This week, the UN will commemorate the genocide at Srebrenica under the theme “From Words to Violence.“ The lesson is that language is never merely language. The words societies choose shape how they understand people, history, and ultimately what actions become acceptable.
That lesson should not stop with Srebrenica.
Over the past month, another campaign of words has accelerated – not directly aimed at the destruction of lives, but at the erasure of history.
A month ago, I wrote about the battle over Solomon’s Pools. At the time, the concern was that one of Judaism’s great archaeological treasures was being detached from the people who built it.
Today, the campaign has moved far beyond stewardship.
The Palestinian Authority’s official news agency, WAFA, now repeatedly describes Solomon’s Pools as “Palestinian archaeological and heritage sites,” “Palestinian cultural heritage,” and “an integral part of the Palestinian people’s national identity.” It accuses Israel of attempting to erase the site’s Palestinian identity while announcing plans to seek UNESCO protection for that very narrative.
This is historical revisionism.
For more than two thousand years, Solomon’s Pools have been recognized as part of the ancient water system that supplied Jerusalem and the Second Temple. Yet the new narrative increasingly erases that Jewish history while attempting to replace it with a Palestinian Arab one.
That is how historical erasure begins, with words.
It continues with cultural appropriation – taking another civilization’s achievements and presenting them as one’s own. A site built to sustain Jewish Jerusalem is no longer described as part of Jewish civilization, but as an expression of “Palestinian national identity.”
Solomon’s Pools is not an isolated example.
Over the years, Palestinian rhetoric has increasingly described biblical figures and ancient Jewish sites through a Palestinian national lens.
The Jewish Temples are falsely described as being located in Yemen.
Ancient Jewish heritage sites have increasingly been recast as Palestinian heritage, such as the Jewish Temple Mount being only called the “al Aqsa Complex” and as a purely Islamic site to prevent Jews from praying at their holiest site.
Individually these statements may appear rhetorical. Collectively they reveal a sustained and malicious effort to replace one people’s historical memory with another’s national story.
When a people’s documented history is systematically erased, it reveals a bigotry directed not only against living Jews but against Jewish civilization itself. It reflects national chauvinism, elevating one national identity by absorbing the achievements of another.
And it does this with particular purpose: to strip Jews of their indigeneity in their holy land, to recast them as interlopers and “European settler colonizers” which is deeply infused with a righteous sense of xenophobia.
That is why UNESCO’s role matters.
An organization created to preserve humanity’s cultural heritage should never become an instrument of historical revisionism. If it legitimizes narratives that obscure the well-documented Jewish origins of sites like Solomon’s Pools, it is no longer merely protecting monuments. It is helping redefine what future generations believe those monuments represent.
Turkish media TRT lies to the world that Solomon’s Pools are a 6,000 year-old Canaanite site, as Palestinian Arabs have attempted to recast themselves as ancient Canaanites to pre-date the Jewish forefather Abraham
The danger is larger than a single archaeological site. Words are attempting to erase Jewish history and heritage throughout the Jewish homeland.
The United Nations is correct: words can lead to terrible consequences.
And these words and actions have a particularly dangerous strain of antisemitism. It does not involve attacking Jews physically, which Palestinian Arabs have done repeatedly at scale. It is an insidious attempt to get the world to endorse a narrative that Jews are foreigners in the land to frame a future without the Jewish State. This is the destruction and genocide that emerges from language.
When international institutions lend their authority to that process, they cease to be guardians of history and become participants in its erasure.
The train rolled quietly toward Tel Aviv, its rhythm broken only by the soft buzz of conversations and the glow of phone screens. Across from me sat two young soldiers. Their rifles rested casually against their legs while their attention was fixed on their cellphones – one scrolling through messages, the other smiling at a photo someone had sent. It was a striking image of modern Israel: a generation carrying both the tools of war and the ordinary routines of youth.
Israeli soldier with cellphone and gun (created by First One Through)
After two years of war, the sight no longer seemed unusual. Uniforms had become part of daily life. The soldiers were not isolated behind military bases; they were students, siblings and neighbors riding the same commuter trains as everyone else.
Stepping off at Tel Aviv’s HaShalom – “the Peace” – station, another reminder of the country’s debate awaited. Stickers were plastered on walls and signposts declaring, “גיוס שווה לכולם” – “The draft should be equal for everyone.” The slogan was impossible to miss. It reflected the growing frustration of many Israelis who believe military service should be shared by all citizens, particularly as the controversy over exemptions for many ultra-Orthodox men has intensified during a prolonged war.
