Category Archives: Jews

The Losers’ Echo of the Six Day War

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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)

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

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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 Mateen, 29, 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.

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

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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.

Religious Antisemitism and the Sniff-Necked Nation

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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.

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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.

New York Times Shows How To Mainstream Antisemitism

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Michelle Goldberg, an opinion columnist for The New York Times, wrote a piece called “How Israel Lost America,” which made it sound like a country actively did something to turn Americans on it. She wrote:

“Conspiracy theories about Israel manipulating America into another Middle Eastern conflict are bound to flourish, especially because there will be a grain of truth to them.”

Pause there.

The claim that Israel manipulates America into war is not new. It echoes dual loyalty accusations against Jews who support Israel. It echoes the suspicion of hidden influence. It echoes the charge that Jews entangle great powers in foreign conflicts.

To say such conspiracies will flourish is observation.
To say they contain “a grain of truth” is validation.

That sentence does not merely predict antisemitic rhetoric. It lends it credibility.

The column builds toward that moment.

Goldberg wrote:

“Israel, by behaving appallingly and then trying to silence any condemnation of its appalling behavior as antisemitic, gives ammunition to Jew haters.”

Israel behaves appallingly – seemingly against America’s values and/or interests – and then pulls out the antisemitism card to try to silence critics, and that combination arms the Jew haters.

The causal arrow points away from the antisemite and toward the Jewish state. Hatred becomes consequence. Antisemitism becomes reaction. And it becomes so, because Israel itself decided to flag it, not the Jew hater.

To give credence to her theory, Goldberg quotes Jeremy Ben-Ami of the left-wing group J Street, warning of “blowback” when antisemitism is invoked in political disputes:

“You’re going to get some blowback against the people doing that.”

Again, antisemitism is framed as backlash. The focus shifts from the existence of anti-Jewish hostility to whether Jews and Israel are provoking it.

Layer these claims together and the pattern emerges:

Israel behaves badly.
Antisemitism claims are overused.
Blowback follows.
Conspiracies flourish.
There is “a grain of truth.”

The article never touches upon the truth of Gazans slaughtering Jews. The column doesn’t write about the antisemitic genocidal Hamas Charter. Goldberg doesn’t discuss the anti-Israel mobs in America celebrating the slaughter of elderly Jews, raping of Jewish women, and the burning of Jewish families alive. Other than to validate their feelings.

But the most consequential move in the column is quieter.

Israelis are discussed in ways readers instinctively map onto Jews. Israeli Arabs are transformed into “Israel’s Palestinian citizenry”, separating them rhetorically from the category of “Israelis.” Roughly a quarter of Israel’s citizens are not Jewish, yet that demographic fact disappears from the frame. Israeli Arabs are no longer part of the “Israel” that is “losing America” because they are really part of the counterparty in the war. That means that only Israeli Jews are the problem. The contrast is especially stark as the world cannot conceive of a “Palestinian Jew.”

The result is a subtle transformation. The conflict shifts from a dispute between a sovereign state (Israel) and a national movement (Stateless Arabs from Palestine, SAPs, seeking a new state) into something older and more volatile: Jews versus non-Jews in the Middle East.

Once that transformation occurs, every Israeli policy becomes Jewish policy. Every American alignment becomes Jewish influence. The state and the people fuse.

Now return to the “grain of truth.”

If Israel has already been rhetorically collapsed into Jews, then the suggestion that conspiracies about Israeli manipulation contain truth does not land on a neutral government. It lands on a people historically accused of secret power.

This is how respectable language normalizes ancient suspicions. The words are measured. The tone is analytic. The effect is corrosive.

Criticizing Netanyahu is legitimate. Opposing war is legitimate. Debating American foreign policy is legitimate. People do it all of the time about leaders and policy for all countries all over the world.

Yet people don’t turn the vile behavior of Iran into criticism of all Muslims. People don’t say Catholics run the drug cartels of Colombia, where a greater percentage of the country is Catholic than Israel is Jewish. People do not make people of faith the subject, unless it’s Jews.

Framing antisemitism as a foreseeable reaction to Israel’s – which we are informed should be read as “Jews'” – conduct while granting partial legitimacy to manipulation conspiracies crosses a line. And it leads to a public that no longer wants to combat antisemitism, as it has become conditioned to rationalize the ancient hatred.

The Long Shadow of 1492

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In a sharp escalation of transatlantic tensions, U.S. President Donald Trump announced that the United States will “cut off all trade with Spain”, publicly castigating the Spanish government for refusing to allow U.S. military bases on its soil to be used in operations linked to strikes against the Islamic Republic of Iran and for what he termed Spain’s failure to contribute sufficiently to NATO defense spending. Trump declared that he “doesn’t want anything to do with Spain,” framing the dispute as a response to Madrid’s resistance to what he described as confronting evil in the Middle East and paying its fair share for collective defense. 

