A Divide in Aid and Perception Between Ukraine and Israel

Since 2022, the United States has funded two wars at historic scale.

  • ~$65–70 billion in direct U.S. military aid to Ukraine
  • ~$21–22 billion in U.S. wartime military aid to Israel since October 7, 2023

Ukraine’s funding is more than three times larger, delivered faster and sustained longer.
Israel’s is smaller, largely defensive, and focused on interception and resupply.

Yet only one of these aid streams has been treated as morally illegitimate.


The Moral Divergence

Aid to Ukraine is framed as defending democracy.
Aid to Israel is framed as complicity.

Both wars involve urban combat.
Both involve civilian casualties.
Both rely on U.S. weapons.

But only Israel’s aid is placed under moral indictment.


The Political Record

Progressive politicians aligned with the Democratic Socialists of America have been consistent in drawing this distinction.

Bernie Sanders voted for massive Ukraine aid packages while introducing resolutions to block or condition arms transfers to Israel.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez supported Ukraine military assistance as solidarity, while opposing emergency funding for Israel as morally disqualifying.

Ilhan Omar and Rashida Tlaib made opposition to U.S. military aid to Israel a defining cause—calling for halts and embargoes—without mounting a comparable campaign against the much larger Ukraine funding stream.

“This is not only the Israeli government’s genocide, Mr. Speaker. this is our government’s genocide.” – Rep. Rashida Tlaib

No similar moral test was applied to Ukraine.


The erosion of support in long wars

As the wars in Ukraine and Israel dragged on, Americans began to tire of spending so much money abroad in both wars. In September 2025, a Pew Research poll found that one-third of Americans thought that the US was providing too much military aid to Israel, while 23% thought the figure was about right and only 8% said it was not enough.

The figures were about the same for Ukraine in a February 2025 poll – 30% said too much aid, 23% about the right amount, but a significantly different figure – 22% (versus 8%) said there was not enough aid going to Ukraine. The gap is likely due to the visuals of a totally devasted Gaza and the elimination of most of the Hamas leadership.

A deeper dive shows a significant divide between Republicans and Democrats, especially over time. Republicans moved from 9% feeling there was too much aid and 49% not enough aid in 2022, to 47% feeling there was too much aid and 10% not enough aid in 2025. While Democrats did change their views over time, it was not as dramatic as the Republican shift.

At least for Ukraine.


The Ideology Behind the Distinction

This asymmetry between Ukraine and Israel is not about budgets or battlefield conduct. It is ideological.

Within DSA thinking, Israel is not merely a state that acts wrongly; it is framed as an illegal colonial project. The claim rests on a core assertion: that Jews are not indigenous to the land of Israel and therefore have no legitimate sovereign claim to it.

That assertion is historically false — and morally bankrupt.

It denies Jewish history, identity, and continuity in their ancestral homeland. It treats Jewish self-determination as uniquely illegitimate. And it transforms Israeli self-defense from a security question into a moral offense.

Ukraine, by contrast, is granted full legitimacy. Its sovereignty is assumed. Its right to fight is unquestioned.

Further, the far left is trapped in an empathy swamp, with the destroyed pictures of Gaza trumping the immorality of the Hamas death cult.


The Conclusion

A war funded at $70 billion is treated as a cause.
A war funded at $22 billion is treated as a crime.

That gap has nothing to do with the weapons. It has everything to do with an ideology that denies Jewish indigeneity — and therefore Jewish legitimacy, and a perverted view of right and wrong seen through the lens of empathy rather than morality.

This is not a debate about military aid. Ukraine gets much more than Israel. As does NATO. This about the Jewish State overwinning and the depravity of antisemites who want to end the Jewish State.

When the UN Handed the Gavel to Failure

A funny thing happened as Somalia assumed the rotating presidency of the United Nations Security Council in January 2026: Israel recognized a breakaway republic, Somaliland. The timing was rich.