Sticker on train station in Tel Aviv about the draft (created by First One Through)
From the station I walked up the street toward Sarona.
The mood shifted almost instantly. The urgency of the train gave way to quiet streets lined with restored nineteenth-century stone buildings, their green shutters and warm walls carefully preserved. Families strolled through the park, office workers carried coffee between meetings, and children played on the lawns.
Sarona, with its mix of old buildings and new skyscrapers (created by First One Through)
Rising above this tranquil scene were gleaming glass towers – headquarters of technology companies, investment firms and startups reaching into the Mediterranean sky. The contrast was remarkable. The old Templar colony had not been erased by progress; it had been woven into it. History remained at street level while the future climbed overhead.
From Sarona I continued west beneath long rows of jacaranda trees. The sidewalks were broad and shaded despite the afternoon heat. Cyclists glided silently along dedicated bike paths while dog walkers stopped to exchange greetings in Hebrew, English, French and Russian. The city moved at an easy rhythm, confident and unhurried.
Tel Aviv street winding its way from the train station to the beach (created by First One Through)
By the time I reached the Mediterranean, the sky had begun to soften into cooler shades of blue. A young woman played a steel drum near the promenade, the Caribbean melody drifting above the soft crash of the waves. Just up the gentle hill, an ultra-Orthodox man sat quietly, listening. His eyes wandered beyond the music toward the sailboats slowly crossing the horizon, their sails turning black against the fading sun.
As darkness approached, I turned back toward my hotel. Along the route, fresh rails stretched down the center of the boulevard. Fences, construction equipment and unfinished stations marked the slow progress of Tel Aviv’s expanding light rail. The war had left its mark here, as many Israeli construction workers had been called into reserve duty, while restrictions on Palestinian Arab workers entering Israel had reduced another important source of labor. Even in a city racing toward the future, history and security continued to shape the speed of ordinary life.
Tel Aviv’s light rail under construction (created by First One Through)
Night settled over the White City. Above the Bauhaus facades and surprisingly green parks, a deep red crescent moon hung low before slipping toward the Mediterranean. It seemed a fitting end to the day. Tel Aviv is often celebrated for its beaches, cafés and nightlife, yet what lingered most was something less obvious: a city where soldiers and software engineers share commuter trains, where old stone houses stand beside glass towers, where debates over duty appear on stickers at the station, and where, despite the burdens of war, people still ride bicycles beneath leafy boulevards toward the sea as both sun and moon set over Israel.
Red crescent moon sets over Tel Aviv (created by First One Through)
The next morning I woke before dawn, courtesy of jet lag. It was barely five o’clock, and rather than fight the early hour, I headed outside and walked toward the beach, turning south in the direction of Jaffa.
The city was just beginning to stir.
On a grassy stretch above the promenade, a group of women had gathered for morning exercise. Jews and Arabs stretched side by side as the first rays of sunlight crept across the lawn. No one seemed interested in the differences that so often dominate headlines. At that hour, they were simply neighbors greeting another day.
Jewish and Arab women stretching above Tel Aviv’s beach at daybreak (created by First One Through)
The rising sun appeared between the towers, casting long golden reflections across the sea. As I continued south, I crossed the invisible boundary where Tel Aviv gradually becomes Jaffa. There is no wall, no gate, no sign announcing the transition. Modern boulevards slowly yield to older stone buildings until, ahead, the ancient hill of Jaffa emerged from the morning haze.
Sunrise over Tel Aviv-Jaffa (created by First One Through)
The old city looked timeless. Its limestone walls glowed honey-gold beneath the rising sun, church towers rising above clusters of palms that have watched merchants, pilgrims and conquerors arrive for centuries. Behind me stretched one of the world’s youngest major cities; before me stood one of its oldest. Few places compress four thousand years into a morning walk.
Old City of Jaffa (created by First One Through)
Yet the promenade is also a walk through painful memory.
Every few hundred yards another monument interrupts the rhythm of the sea. A simple memorial recalls the Altalena, the tragic 1948 confrontation in which the fledgling Jewish state nearly fractured before it had fully been born. Farther along stands the memorial to the Dolphinarium bombing, where a Palestinian Arab suicide attack murdered young people waiting to enter a beachfront nightclub, freezing forever what should have been an ordinary summer evening.
