice threats faster than beauty.

For most of human history this instinct helped us survive. Ignoring a sunset had no consequence. Ignoring danger could be fatal.

Technology did not create our darker impulses. It simply gave them speed. In the digital age that ancient instinct has found a powerful amplifier.

The platforms that shape modern conversation—Meta Platforms, X (formerly Twitter), and TikTok—are built to maximize engagement. Their algorithms reward what provokes reaction. Anger drives comments. Outrage produces shares. Conflict spreads faster than reflection.

Researchers studying millions of posts have found a consistent pattern: anger spreads more quickly than joy. The algorithms did not invent hatred. They simply discovered how easily it travels.

Another force quietly reinforces the cycle: incentive. In a fragile and uncertain economy, the fastest path to attention, influence, and sometimes income often runs through the anger storm of social media. Outrage attracts followers. Followers attract status and advertising. The system rewards those who inflame rather than those who illuminate.

The result is a distortion of public life. Rage becomes highly visible while ordinary decency remains largely unseen.

Martin Luther King Jr. captured the difference between what spreads easily and what sustains a society. “Hatred paralyzes life,” he wrote in Strength to Love. “Love releases it. Hatred confuses life. Love harmonizes it.”

Yet the digital public square increasingly rewards the paralysis.

Elie Wiesel warned of a deeper danger: “The opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference.”

In the endless scroll of online outrage, indifference becomes hatred’s silent partner. Cruelty becomes spectacle. People react and move on.

History suggests that hatred has always been loud but rarely durable.

During the American Civil War, Abraham Lincoln asked a question that still resonates: “Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them?”

The Russian writer Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn offered a similar warning: “The line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being.”

Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks expressed the same moral challenge in modern terms:
“The supreme religious challenge is to see God’s image in one who is not in our image.”

Such insights are uncomfortable in a digital culture that constantly divides humanity into enemies and allies.

The deeper problem today may not be that hatred is stronger than love. It may simply be that hatred is easier to distribute, easier to amplify, and increasingly profitable.

Algorithms reward immediate reaction. Beauty requires attention. Humor requires context. Reflection requires time. Outrage requires only a spark.

The digital public square begins to resemble a hall of mirrors.
The loudest voices dominate the room while the quiet majority disappears from view. It becomes easy to believe that everyone is screaming.

Tristan Tate and Andrew Tate in 2023.Credit : AP Photo/Vadim Ghirda

But outside the algorithmic storm the world still runs on cooperation. Families care for one another. Strangers help strangers. People build communities, businesses, schools, and hospitals together every day.

If hatred truly governed human behavior, civilization would collapse within weeks.

The danger is not that hate is winning. The danger is that the systems we built to connect the world reward the worst parts of human nature.

And at the very moment those systems amplify anger, the qualities that restrain anger may be weakening.

The path away from hatred has always depended on patience and trust. Both are under strain.

Technology has shortened attention spans and conditioned us to expect immediate satisfaction. Judgments are rendered in seconds. The slow work of understanding struggles to survive in an environment built for speed.

Trust is also eroding. Artificial intelligence can generate images, voices, and entire narratives that blur the line between the real and the fabricated. As that line fades, people begin to doubt what they see.

A society without patience reacts before thinking.
A society without trust suspects everything.

That makes this a particularly delicate moment. The engines distributing information reward outrage, the incentives encourage it, and the habits that resist it grow weaker at the same time.

The critical question of the day is whether we will recognize that danger in time.

Jihadi-washing and the Ideology the Times Won’t Name

A bombing attempt near Gracie Mansion followed a pattern Americans have seen before: young men radicalized online, pledging allegiance to the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria, and attempting violence in the name of jihad.

But if you read the The New York Times, you might never notice the pattern at all.