Somalia’s presidency of the most powerful UN body exposed rank hypocrisy: formal recognition divorced from reality. Somalia is treated as a sovereign authority – one given prestige – while it has spent nearly twenty years losing a war to Al-Shabab, an Al-Qaeda–aligned movement that taxes civilians, runs courts, controls territory, and carries out mass-casualty attacks with impunity. International troops prop the state up while Somalia’s sovereignty is tenuous.

The failure is not abstract. Somalia’s collapse has repeatedly spilled beyond its borders—most visibly through maritime piracy in the Gulf of Aden, which for years threatened global shipping lanes, energy supply chains, and food security. Still, a state unable to police its own coastline now presides over the world’s security council. That alone tells you how hollow the United Nations has become.

Somaliland, by contrast, has done the unglamorous work of statehood since 1991: defined borders, elections, peaceful transfers of power, its own currency, police, and a monopoly on force. It meets the Montevideo criteria in substance, not just in name. Yet it remains unrecognized—because recognition at the UN is political, not factual.

Now layer “Palestine” onto this picture—and the farce deepens.

Somalia is a failed state struggling against jihadists. Gaza is a jihadist state in its own right. Since 2007, Hamas has governed Gaza fully and openly. Hamas controls schools, mosques, courts, welfare, media, police, and an army fused into one ideological machine. International aid does not shore up weakness; it subsidizes jihadist rule—tunnels instead of homes, rockets instead of infrastructure, civilians embedded into military doctrine.

Here is the moral inversion the UN refuses to confront:

  • Somalia fails to defeat Al-Shabab and is pitied. Gaza chooses Hamas and is excused.
  • Somaliland governs itself responsibly and is ignored. Israel defends itself against a jihadist regime and is condemned.

The recognition asymmetry makes this starker still. In September 2025, the United Kingdom, Canada, and Australia moved decisively toward recognizing “Palestine”—despite the absence of defined borders, unified governance, or a monopoly on violence, and despite Gaza being ruled by a designated terrorist organization. Meanwhile, Somaliland—stable, democratic, and self-policing for more than three decades—remains outside the diplomatic club. The message is unmistakable: symbolism is rewarded; governance is not.

When that contradiction became too visible to ignore, the talking points shift. Accusations – by Somalia, amplified by Qatar (Hamas’s principle sponsor) – are being made that Israel intends to “relocate Gazans to Somaliland.” The claim is complete fabrication, an attempt at damage control—a smear designed to redirect attention away from the exposed hypocrisy. By turning Somaliland into a prop in an imaginary Israeli scheme, critics attempt to avoid the harder question: why a functioning African democracy is denied recognition while jihadist-run entities are indulged.

That reality was never lost on U.S. President Donald Trump. His view of Somalia is blunt: a failed state exporting instability, relevant to the United States only as a counter-terrorism battlefield. His administration treats Somalia as territory unable to govern itself or suppress Al-Shabab. In that sense, Trump is more honest than the UN: he acknowledges failure, while the UN performs credibility rituals by handing Somalia the gavel of global security.

No one claims Al-Shabab represents Somali aspirations. Yet Hamas—whose antisemitic charter sanctifies genocide and whose strategy relies on civilian death—is routinely separated from the consequences of its rule and reframed as “resistance.” Somalia’s inability to secure a monopoly on violence is acknowledged as a defect. Gaza’s total jihadist capture is rebranded as national self-determination.

This is why Israel’s recognition of Somaliland at this time matters. It is not merely diplomatic; it is diagnostic. It forces a comparison the UN would rather avoid:

  • What actually constitutes a state?
  • Who governs responsibly?
  • Who controls violence—and who glorifies it?

The Security Council gavel in Somalia’s hand reveals the emptiness of UN moral authority. Gaza’s treatment—shielded from accountability despite being run by a designated terrorist organization—exposes complicity. Somaliland’s exclusion, despite three decades of stability, exposes cowardice.

Israel’s move did not break international norms. It exposed the rot.

Recognition, the episode made clear, is not about peace, governance, or security. It is about politics—and the willingness to look away when jihadist rule is useful to the narrative.