The newest memorials are not carved in stone. They are printed on paper.
Walls, bus stops and utility boxes are covered with hundreds of stickers bearing the faces of young men and women killed since the October 7 massacre and the war that followed. Some are soldiers, others are civilians. Each bears a photograph, a name and often a brief message from family or friends. Individually they are easy to pass without notice. Together they form an unofficial memorial stretching across the city, reminding everyone that the smiling faces should still be walking these same streets.
Stickers of young people who were killed in the Iranian proxy war against Israel (created by First One Through)
Turning back toward my hotel, I watched the city awaken.
At first there were only a handful of runners. Then another dozen. Within minutes the promenade had become a river of joggers moving north and south along the shoreline. Cyclists moved passed them in dedicated lanes while the Mediterranean rolled steadily against the seawall. The volleyball courts still stood empty, their nets waiting for the first matches of the day.
Despite the hundreds of people already enjoying the morning, security remained almost invisible. The only uniformed officers I encountered were two young policewomen sitting beside their patrol car, laughing as they leaned together to take a selfie. It was another reminder that life here is lived in layers. A country still at war. A city that had known rockets and sirens. Yet on this morning, two officers paused, like young people anywhere else, to capture a moment with a cellphone.
Policewomen taking a selfie in Tel Aviv (created by First One Through)
As I approached my hotel, another juxtaposition caught my eye. Apartment balconies facing the street served as tiny windows into the lives of their occupants. On one balcony hung a rainbow Pride flag. Just a window away fluttered a yellow Chabad Moshiach flag, proclaiming hope for the coming of the Messiah. In many places, those symbols might be seem irreconcilable. The flags did not suggest agreement but coexistence. The residents likely disagreed about politics, religion and the future of Israeli society. Yet neither had torn down the other’s banner. The building itself had become a quiet lesson in democratic life.
Pride flag and Moshiach flag hang together facing the Tel Aviv beach (created by First One Through)
Back at the hotel, breakfast was every bit as impressive as the Mediterranean outside the windows. Fresh salads, nuts, cheeses, shakshuka, breads still warm from the oven, amazing fruit, squares of halva and strong Israeli coffee made lingering far too tempting.
Eventually, I pushed away from the table and traded dawn’s leisurely pace for another walk, this time inland.
In barely forty minutes, the sea breeze gave way to glass towers, venture capital offices and the headquarters of companies whose software, artificial intelligence, cybersecurity and communications products are used around the world. The transformation was remarkable. One moment I was watching paddleboarders on the Mediterranean; the next I was surrounded by one of the world’s great technology hubs. Tel Aviv’s reputation as the “Startup Nation” is not an abstract slogan. It is a city where people can begin the morning watching the sunrise by the sea and arrive at meetings shaping the future before most cities have finished their commute.
Part of the Tel Aviv skyline near the train station (created by First One Through)
After the day’s meetings, I made the walk back toward the coast. The beach had transformed once again.
The jogging dawn promenade had given way to the rhythm of a summer afternoon. The surf clubs were busy, rows of brightly colored boards stacked outside while paddleboards waited for the next calm outing. A sign pointing toward the nearest bomb shelter hung beside the entrance, blending almost unnoticed into the scene.
Paddleboards for rent at Tel Aviv beach (created by First One Through)
The unmistakable crack of matkot echoed across the sand – the sharp wooden sound of paddle meeting ball, as much a part of an Israeli beach as the waves themselves. Surfers searched for the best breaks while others stood atop paddleboards gliding across the calm Mediterranean. Families spread towels across the sand. Friends settled into circles, talking for hours, absentmindedly cracking open sunflower seeds and dropping the shells into cups which had been drained of beer, as the afternoon slowly slipped toward evening.
After showering off the salt, I headed back into the city for dinner.
Tel Aviv has quietly become one of the world’s great food cities.
Its chefs draw inspiration from every corner of Jewish history and the Mediterranean – Galilean vegetables, Persian spices, North African traditions, Yemenite breads and European techniques – all combined with remarkable creativity. Restaurants that would command attention in New York, London or Paris line streets that only a generation ago were known more for falafel than fine dining.
One change particularly fascinated me.