What follows is not about this immediate crisis. It’s about deeper historical currents that help explain some of the underlying dynamics in Spanish public life that stretch back to the fifteenth century and still matter today.

In Western Europe outside Scandinavia and the United Kingdom, the two countries with the smallest Jewish presence relative to population are Spain and Portugal (about 0.02% of each countries’ overall populations).

That is not a statistical curiosity. It is a civilizational fact.

Five centuries ago, the Iberian Peninsula expelled its Jews. What had been one of the great centers of Jewish life vanished over a five and a half year short window. The Alhambra Decree in 1492 ordered practicing Jews out of Spain. Portugal followed with forced conversions and the Inquisition. Open Jewish life disappeared. What had been woven into the intellectual, commercial, and spiritual fabric of the peninsula was purged.

And it stayed removed.

Unlike other parts of Western Europe where Jewish communities, even after catastrophe, remained visible and rebuilt, Iberia entered the modern era with almost no Jews at all. Medieval synagogues became churches, then museums. Sephardic music became heritage. Jewish quarters became tourist sites. The living community remained tiny.

Fast forward to the present.

In Spain, large protests erupt over the Israeli-Stateless Arabs from Palestine (SAPs) conflict. Municipal councils pass symbolic measures aligned with boycotts. Parliament debates recognition of Palestine. Streets fill with Palestinian flags while graffiti targets Israel.

Anti-Israel graffiti on Barcelona street in March 2026 (photo: First One Through)

In Portugal, while public demonstrations are generally smaller, political and diplomatic critiques of Israeli policy align with broader European debates.

And yet.

There are no comparable national protest cultures around Sudan. No sustained marches over Somalia. No municipal votes over Afghanistan. Iran’s repression and mass slaughter of its citizens cannot find a sympathetic voice in Iberian plazas, and the Rohingya tragedy never became a regular mobilizing cause.

The difference is not just geopolitical proximity or media cycles. It is structural.

Germany, by contrast, carries the Holocaust in living memory. Its leaders speak of Israel’s security as part of state responsibility. Jewish life is visible, rebuilt, acknowledged. The past is recent enough to shape policy language. The moral vocabulary is immediate.

Spain does not carry that twentieth-century reckoning. Its rupture with Jewish life occurred in 1492, so there is no generational memory of deportation trains. The story of Jews is medieval, not modern.

When a society has lived five hundred years without Jews, when Jewish presence is primarily historical exhibit rather than daily reality, does Israel become easier to turn into abstraction? Does outrage attach more easily to a distant Jewish state when there is little lived Jewish experience at home?

Or is it even worse than detachment?

A peninsula that removed its Jews in the fifteenth century now hosts some of the smallest Jewish communities in Western Europe, public squares with the most intensely anti-Israel protests, and a government unwilling to mobilize in the slightest manner to defang the leading state sponsor of terror, especially against Jews.

Five centuries is not only long enough for history to fade; it is long enough for it to harden into culture.

The Third Type of Israeli For Diaspora Jewry

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Since October 7, diaspora Jews have met three types of Israelis: traumatized, empowered and lonely.

The traumatized arrive as witnesses.
The empowered arrive as proof of resilience.
The third variety is one of performance – asked to explain a country while still trying to understand their own experience.

In Jewish communities, the first narrative is familiar. Israelis describe rupture.

October 7.
The hostages.
Reserve duty.
Funerals.
The knowledge that Iran sits behind the horizon.

This is testimony. The Israeli leaves seen as wounded.

A second narrative follows.

Israel adapted.
The army responded.
The economy continues.
Restaurants are full.
Startups are built.

This story stabilizes the room. The Israeli leaves seen as resilient.

Between these narratives lives daily life.

Relief and dread coexist.
Normal life returns without feeling normal.
Laughter sits beside background tension.

Public conversation prefers clarity. Experience offers contradiction.

So Israelis adapt to the room.

They speak trauma when trauma is needed.
They speak strength when reassurance is needed.
They translate Israel in real time.

The performance is neither optimism nor trauma.
But it is performance, a derivative removed from feelings.

Psychology defines loneliness as the gap between experience and recognition, not the number of relationships. This is emotional loneliness – social connection without feeling fully known.

A related idea is self-discrepancy, the distance between lived reality and presented identity. When that distance persists, people function well while feeling internally unseen.

Connection forms around the role while the person remains partially hidden.

Diaspora encounters intensify this.

Israelis become representatives of war, resilience, survival. Conversation pulls toward clarity. Ambiguity has little space.

So ambiguity moves inward.

This produces what researchers describe as invisible loneliness: being embedded in strong relationships yet recognized mainly through narrative.

Outwardly, this looks normal.

Travel resumes.
Humor returns.
Good news is shared.
Life is described as continuing.

Much of this is regulation.

Many Israelis instinctively manage diaspora anxiety: softening uncertainty, emphasizing stability, offering reassurance before they fully feel it.