Two men were charged after attempting the ISIS-inspired bombing near Gracie Mansion. Prosecutors say the suspects pledged allegiance to ISIS and threw improvised explosive devices toward a protest crowd and police. The bombs failed to detonate, but the casualties could have been catastrophic. The bombing suspects were 18-year-old Emir Balat, a high school student, and Ibrahim Kayumi, 19.

The plot followed a model ISIS has promoted for years: radicalize individuals already living in Western societies and encourage them to strike where they live. No training camps. No command structure. Just ideology delivered through propaganda, social media and Muslim countries money in American schools.

America has already seen the results.

In 2015, a radicalized couple carried out the San Bernardino attack. Syed Rizwan Farook was 28 and Tashfeen Malik was 29.

In 2016, Omar Mateen29, murdered forty nine people in the Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando while declaring loyalty to ISIS.

In 2017, Sayfullo Saipov, also 29, drove a rented truck onto the Hudson River bike path in Manhattan in the 2017 New York City truck attack, killing eight people and leaving a note pledging allegiance to ISIS.

This pattern is not accidental. ISIS propaganda deliberately targets young Muslims in their late teens and twenties, the age when identity and grievance can be shaped by ideology. The strategy is not to import terrorists into the West. It is to cultivate them here.

Yet when the New York Times recently referenced the Hudson River attack, it described it simply as “a terrorist driving a truck killed eight people.”

The ideology behind the attack vanished from the story.

When the ideology behind violence disappears, the violence itself begins to look random. But it is not random. It is ideological.

The same pattern of New York Times’ language appears elsewhere.

After the October 7 massacre carried out by Hamas, the New York Times described social media posts celebrating the attack as being “supportive of the Palestinian cause.” One of the examples involved Rama Duwaji, the wife of New York mayor Zohran Mamdani, who had liked posts praising the attack shortly after it occurred. At the time, Duwaji was 26 years old.

October 7 was a terrorist assault in which more than a thousand Israelis were murdered and civilians were kidnapped. Describing celebration of that massacre as support for a “cause” transforms the event itself, and radical jihadi terrorism disappears.

ISIS and Hamas operate in different places and pursue different strategies, but they draw from the same radical Islamist narrative that frames Jews as enemies and violence as religious duty.

Online, that narrative increasingly reaches the same audience: young people in Western societies, including young Muslims searching for identity and purpose.

In New York the consequences are already visible. According to the New York City Police Department, Jews consistently account for the largest share of hate crime victims in the city, far out of proportion to their share of the population.

We now face two related problems.

First, there is an ideology problem. Radical Islamist movements openly encourage violence against Western societies and portray Jews as enemies in a religious struggle.

Second, there is a sanitization problem. When that ideology is softened, blurred, or renamed as a “cause,” the public cannot see the pattern.

San Bernardino.
Orlando.
The Hudson River bike path.
Bombing attempt near Gracie Mansion.
Young people celebrating Muslim massacres of Jews.

A sick 60% of Americans aged 18-24 polled said the October 7 massacre was “justified,” 50% support Hamas, and 51% said Israel should end and be handed to Hamas

Different attacks with the same ideological current reaching the same young audience, and pointing toward the same enemies.

The violence makes headlines yet the ideology poisoning western youth is being whitewashed. That is jihadi-washing, and it endangers us all.

Perhaps It Is Time to Ask Israel What Two States Look Like

For decades the international community has insisted it already knew what a two-state solution should look like. The United Nations drew the parameters. Diplomats repeated the formula. Conferences were held. Resolutions were passed.

And tens of thousands of people died.

The problem may not be the idea of two states. The problem may be that the plan was written without the participation of the country expected to live beside that second state, after countless wars waged to eliminate it.

Israel accepted the concept of two states repeatedly. The Arab world rejected it outright in 1947 and chose war instead. For decades the objective was not coexistence but the elimination of the Jewish state “in any part of Palestine.