Not long ago, many ambitious chefs viewed kosher certification as a limitation. Today, more and more of the city’s finest restaurants proudly operate under kosher supervision. The change has been driven as much by economics as religion. As Israel’s high-tech economy expanded, so too did a generation of young Modern Orthodox professionals – engineers, entrepreneurs, venture capitalists and lawyers – who wanted exceptional dining without compromising Jewish dietary law. Restaurants discovered that serving remarkable food and remaining kosher were no longer competing ideas. In many neighborhoods, they had become a winning combination.
Dvora Restaurant on Ben Yehuda St. in Tel Aviv (created by First One Through)
Leaving Tel Aviv, I found myself thinking less about any single building or beach than about the extraordinary coexistence of opposites. Here, memory lives beside innovation. Faith shares walls with secular life. War intrudes, but never fully defines the city. Every morning begins with people running toward the sea rather than away from fear.
Perhaps that is Tel Aviv’s greatest contradiction. It has not escaped history’s burdens. It simply refuses to allow them to define the city. Despite carrying them every day, Tel Aviv has become one of the world’s most vibrant, creative and optimistic places to live.
Long before the current war began, prominent advocates for the Palestinian cause were describing Gaza as “hell on earth.”
In January 2009, Palestinian Queen Rania of Jordan released a video for UNRWA titled “Hell on Earth.” Eight months later, speaking at UNRWA’s 60th anniversary, she recalled that video and lamented that Gaza was still “Hell on Earth.”
Palestinian Queen of Jordan Rania called Gaza “Hell on Earth” in 2009
In May 2021, UN Secretary-General António Guterres declared, “If there is a hell on earth, it is the lives of children in Gaza today.”
When Israel began to respond to the war waged by Gazans in 2023, UNRWA Commissioner-General Philippe Lazzarini said Gaza had become “a living hell.” In January 2024, UN humanitarian coordinator Sigrid Kaag told the Security Council, “Gaza is hell on earth.”
The description has been remarkably consistent. What has often been missing is the question: Why?
Hell is not merely a place of suffering. It is a place where evil reigns.
Hamas violently seized Gaza in 2007 after defeating Fatah in a brief but brutal civil war. Fighters executed political rivals, threw some from rooftops, publicly brutalized opponents, and dragged the bodies of alleged collaborators through the streets. Those who challenged Hamas risked imprisonment, torture, or death. Independent political life disappeared, and an entire generation grew up under the rule of an armed Islamist movement that prioritized rockets, tunnels, and perpetual conflict over building a prosperous society.
Hamas drags a disloyal Gazan through the streets to his death
And Hamas was a known entity, a political party which won 56% of Palestinian parliament in elections with the most antisemitic political charter ever written. It remains the most popular political group to this day, expected to win Palestinian elections in every poll.
Calling Gaza “hell on earth” without acknowledging who built that system leaves the story unfinished. Should people want to transform the region, they must work to end the evil rule and worldview that turned part of the holy land into such a place in the first place.
Outside the Jaffa Gate in Jerusalem, the day unfolds with layers of complexity. The stone walls, ancient and storied, bear witness to the lives that pass through.
On this morning, an Arab man stands near the portal entrance, his posture slumped, eyes lowered. His expression speaks of a quiet sorrow—perhaps personal, perhaps born of circumstances beyond his control.
Picture amalgam of four different scenes, presenting a view of the entry portal of the Jaffa Gate in Jerusalem, Israel (by First One Through)
Meanwhile, just feet away, an Orthodox Jewish man, dressed in traditional black attire, moves with purpose. He hurries toward his daily prayers at the Kotel, following a routine as old as the stones beneath his feet. The rhythm of Jerusalem’s life, with its sacred moments, continues without pause.
Standing between them is a medic from Magen David Adom. His presence is a testament to the tension that often simmers beneath the surface of the city. He watches both men—attentive, calm, ready to act if needed. His role is not in the realm of politics or faith but in the safeguarding of human life.
This moment encapsulates the juxtaposition of daily routines—spiritual devotion, personal struggle, and the ever-present readiness to heal. In Jerusalem, where layers of history meet contemporary reality, even the quietest scene can tell a deeper story.
Much of the discussion about Israel’s security focuses on borders, settlements, or ceasefires. Less attention is paid to a more fundamental reality: Israel is surrounded by governments that have failed – or have yet to demonstrate they can function as sovereign states.