Free Speech Is Not on Trial. Antisemitism Is.

Every time antisemitism is called out on the left, the same dodge appears on cue:
“It’s just free speech.”

That response is not a defense. It is a red herring.

No one is arguing that anti-Israel speech is illegal. Under American law, almost nothing is. You can shout racist slogans. You can be misogynistic. You can mock religions. You can hold a Draw Muhammad contest outside a mosque. You can call for the destruction of a country. You can deny a people’s history.

All of that is protected speech. That has never been the question.

The question is what that speech is.

And much of what now passes as “anti-Israel discourse” is not political critique at all. It is hate speech, clearly, historically, and deliberately so.

Calling for the destruction of the Jewish State is not foreign policy analysis.
Denying Jewish history in the Land of Israel is not academic debate.
Declaring that Jews alone have no right to national self-determination is not progressive politics.
Passing a law that Jews cannot live somewhere and cannot pray at their holiest location is not a free exchange of ideas.

It is the application of a single moral standard to one people — and only one people — that says: you do not belong anywhere.

It is naked antisemitism.

Organizations like Democratic Socialists of America, Students for Justice in Palestine, Within Our Lifetime and Palestine Youth Movement are not tolerating this rhetoric. They are chanting it, platforming it, amplifying it, and treating it as virtuous. They deny Jewish peoplehood, erase Jewish indigeneity, excuse violence against Jewish civilians, and then insist this is nothing more than robust debate.

It is not.

It is hate speech — even if the Constitution protects the right to utter it.

And then there is Zohran Mamdani, who embodies the selective blindness at the heart of this moment. No serious person believes he would tolerate a mass of protesters outside mosques depicting Muhammad as a terrorist, screaming at Muslims as they enter prayer. That would be — correctly — labeled Islamophobia, regardless of whether it was technically legal.

Yet Mamdani casually removed buffer zones around entrances to synagogues, insuring his excited comrades can yell epithets at Jews.

When Jewish institutions are targeted, when synagogues are surrounded, when Jewish national identity is declared illegitimate, the alt-left response suddenly becomes procedural: free speech.

Free speech does not launder bigotry. The First Amendment protects the right to speak; it does not cleanse the moral content of what is said. When people accuse Mamdani and the DSA of promoting Jew-hatred, they are not confused about constitutional law. They are describing the reality of ingrained Jew hatred.

“Most Americans are familiar with the classic Western flavors of anti-Semitism: the Christian, European, white-supremacist and Communist types. But little attention has been paid to the special case of Muslim anti-Semitism. That is a pity because today it is anti-Semitism’s most zealous, most potent and most underestimated form.” – Ayaan Hirsi Ali, July 2019

Invoking free speech is an evasion. A way to avoid responsibility while continuing to normalize ideas that would be instantly condemned if aimed at any other minority.

The tragedy – and fear – is that liberals understand this perfectly well in every other context. They simply refuse to apply it to Jews. Or at least, when uttered by a community of preference, Muslims.

Free speech is not on trial, do not be confused by the misdirection. Antisemitism is, and it is winning.

Hamas and the DSA: Ideology + Grassroots Mobilization to Power + Destruction

Political power is built when ideology is fused to daily life. Theory alone persuades few and charity alone commands none. Durable movements embed a worldview inside services people rely on, until dependence becomes loyalty.

That was the formula in Gaza. It is the same formula now visibly rising in New York.

Hamas entered Gaza with a rigid morally corrupt worldview long before it ruled. Its clinics, schools, mosques, and charities were never neutral. They delivered aid while teaching a doctrine that explained suffering, identified enemies, and promised redemption through allegiance. Service and ideology arrived together.

The Democratic Socialists of America advances along the same dual track in American cities. Mutual aid, tenant organizing, bail funds, and rent clinics function as delivery systems for a moral framework that divides society into oppressors and oppressed, treats ownership as suspect, and elevates redistribution as justice. Assistance arrives bundled with belief.

In both cases, aid becomes initiation and gratitude becomes allegiance.