Only much later did some Palestinian leaders begin to speak about accepting two states. Even then the proposal contained a remarkable asymmetry: Arabs could potentially live in both Israel and a future Palestinian state while Jews would be barred from living in Palestine. Even under these terms, acceptance amongst the stateless Arabs from Palestine (SAPs) remained partial and fragile. Large segments of Palestinian society continued to reject the legitimacy of Israel itself.

War therefore continued.

The deeper flaw lay in the diplomatic architecture. The UN framework repeatedly demanded territorial concessions from Israel while simultaneously challenging the basic elements of Israeli sovereignty. The proposed Palestinian state would claim rights that no other neighboring state claims over another country, including constraints on Israel’s control over borders and immigration.

The Oslo Accords attempted to move the process forward through gradual autonomy. Palestinians gained control of Gaza, Area A of the West Bank, and some control in Area B. These territories were meant to become the early foundations of Palestinian self-governance and peaceful coexistence.

Instead they became platforms for continued war. Rockets came from Gaza. Terror networks operated openly in areas under Palestinian control. October 7 was simply the most brutal expression of a reality that had been building for years.

After October 7 it is difficult to imagine any Israeli government accepting the same international blueprint that guided diplomacy for the past thirty years.

Which raises a simple question that has never been asked: What would a two state solution designed by Israel actually look like?

For decades the world has demanded that Israel accept a state designed by others. When Israel raised concerns about security, sovereignty, or enforcement, those concerns were treated as obstacles to peace rather than as conditions necessary to achieve it.

Perhaps the time has come to reverse the process.

Instead of repeating a diplomatic formula that has failed repeatedly, the international community could ask Israel to define the conditions under which it could realistically accept a Palestinian state. Security arrangements, borders, governance standards, demilitarization, and phased recognition could all become part of a framework designed around coexistence rather than wishful thinking.

Whether the SAPs are willing to accept such conditions is a separate matter. Neither side ever fully accepted the UN blueprint. But continuing to impose a model that both parties reject has already produced decades of bloodshed.

Hashmonaim and separation barrier
Hashmonaim and separation barrier

The first fruits of Oslo were rotten. Continuing to plant the same tree will not produce a different harvest.

If the world truly wants two states living in peace, it may finally be time to ask the state expected to survive beside that new second state what peace actually requires.

The New York Times Calls the Massacre of Jews a “Cause”

Words matter. Especially when a newspaper chooses them carefully.

In a recent article, The New York Times wrote that New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s wife, Ms. Duwaji had “liked Instagram posts supportive of the Palestinian cause immediately after the attacks,” referring to October 7.

Read that sentence again.

October 7 was the largest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust. Hamas terrorists murdered about 1,200 people, raped women, burned families alive, and kidnapped 251 civilians.

Yet approval of posts celebrating that moment is described by the Times as support for a cause.

A cause sounds political. Principled. Even noble.

But immediately after October 7 the images circulating online were not debates about borders or statehood. They were videos of murdered Israelis, kidnapped civilians, and triumphant Hamas fighters.

Calling appreciation of those posts “support for the Palestinian cause” launders the meaning of the act. The language turns approval of atrocities into activism. And it did the spin repeatedly.

Then the article pivots.

The Times raises concerns about a Jewish congressman from New York because his wife had “liked or reposted” posts from right wing accounts that some people considered hateful or insensitive.

So approval of posts DIRECTLY ABOUT a terrorist massacre is softened, while a Jewish public official becomes controversial through a chain of ASSOCIATIONS.

One situation involves praise for the moment Jews were slaughtered. The other involves subjective offense. Yet the newspaper treats them as comparable.

And this pattern did not begin here.

For years the Times has regularly described Israel’s elected government as “the most right wing in its history,” a political judgment embedded in news reporting. At the same time, the paper often avoids stating a simple fact: Hamas is a U.S.-designated terrorist organization.

So the judgmental language is applied freely to Israel and the factual label is avoided for Hamas.