To Israel’s north lies Lebanon, a country where the government spent years unable to enforce a monopoly on force within its own territory. While the Lebanese Army wore the national uniform, Hezbollah built an independent army, amassed an enormous missile arsenal, dug tunnels, launched drones, and ultimately dragged the country into war. A sovereign state that cannot control its own territory has surrendered one of the defining responsibilities of statehood.
Lebanese pound to Israeli shekel exchange rate, defaulting on debt in March 2020, enormous explosion in Beirut for stored Hezbollah weapons in August 2020. The bank devalued currency by 90% in February 2023 and again in February 2024
Next to Lebanon is Syria. More than a decade of civil war shattered the country’s institutions, fractured its territory among competing armed groups and foreign militaries, and left millions displaced. Syria has long stood as one of the clearest examples of state failure in the modern Middle East.
Syrian civil war killed nearly 600,000 and dispersed 13 million. It is now ruled by Abu Mohammad al-Jolani who headed ISIS in the region
To Israel’s south lies Gaza. Hamas spent years and billions of dollars to build an underground military fortress instead of a functional society. The result was war after war after war. Destruction and death.
Hamas on October 7, 2023 slaughtered 1,200 people in Israel and brought over 250 people as hostages into Gaza to cheering crowds.
In the West Bank, the picture is different but equally troubling. The Palestinian Authority maintains civil institutions in parts of the territory, yet it has never established a monopoly on force or unified governance. Rival armed factions continue to operate, political legitimacy remains deeply contested, and governance has been divided from Gaza for nearly two decades.
The collapse of governance in the states surrounding Israel has turned the region into one of the world’s greatest concentrations of terrorist groups. This is the strategic reality Israel faces every day.
Its neighbors are not peaceful democracies with settled borders and accountable institutions. They are governments weakened by civil war, dominated by militias, or unable to establish unified authority. Israel is repeatedly asked to take security risks on the assumption that these entities will prevent terrorism and enforce agreements, even though their recent history demonstrates the opposite.
The tragedy is not only Israel’s. The greatest victims of failed governance are the Lebanese, Syrians, and Stateless Arabs from Palestine (SAPs) themselves. They deserve governments that build economies instead of militias, schools instead of tunnels, courts instead of armed factions, and national institutions instead of perpetual conflict.
Peace agreements are negotiated between states because states can make commitments and enforce them. Militias cannot. Failed governments cannot. A failed state in waiting cannot.
Until the governments surrounding Israel control their territory, uphold the rule of law, and prioritize their people over perpetual conflict, Israel’s security challenges will remain the consequence of failed governance, not simply hostile neighbors.
Human rights organizations earn credibility by applying the same principles to everyone. The moment they tell only half the story, they cease to document conflict and begin shaping a narrative.
That has been the history of Amnesty International‘s sole focus on Israel as it fights a multifront war. It showed why it deserves no support again this week as it took aim on Israel’s fight against Hezbollah, the Iranian proxy terrorist group inside Lebanon.
The report argues that a proposed ceasefire agreement could deny Lebanese victims an avenue to pursue justice for alleged Israeli war crimes. Astonishingly absent from Amnesty’s presentation is the war that made the agreement necessary in the first place and justice for Israeli victims.
There is virtually no discussion of Hezbollah’s decision to begin attacking Israel on October 8, 2023, opening a second front one day after the Hamas massacre. There is no meaningful discussion of the years Hezbollah spent building an armed state within a state in southern Lebanon despite international commitments to disarm. There is no recognition that Israeli towns endured months of rockets, missiles and drones, forcing tens of thousands of civilians from their homes. Instead, 98 percent of the focus is on alleged Israeli violations and on preserving legal avenues to prosecute Israel.
Perspective matters.
Imagine writing about the Second World War while barely mentioning who invaded whom. Or discussing a peace agreement without explaining why civilians had to flee their homes on both sides of the border. A report that omits the conflict’s central facts cannot claim to provide a complete moral picture.
Even when Hezbollah is mentioned, it is a single sentence in passing. The sustained campaign against Israeli communities, the human cost borne by Israeli civilians, and Hezbollah’s own violations of the laws of war receive scant attention compared with the extensive treatment of allegations against Israel.
Perhaps the clearest indication of how this report is perceived came not from Israel, but from Hezbollah’s own media ecosystem.
Al-Manar, Hezbollah’s media network, prominently highlighted the report’s conclusions.