The Manifesto: How Movements Legitimize Seizure

Grassroots legitimacy does not sustain power by itself. Movements require a manifesto—a moral architecture that explains why people suffer and who is to blame.

Hamas supplied that architecture in its 1988 foundational charter. The document framed politics as a total moral struggle, casting Jews collectively as illegitimate manipulators of capital and institutions, thieves of land and destiny. Jewish presence, ownership and sovereignty were criminalized. Seizure was the cure to restoration. Compromise vanished and was vilified. The charter’s function was clear: define an enemy class, strip legitimacy, and authorize permanent struggle.

The New York analogue operates through a different medium with the same effect. In the DSA ecosystem, capitalists and landlords are portrayed as extractive and illegitimate. Profit is framed as violence with ownership recast as theft. Confiscation is moralized as justice.

Alt-left magazine Jacobin advocating for government seizure of private real estate with “transfer to tenant cooperatives or the public sector” in January 2026

Jews are often implied rather than named—refigured as landlords, financiers, “Zionists,” or beneficiaries of immoral systems. Jewish capital becomes shorthand for illegitimate capital. The logic is identical: identify a moral contaminant and justify its removal.

Every mass movement needs a villain. The manifesto supplies one.


After Victory: Asset Capture as Governance

When Hamas seized Gaza in 2007, its parallel institutions fused into rule. Aid became leverage. Employment became conditional. Permits learned loyalty.

Then came Hamas’s most consequential real-estate empire: the tunnel network. A vast underground system ran beneath homes, schools, mosques, and hospitals—an invisible city binding the population into the movement’s infrastructure. Security, storage, command, and coercion converged below ground. Benefits flowed to the loyal. Dissent was isolated.

Governance became permanent: mobilization with infrastructure.

The governing theory now circulating in New York mirrors this logic. Mass governance insists movements never demobilize after elections.

Housing is the fulcrum. Advocates call for seizing or socializing rental property, transferring control to movement-aligned entities, and moralizing ownership itself. What cannot leave becomes the lever.

New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani states openly that he will “govern expansively and audaciously” and not change course for being deemed too “radical.” What was once viewed as crazy is being normalized and soon to be implemented.


Redistribution Without Production

Hamas never built a productive economy in Gaza. It did not need to. External money—almost all of it routed through international “aid”—financed the broken economy. Governance ran on grievance and allocation. The system extracted and redistributed; it did not grow.

The same risk shadows New York’s mass-governance vision. There is no emphasis on productivity, investment, or growth. The emphasis is on free stuff and redistribution from outside: state transfers, federal dollars, and seizing capital from more wealthy citizens. When the mobile capital inevitably leaves, the focus will intensify on seizing what cannot leave: real estate. As jobs and taxpayers depart, redistribution turns inward. Assets are moralized, then absorbed.


The Bigger Warning: This Is Happening in New York

This is not unfolding in a peripheral city. It is unfolding in New York City—the capital of capitalism.

DSA-NYC backed Zohran Mamdani

A redistribution-first governing theology imposed here would not be contained. When growth is dismissed as immoral and allocation is elevated as virtue, capital leaves, talent migrates, and pressure turns inward.

The danger compounds because New York is also home to one of the largest Jewish populations in the world. History is unambiguous: when movements moralize capital and cast Jews—explicitly or implicitly—as its avatars, the outcome is rupture. Flight. Confrontation. Violence.

An antisemitic movement consolidating power beside Jewish life at this scale resulted in the deaths of tens of thousands in Israel and the terrorist enclave of Gaza. It is an impending disaster in New York.

The warning signs are already visible:

  • Meritocracy cast as a fiction
  • Growth dismissed as immoral
  • Redistribution elevated as governance
  • Private property declared illegitimate
  • Pressure treated as legitimacy
  • Protection deemed conditional
  • Jews recast as symbols of theft

Hamas showed the arc in Gaza: from grassroots mobilization plus ideology, to framing the enemy who causes despair, to asset confiscation and control, to an entrenched vicious philosophy financed by redistribution without production.