Frighteningly, the framing has sunk even lower. The New York Times has moved from absolving terrorists to sanctifying the antisemitic genocidal terror itself as a “cause.”

It is a moral inversion that reflects a deeper rot in how the story is being told.

And it arrives at a moment when hostility toward Jews is rising once again across the world, seemingly with the endorsement of The New York Times.

What $3 Billion a Year Buys

Every year, critics ask the same question about the roughly $3 billion in American military assistance to Israel. What does the United States get for it?

This week provided a reminder.

For decades that funding has supported joint missile defense systems, intelligence sharing, aircraft integration, cyber capabilities, and deep operational coordination between the two countries. American and Israeli militaries train together, build systems together, and prepare for the same threats.

The result is something unique in the Middle East.

The United States maintains major bases across the Gulf. American ships patrol the region. American aircraft fly from Qatar, Bahrain, and Kuwait. But the United States has no bases in Israel.

It does not need them.

Israel itself functions as one of America’s most capable strategic partners in the region. Its fighters, intelligence networks, cyber units, and missile defenses are deeply integrated with American systems and strategy.

When Washington faces a threat like Iran, Israel is already positioned on the front line. Already armed. Already aligned.

That alignment was built over decades. American assistance helped develop some of the most advanced missile defense systems in the world. Israeli intelligence cooperation has repeatedly protected American lives and interests. Joint technology programs have shaped modern air defense, battlefield awareness, and cyber security.

There are many countries that receive American aid. None return value like this.

Israel is the only country in the Middle East whose military doctrine, intelligence culture, and technological infrastructure are so closely integrated with that of the United States that they can effectively act as a unit to dismantle the military capabilities of the leading state sponsor of terrorism which has sworn to destroy both countries.

It is one of the most effective strategic investments the United States has ever made.

Religious Antisemitism and the Sniff-Necked Nation

There are many forms of antisemitism. This review is about religious antisemitism, specifically from Christians and Muslims.

As a clear disclaimer, not all Muslims or Christians hate Jews. Or the Jewish State. But there are undeniable fundamental differences in how religions perceive each other which are sometimes caustic.


The world often describes the three great monotheistic religions together: Judaism, Christianity and Islam. But lumping Jews with the other two faiths leads people to falsely put the three on the same plane. There are roughly 2.2 billion Christians and 2.0 billion Muslims today, compare to only 15 million Jews. To give the scale some perspective, if people of the three faiths were in a stadium, all the levels of half the stadium would be Christians while the other half would be Muslim, with Jews only wrapping the entrance portals for the players.

Christianity and Islam are global religions – they have brought their faith to the far corners of the world by sword and missionaries. But Judaism is more akin to a local tribal religion in Africa or South America. The faith is tied to a specific piece of land – the land of Israel. Jews do not seek to convert people or believe non-Jews are destined to eternal damnation unless they follow the same belief system.

When Muslims and Christians conquered / invaded / colonized the Americas and Africa, they believed they were helping people by spreading a faith the locals had never heard of. One cannot blame an Amazonian tribe for not believing in Jesus when they never heard of him. One cannot immediately hate the local African tribe for not believing in Mohammed when the name and faith were brand new.

But Christians and Muslims cannot say the same of Jews. Their faiths share a common history.

Jesus was a Jew who lived in the land of Israel. Mohammed was an Arab, a descendant of the same forefather Abraham who is also the forefather of Judaism.

For devout Christians and Muslims who feel that spreading their faith is integral to their belief – a form of religious supremacy – Jews are forever a stiff-necked people who refuse to join the global masses and appreciate the true prophets.

So how, when and why did the Jews become so stubborn?