When the propaganda outlet of a terrorist group that initiated the northern front eagerly amplifies your work, it is time to confront the reality that your organization no longer serves the cause of universal human rights.
On June 27, 1976, Palestinian terrorists hijacked Air France Flight 139, a civilian airliner traveling from Tel Aviv to Paris. The operation by the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine‘s external operations network diverted the aircraft to Entebbe, Uganda, where the hijackers, aided by Idi Amin’s regime, held more than one hundred civilians hostage while demanding the release of imprisoned terrorists.
Then came the moment that revealed the deeper nature of the conflict.
The hijackers separated Israeli and non-Israeli Jewish passengers from the rest of those on board. Many other passengers were eventually released. The Israelis and Jews remained in captivity.
Had nationality been the only issue, non-Israeli Jews would have been released alongside the other foreign passengers. Instead, Jewish identity itself became grounds for continued imprisonment. The selection demonstrated that the target extended beyond the State of Israel to the Jewish people themselves. Decades after the Holocaust, Jewish civilians once again found themselves sorted from their fellow passengers because they were Jews.
The crimes committed during the hijacking were numerous. Palestinian terrorists seized a civilian aircraft, held innocent men, women and children hostage, threatened mass murder to secure political concessions, and singled out Jews for continued captivity. Three hostages died during the Israeli rescue operation, and Dora Bloch, an elderly Jewish hostage who had been taken to a hospital in Kampala, was later murdered by Ugandan authorities.
Hostages saved from Palestinian terrorists in Entebbe Airport, Uganda, July 4, 1976
Palestinian terrorists and their sympathizers have often come for non-Israeli Jews. Synagogues and Jewish community centers were attacked in cities far removed from the Middle East battlefield. Rome. Athens. Istanbul. Hezbollah and Iran often acted in support of Palestinian Arabs, just as they have since October 7, 2023.
Palestinian Arab opened fire in the Great Synagogue in Rome, Italy October, 1982, killing a 2-year old and wounding 37
And the Palestinian Arabs don’t hide it. The 1988 Hamas Charter is not simply a terrorist manifesto, but a deeply antisemitic one. Palestinians voted Hamas to 56% of parliament with such screed and continue to vote for the group over Fatah in every poll.
Fifty years ago, on July 4, 1976, the Israeli Defense Forces saved over 100 Israeli and non-Israeli Jews who were held hostage by terrorists. The rescue operation only killed Ugandan soldiers and the terrorists themselves – no Ugandan nor Gazan civilian was harmed.
Libya: “Israel’s wanton aggression is a serious and grave crime against international law.”
Benin: “act of aggression committed by Israel against Uganda.”
Somalia: “Israel’s flagrant aggression against the sovereignty and territorial integrity of Uganda.”
Cuba: “The action of Israel… unquestionably constitutes a flagrant violation of the basic provisions of the United Nations Charter.”
Mauritius: “act of aggression.”
Pakistan: “the Council should demand that compensation for the great loss of life and property caused by the Israeli action be paid to Uganda.”
Mauritania, sponsored the complaint on behalf of the African Group.
“the Western Powers have manifested a racist and fanatic solidarity with the white minority settlement in Palestine. For them, the Israeli aggression merely demonstrated a highly successful operation performed by the white man against the blacks of Africa and against the browns of the Arab lands -against the blacks and the browns of another and hostile world, that of the Arab-African community.” – Libya regarding Israeli rescue of 100+ hostages held by Palestinian Arabs in Uganda
The total populations of Uganda and the countries above is roughly 373 million. The Jewish population in all of these countries combined is under 5,000, 0.001%. They are unwelcome and unwanted.
Wheelchair-bound, 69-year old American Leon Klinghoffer, killed by Palestinian terrorists October 8, 1985
Palestinian Arabs and their supporters in the Global South are ingrained with a deeply hostile view of Jews and the Global North. The latest manifestation has been seen since the barbaric attacks of October 7, 2023, but can be seen just as clearly fifty years ago, when Israel rescued other Jewish hostages.
Words do more than describe reality. They shape it.
Few phrases demonstrate this better than questioning or supporting “Israel’s right to exist.”
At first glance, it sounds like a reasonable principle. Until one pauses to think about it. It is a question asked of no other nation. Countries are criticized for their policies or leaders. Their continued existence is not routinely presented as a subject for debate.
The issue is not whether Israel has a right to exist. The issue is whether people support destroying an existing country, specifically, destroying the only Jewish State.