DSA-NYC is following the same arc, adapted to American law and language.

When the capital of capitalism abandons growth and sanctifies seizure, the city stops creating wealth and starts fighting over remnants.

Memorial plaque in Vienna, Austria. In 1420, all Austrian Jews were arrested; 270 were burned at the stake, while the others were expelled and their property confiscated. The Vienna Gesera in 1421 brought the Jewish community in the Middle Ages to a truly bloody end. The root causes were antisemitism mixed with an economic desire to cancel debts.

Blessing and Inheritance

The story at the end of the Book of Genesis has an interesting lesson for Jews today.

If Jacob’s sons had remained in Canaan, the biblical pattern likely would have continued unchanged. Land and cattle anchored wealth, security, and continuity, and survival depended on concentration. In such an environment, inheritance narrowed toward a single heir capable of holding territory together through famine and conflict. Until this point, Genesis follows that logic closely, moving from Abraham to Isaac, from Isaac to Jacob, and nearly from Jacob to Joseph.

Canaan seemingly reinforced singular succession.

Egypt reshaped it.

The famine drained land of its defining value and redirected survival toward provision. In Egypt, Goshen mattered because it was allocated rather than owned. Jacob’s family entered as dependents, albeit under the protection of a senior official. With land no longer functioning as the primary store of value relative to neighbors, inheritance lost its organizing role. What carried forward instead was character and capacity.

Jacob recognized the shift and adapted to it. His final blessings did not distribute assets or authority but identity. Leadership, resilience, intensity, cohesion, adaptability—each son was seen for what he could contribute rather than what he would receive. Blessing became formative rather than transactional, oriented toward coexistence rather than accumulation.

This evolution reflected Jacob’s own hard-earned understanding. Early in life, he secured a singular blessing that concentrated destiny in one person and fractured a family in the process. Now, with seventy descendants – coming from different mothers – preparing to live together under pressure, he understood that continuity required a new orientation. Blessings and inheritance had to evolve if brothers were going to coexist in exile. Differentiation replaced rivalry, and identity replaced estate.

That shift allowed a family to become a people. Survival came to depend on shared memory, distinct roles, and collective endurance. The covenant moved through people rather than property, and the biblical story never narrowed again to a single bearer.

Jacob blessing his sons by Adam van Noort (1561–1641)

For nearly two thousand years, Jewish history unfolded within that framework. Without land, Jews carried blessing as portable identity—education, law, ethics, aspiration. Children were blessed for what they might become, not for what they would inherit. That model sustained continuity across dispersion, persecution, and renewal.

History has turned again.

Since 2008, a plurality of world Jewry lives once more in the land of Israel. Concentration has returned. Land, sovereignty, and inheritance are tangible again, not symbolic. The Jewish people find themselves in the inverse position of Parshat Vayechi: no longer learning how to survive without land, but learning how to live with it again after centuries of absence.

Jacob understood that blessings and inheritance had to change in order for brothers to live together in the diaspora. This moment demands a parallel act of wisdom. The task of this generation is to pass on collective and individual inheritances which will hold both realities at once: rootedness in the land of Israel alongside the moral, intellectual, and spiritual capital forged in exile. The next generation must receive blessings that affirm individual potential and an inheritance that binds those differences into a shared future.

That synthesis—blessing and land together—is the challenge of our time.

A Less Anti-Israel UN Security Council in 2026?

The United Nations rarely changes. But sometimes the composition changes just enough that the temperature drops—even if the structure stays broken.

That is what January 1, 2026 quietly delivered at the United Nations Security Council.

Five countries rotated off. Five rotated on. No grand reform. No moral awakening. Just personnel. And yet, for Israel, the difference matters.

The Council Israel Had to Endure

For much of 2024–2025, the Security Council was not merely critical of Israel. It was performative. Ideological. Repetitive. Certain members treated the Council less as a forum for conflict resolution and more as a theater for delegitimization.
None more so than Algeria.