In the biblical parsha of Ki Tisa, the Jewish nation was called a stiff-necked people several times – by God. When the people became worried that Moses had disappeared and made themselves a golden calf idol, God said to Moses:

“I have seen these people,” the Lord said to Moses, “and they are a stiff-necked people.” – Exodus 32:9

The Adoration of the Golden Calf by Nicolas Poussin (1594-1665)

The phrase is meant as a criticism that Jews cannot get out of their old habits and will not be able to adopt the new laws that God has set out for the nation. The phrase appears repeatedly, including:

  • “Go up to the land flowing with milk and honey. But I will not go with you, because you are a stiff-necked people and I might destroy you on the way.” – Exodus 33:3
  • For the Lord had said to Moses, “Tell the Israelites, ‘You are a stiff-necked people. If I were to go with you even for a moment, I might destroy you. Now take off your ornaments and I will decide what to do with you.’ – Exodus 33:5
  • “Lord,” he said, “if I have found favor in your eyes, then let the Lord go with us. Although this is a stiff-necked people, forgive our wickedness and our sin, and take us as your inheritance.” – Exodus 34:9

The last quote is from Moses to God, in which he uses the same language God invoked. But Moses argues that the trait should be and will be their salvation. He argues that they need more of God’s compassion than others because of their nature, and once they know God and learn the commandments, they will become affixed forever.

Just as the Jews were becoming a nation, God was worried about their stubborn nature, but Moses assured God that the same trait will make them a holy nation forever that deserved forgiveness and the promise of internal inheritance. That same stubborn trait has kept the Jews alive, distinct, and small, for thousands of years, an easy group to ignore or appreciate on a global scale, or a perpetual irritant for those who cannot enjoy humble faith, and demand religious superiority over this small ancient people.

Names and Narrative: Administered There. Occupied Here.

The choice of words reveals more than the facts.

In a recent article about Iranian influence among Shiite communities, The New York Times described Kashmir this way:

“Many Shiites live in Indian-administered Kashmir, a Muslim-majority Himalayan region with cultural ties to Iran that go back centuries.”

Pause for a moment and consider what is happening in that sentence.

The New York Times wrote about Kashmir in a manner totally different than how it writes about the West Bank

Kashmir is not a settled territory. It is one of the longest running territorial disputes in the world. Since 1947, the region has been fought over by India and Pakistan, with both claiming sovereignty and both controlling different portions of the territory.

Yet the phrasing chosen by the Times is calm and almost pastoral. Kashmir is “administered.” The Shiite population is described as having “cultural ties to Iran that go back centuries.” The wording conveys history, continuity, and legitimacy. It sounds organic, even inevitable.

Now compare that language with how the same newspaper routinely describes the territory known historically as Judea and Samaria, today commonly referred to as the West Bank.

There the language changes dramatically.

Israel does not “administer.” Israel “occupies.”

Jewish communities are rarely described as having ancient ties. Instead readers are told that settlements are new and “considered illegal by most countries.”

Notice what disappears in that framing. The region called the “West Bank” only since 1967, contains places that formed the very center of Jewish civilization for more than a millennium. Hebron, Bethlehem, and Shiloh appear throughout the Hebrew Bible and in continuous Jewish historical memory. The kingdoms of ancient Israel and Judah rose and fell in these hills long before modern states existed.

Before Islam existed.

In other words, if the standard applied to Kashmir were applied consistently, readers might encounter sentences like this:

“Many Jews live in Israeli-administered Area C in Judea and Samaria, a region with cultural and historical ties to the Jewish people that go back more than three thousand years.”

But that sentence never appears.

Instead, the history is compressed into the language of illegality and occupation, as if the Jewish connection to the land began in 1967 rather than in antiquity.

This is not merely semantic. Language frames legitimacy. When one disputed territory is described through the lens of administration and centuries-old cultural ties, while another is defined primarily through the vocabulary of occupation and illegality, readers absorb very different impressions of the conflict.

The facts on the ground may be complicated in both cases. Kashmir is disputed. So is the West Bank.

But journalism that claims neutrality should apply the same descriptive standards to both.

Otherwise the language itself becomes the argument.