While Holocaust Survivors are still alive to recount the horror of the genocide of one-third of world Jewry, people discuss the destruction of Jews in their homeland where nearly half of world Jewry resides.
It is an abomination.
And the irony is that the unresolved question of statehood is not Israel’s; it is Palestine’s.
Israel declared independence in 1948 and has been a member of the United Nations ever since. The Palestinians declared the State of Palestine in 1988, and while many countries have recognized that declaration, neither the United States nor Israel has done so. Further, Palestine is not a full member state of the United Nations. Palestine still fails to meet many of the basic criteria for statehood.
If there is a legitimate debate about a state’s existence, it concerns whether a Palestinian state should be established. After the October 7 massacre, the abduction of civilians, and the persistence of violent extremism and antisemitism within Palestinian society, many people argue that recognition of Palestinian statehood should depend on profound political and cultural change.
Instead, the narrative has been inverted. And weaponized. Rather than asking whether yet another Arab and Muslim state should be created under present circumstances, the debate is reframed as whether the one existing Jewish state has a “right to exist.”
The “right to exist” narrative should be placed squarely on Palestine, not Israel. And the current verdict is not positive.
Most people think UNRWA exists to care for Palestinian refugees until a Palestinian state is created.
Not so.
If that were its purpose, its schools, healthcare, and social services would have gradually been transferred to the Palestinian Authority as Palestinian self-government expanded these past many years, especially in the “West Bank” / East of the 1949 Armistice Lines.
UNRWA’s mission would shrink as Palestinian institutions grew stronger. Instead, UNRWA has remained a permanent parallel system that continues to grow every year.
Unlike every other refugee agency in the world, UNRWA passes refugee status across generations, creating an ever-growing population of registered refugees. That population’s political claim is not to a future Palestinian state, but to a claimed so-called “right of return” to towns in Israel.
That distinction is critical.
A “two-state solution” is based on two peoples exercising self-determination in two states. A mass movement of millions of Arabs who never lived in Israel into Israel would produce 1.5 states for Arabs and 0.5 states for Jews. Further, stripping Israel of its right to determine who gets to enter its country means it doesn’t have basic sovereignty.
While UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres claims that “UNRWA is a stabilizing force” it is precisely the opposite. As he urges the world to fund the immoral project, he lies that the agency is the force for “countering the hopelessness that can fuel insecurity.”
UNRWA has fed the lie that – and demands that it will continue to exist until – 6 million Arabs will move into Israel. Such mission is precisely opposite the goal of an Arab and Jewish state living in coexistence.
At its core, UNRWA is a political organization that negates Israel’s sovereignty, cloaked as a humanitarian organization. If the goal is truly a Palestinian state living alongside Israel, then UNRWA must be closed permanently as well as the discussion of a so-called “right of return” .
A friend noticed I had attended the JNS International Policy Summit in Jerusalem and asked if it was worthwhile.
I paused. “That’s actually a harder question than it sounds. I have too many thoughts for a text message.”
This article is my answer.
The event. Alex Traiman, CEO of JNS, and Richard Heideman, Chairman of the JNS International Policy Summit, assembled an impressive three-day program. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, President Isaac Herzog, U.S. Ambassador Mike Huckabee, the “Green Prince” Mosab Hassan Yousef and dozens of leading policymakers, legal experts and advocates discussed nearly every dimension of Israel’s current challenges.
Topics: The summit covered twelve main topics with a few breakaway panels for each so people could listen to various subjects. It covered everything from antisemitism and regional security to international law, Judea and Samaria, Israel’s democracy, Christian-Israel relations and the narrative war playing out across traditional and social media.
JNS panel discussion on Regional Security
What makes a conference worthwhile? Many conferences share the discussions online – as did JNS – so people often question the value of devoting so much time to listening to so many speakers. I usually attend conferences to become energized and to meet like-minded people. That has been my experience at Tikvah events in New York, for example. I will share that it was not my feeling at this JNS conference.
For one thing, the attendees here were much more engaged in politics professionally than at a Tikvah Leadership Conference. Most of the people at the Waldorf Astoria knew everyone on the panels, worked with them and could have joined any of the discussions. It felt like the crowd was full of understudies ready to assume an empty chair on stage, or ready to have working sessions in side rooms. It made talking to fellow attendees extremely interesting for anyone looking to fully engage in the various subject matters.