Algeria did not argue policy. Israel, it insisted—again and again—was an illegitimate colonial outpost of Europe, no different from French rule in North Africa. History, geography, and Jewish continuity were irrelevant. This framing was injected into draft resolutions, press statements, and emergency sessions with missionary zeal. The goal was not peace. It was erasure.

Then there was Guyana, a country which bonded with the terrorist Palestinian Liberation Organization in the 1970s, which spoke with confidence and without knowledge—accusing Israel, rather than Arab states, of rejecting partition since 1948. One did not need to agree with Israel to recognize the historical absurdity. But the UN often rewards certainty over accuracy.

And Slovenia—a country with no meaningful role in the conflict—seemed to relish its moment on the moral stage. During Israel’s defensive war, it never called out Hamas. Slovenia repeatedly accused Israel of genocide. The charge was not legal analysis; it was rhetoric. And rhetoric, once introduced, metastasizes.

These countries rotated off quietly. No ceremony. No reckoning. Just gone.

The Council Israel Is Getting Instead

Their replacements are not “pro-Israel.” That bar is too high. But they are something rarer: less ideological.

Bahrain now occupies Algeria’s Arab Muslim chair. Bahrain is a signatory to the Abraham Accords and has diplomatic relations with Israel. It understands that shouting “colonialism” does not feed people, build ports, or stabilize regions. Bahrain may not defend Israel loudly—but it will not poison the well reflexively.

Colombia replaces Guyana in South America. Colombia is a serious country with a serious economy. It trades. It fights insurgencies. It understands security dilemmas. Domestic politics fluctuate, but Colombia does not need Israel as a symbolic enemy to feel virtuous on the world stage.

Latvia replaces Slovenia. Latvia knows what occupation actually looks like. It is cautious with language. It aligns more naturally with Western security frameworks and is unlikely to indulge in genocide rhetoric as a form of diplomatic performance art.

Liberia and Democratic Republic of the Congo round out the new entrants. Neither is a champion of Israel. But neither is an ideological crusader. Silence, at the UN, is often an upgrade.

This is not a transformed Security Council. The structural bias remains intact. Russia and China still exploit Israel as a pressure point. France still oscillates. The General Assembly still manufactures moral majorities untethered from reality.

But something important does change: the agenda-setters.

Algeria’s absence means fewer resolutions laced with colonial mythology. Slovenia’s departure means fewer genocide accusations casually flung like slogans. Guyana’s exit means fewer history-free lectures delivered with confidence.

In their place are countries – hopefully – that calculate before they accuse. That lowers the volume. It slows the cycle and gives diplomacy—especially American diplomacy—more room to maneuver.

Conclusion

Israel does not need the UN to love it. It needs the UN to stop lying about it.
The 2026 Security Council will not be fair. But it may be less dishonest. Less theatrical. Less obsessed with turning a regional war into a morality play with a prewritten villain.

Sometimes history doesn’t turn with a speech or a vote—but with who quietly leaves the room.

Democratic Socialist Banana Republic

There is a familiar script in the American imagination: the banana republic. A place where public money leaks into private pockets, where cronies get rich, and where the state exists less to serve citizens than to lubricate loyalty. We usually imagine this as something foreign—dictatorships, juntas, autocrats with offshore accounts.

But Minnesota has offered a more modern, democratic variant.

The Somali community fraud cases that emerged from COVID relief funds, child-nutrition programs, and early-learning initiatives were not small-time scams. Tens of millions—eventually billions— of dollars flowed through nonprofit fronts. Programs meant to feed hungry children and support families became vehicles for enrichment. People inside the community became millionaires. Luxury homes, cars, and cash replaced the language of charity.

It didn’t stop with pandemic money. The same networks appeared again in other state and federal programs. Kickbacks were alleged. In some cases, parents were implicated. Oversight mechanisms failed repeatedly. Red flags were raised and ignored.

Which leads to the uncomfortable question that hovers over every such scandal: how much of this was invisible, and how much was merely inconvenient?