People compress their own ambiguity to protect others. Emotional labor strengthens connection while quietly increasing distance.

The loneliness that follows is subtle.

These Israelis are seen as strong and seen as wounded, but rarely seen as both at once. Explanation is recognized faster than contradiction.

Fluency becomes the demanded role.

But that fluency creates distance.

The most adaptive Israelis can tell every story correctly. They sense what the room needs and provide it. They move between testimony and reassurance without hesitation.

This is competence. And compression.

At home, without an audience, the unperformed experience lives: pride and exhaustion, relief and uncertainty, normal life alongside persistent tension.

Psychology frames this as the cost of sustained self-discrepancy: the larger the gap between experienced reality and presented reality, the greater the risk of loneliness inside connection.

Diaspora Jews are not doing something wrong and Israelis are not being inauthentic. This is what prolonged uncertainty does when communities need clarity.

Narratives travel easily. Complexity moves slowly.

The role of the Israeli has become easier to understand than the experience of being Israeli. Can diaspora Jewry enable them to feel truly connected simply by listening, or does the off-ramp from loneliness require sharing the barrage of antisemitism in their own daily lives.

Outrage at History, Silence at Doctrine

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The U.S Ambassador to Israel, Mike Huckabee, referenced ancient Jewish kingdoms. History. Memory. Geography.

And the world went nuts.

US Ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee interviewed by Tucker Carlson

He cannot redraw borders. He has no authority to even set U.S. policy, let alone Israel’s.

Yet the reaction was immediate: he was condemned and vilified through the Muslim world.

At the same time, doctrines that openly reject Israel’s existence are treated as mere rhetoric.

Israel’s record makes the contrast unavoidable. After military victory, it returned the Sinai Peninsula to Egypt. It withdrew from Gaza, dismantling settlements and military presence. Few states concede territory after defeating enemies committed to their destruction.

The popular political-terrorist group Hamas begins from the opposite premise. Its doctrine frames the land as “waqf,” a permanent religious trust, and within the logic of Dar al-Islam, territory that can never be relinquished because it was once ruled by Muslims. This is not metaphor but structure. The conflict is defined as unfinished until sovereignty changes.

And this doctrine is not isolated to a particular politician.

Qatar and Turkey – on a sanctioned national level as a matter of policy – host and politically enable Hamas leadership. They provide access, legitimacy, and endurance for a movement whose framework rejects Israel’s permanence as a foundational principle.

The asymmetry is stark.

A Western figure referencing ancient Jewish kingdoms triggers global outrage. A movement invoking waqf and Dar al-Islam to destroy the Jewish State draws no scrutiny.

This is dangerous narrative selection.

Speculative Jewish expansion is treated as imminent risk, while explicit ideological rejection of Jewish sovereignty is normalized.

In this world view, Jewish history is reframed as provocation and therefore the basic fabric of Jewish peoplehood is positioned as dangerous to be erased. At the same time, maximalist jihadi philosophy is normalized into diplomatic background.

And the press keeps feeding you this antisemitic bile, and no one pauses to call it out.

The core issue in the Middle East is the attempted obliteration of Jewish history and the presence of Jews in the name of Islamic supremacy. We are seeing it daily but failing to identify it plainly.

From Mishkan to Mikdash

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Parshat Terumah introduces the Mishkan, a sanctuary built in the wilderness, precise in measurements and portable by design. It moved as the people moved. God’s presence rested among a nation without a permanent home.

For nearly two thousand years, Jewish life functioned in Mishkan mode.

Without sovereignty and without a Temple, Jewish law became the architecture that traveled. Halacha, Jewish law, created sacred space wherever Jews settled. The synagogue stood in place of the courtyard and the Shabbat table carried echoes of the altar. Study sustained covenant across continents.

Judaism survived in the diaspora because it was built to move.

But the Mishkan was never meant to be the final form. It pointed toward the Mikdash, the Temple that was ultimately built 3,000 years ago in Jerusalem, enduring and anchored in sovereignty. The Mishkan belongs to wandering. The Mikdash assumes a people settled in its land.

Exile required portability. The State of Israel reintroduces permanence.

The Old City of Jerusalem including the Jewish Temple Mount/ Al Aqsa Compound

That shift changes the demands of Jewish life. Law still shapes the individual and the community, but it now encounters public power. Covenant enters the arena of governance.

The wilderness sanctuary rose from voluntary gifts. The Temple required national structure and responsibility. Now, sovereignty requires the same. While a portable faith sustains survival, a rooted nation must translate that faith into courts, policy, defense, and public ethics.

Jewish history has moved from dispersion to statehood. Yet the deeper challenge is spiritual: whether a tradition perfected in exile can shape a society in power without losing its moral clarity.

Terumah begins with a traveling sanctuary. It gestures toward something fixed and enduring.

The journey from Mishkan to Mikdash continues in our own time.