However, the vibe of the Jerusalem News Syndicate conference was much more right-wing than I had anticipated. I had thought of JNS as simply an alternative to AP and Reuters, providing an Israeli perspective on the news. While I expected it to be right-of-center, I was surprised at how many deeply right-wing people were both speakers and attendees.
Two Themes:Trump-Iran/Lebanon: The backdrop for the event must be set, as events in the Middle East move quickly.
At the time of the conference, June 21-23, it appeared that the Trump Administration was striking a deal with Iran that was viewed by the speakers as profoundly weak regarding Iran, and deeply flawed as it related to Israel’s war with Hezbollah. Speakers went out of their way to say how much they love Donald Trump and Israel could never ask for a better friend, so such a skilled negotiator obviously just needed to buy time through July 4 celebrations and the World Cup, and would then return to finishing the Iranian nuclear and ballistic threats. Speakers avoided smearing Vice President JD Vance in public, but the quiet discussions near the cookies in the hallway were that they would like to see Marco Rubio as the president after Trump.
The opinions were definitely hawkish: Israel needs to maintain a buffer in Lebanon until Hezbollah is disarmed and terrorist infrastructure is removed. The same format is required in Gaza for Hamas. Iran must continue to be attacked until a long-term favorable deal can be struck.
It was interesting to hear how the various speakers thought of the regimes and people in each theater: In Iran, the government is horrible and must be removed while the people are intelligent and wonderful allies-in-waiting. Hezbollah is a rogue Iranian proxy that must be expunged so Israel can develop a long-term peace with the legitimate government of Lebanon. However, the situation in Gaza had no rainbow at the end. While the determination to finish Hamas and disarm it was viewed as non-negotiable, the prognosis for peace with everyday Gazans was viewed as so distant in the future to not even warrant near-term discussions.
Antisemitism/ Narrative: The “eighth front” of the current war is sometimes referred to as the narrative war in the global media and social media by Netanyahu. I believe Israel’s deteriorating image around the world has fueled antisemitism, even if hostility toward Israel and hatred of Jews ultimately remain distinct phenomena.
Michal Cotler-Wunsh, CEO of the International Legal Forum, called “October 7 the Kristallnacht of our times” that will ultimately “come for all democracies.” Lori Lowenthal Marcus of the Deborah Project said that “teacher unions are like the Hamas tunnels in American education,” part of an insidious infrastructure that systemically vilifies Israel. David Brog of the Maccabee Task Force suggested bringing social media influencers to Israel to see the truth, and that those people will become strong advocates when they realize that they’ve been fed lies for years. Miss Israel, Melanie Shiraz suggested changing the entire dynamic: to engage in sports, cultural events and other places where people engage directly in a common arena. “Let them see Israel, not as an argument to be won but a beauty to be shared…. Not with better corrections but better invitations.”
Sara Friedman, CEO WJC Israel; Lori Lowenthal Marcus, Legal Director of the Deborah Project; David Brog, Executive Director of Macabee task Force, and Elan Carr, CEO Israeli-American Council
She received one of only a handful of standing ovations.
So, was the JNS International Policy Summit worthwhile?
Yes, but not for the reason I expected.
The speeches were informative, and many are available online for anyone willing to invest the time. What cannot be livestreamed are the conversations over lunch, the chance encounters in the hallway, and the immersion in an ecosystem of people who have dedicated their lives to defending Israel and Jews in ways most of us never see. Some fight in courtrooms. Others rewrite school textbooks, monitor the United Nations, expose campus antisemitism, advocate for terror victims, build alliances with Christians, or wage the daily battle for truth on social media.
Miss Israel, Melanie Shiraz, surprised the crowd with passionate advocacy for greater cultural exchanges and received a standing ovation
Like any gathering of passionate people, I did not agree with everyone. Some speakers left me inspired; others left me shaking my head. But perhaps that is part of the value of attending in person. A conference is not worthwhile because it confirms everything you already believe. It is worthwhile because it exposes you to the people, personalities, and competing ideas that shape a movement.
The summit reminded me that the defense of Israel and Jewish people around the world is no longer just the work of soldiers and diplomats. It is also carried by lawyers, educators, journalists, researchers, politicians, influencers, and ordinary citizens who understand that ideas, narratives, and public opinion have become battlefields of their own.
That, more than any individual panel, was the lasting lesson I brought home from Jerusalem.