Because money of that scale does not move without institutional permission—explicit or implicit. If government officials knew and looked away, if warnings were buried to keep a constituency satisfied, if enforcement was delayed because elections loomed, then the fraud begins to blur into something murkier. Not theft from the shadows, but theft tolerated in the light.

And once it is tolerated, the line between crime and policy becomes disturbingly thin.

This is not uniquely American.

In Israel, a parallel story has unfolded for decades in a more formalized way. When the state was founded, the Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) community was granted exemptions from military service. They were few in number, devastated by the Holocaust, and the exemption was framed as a temporary measure to rebuild a shattered world of Torah learning.

That world rebuilt itself—spectacularly. Today the Haredi population approaches 15% of Israel’s citizens and an even larger share – approaching 60% – of its youth. Their exemption from military service has become one of the most volatile fault lines in Israeli society, especially over the last two years of war, when reserve soldiers have been called up again and again while entire neighborhoods remain exempt.

The state pays. Child allowances, stipends, subsidies. And despite mounting public anger, the government—under Benjamin Netanyahu—continues to send checks. The reason is not hidden. Haredi parties vote as disciplined blocs. Their support keeps coalitions alive. The transaction is transparent.

It is deeply unfair. It corrodes social trust. But it is not a crime, because it is legislated, budgeted, and justified in public.

This is the key distinction that matters less than we pretend.

Governments control trillions of dollars. Politicians direct those flows—sometimes explicitly, sometimes through euphemism—to keep voters happy. In plainer language, they buy loyalty. Niche communities that vote as a bloc have disproportionate leverage. When challenged, they retreat behind the language of discrimination, marginalization, or historical injustice. The whistleblower becomes the villain.

Movements that openly favor redistribution, such as the Democratic Socialists of America, are at least honest about the direction of travel. They believe the treasury should be used to shift wealth and power to favored or protected groups. They don’t pretend the redistribution is an element of corruption—it is the point of government.

Contrast this with the classic banana republic. There, a dictator steals for himself and his inner circle. The corruption is crude, centralized, and personal.

In a democracy, the corruption is softer and more dangerous. The state funnels money to preferred constituencies under moral banners: equity, justice, relief, rebuilding. The beneficiaries vote. The politicians win. Accountability dissolves.

No villas on the Riviera are required. No coup is needed.

What emerges instead is a democratic socialist banana republic: not ruled by a single strongman, but by a web of incentives where public funds are traded for political survival. Fraud becomes harder to prosecute, because it nests inside policy. Waste becomes invisible, because it wears the language of virtue.

And when someone finally asks whether this is really a crime, the most honest answer may be the most unsettling one of all:

No. It’s worse.

The Dry Tree

Jewish tradition returns again and again to the image of the tree. Sometimes it appears strong and fruit-bearing. At other moments it is reduced, cut back, or left without water. The image endures because it carries history within it—growth shaped by interruption, life that continues through constraint.

The prophets reached for this language when ordinary description failed them.

“They shall be like a tree planted in the desert, that does not sense the coming of good.”Jeremiah 17:6

“Let not the barren one say: ‘I am a dry tree.’”Isaiah 56:3

The statement reframes the moment. What looks final and foreboding is often incomplete. The future has not yet spoken.

That tension—between appearance and essence—finds a physical echo in the hills west of Jerusalem, where Yad Kennedy rises from the forest. The memorial marks a life interrupted mid-growth. John F. Kennedy’s presidency and life ended before its natural arc could unfold, and the monument holds that sense of unrealized promise. Surrounded by trees planted in rocky soil, it resembles a tree stump, and invites reflection on lives cut short and on continuity carried forward by those who remain.

Yad Kennedy in Jerusalem Forest

Jewish history has unfolded along similar lines. After the destruction of the Second Temple, Judaism reorganized itself without sovereignty or familiar institutions. Across centuries of dispersion, it adapted under pressure, preserving learning and community in constrained forms. Growth did not disappear; it compressed, waiting for conditions that would allow it to expand again.

This persistence appears vividly in the work of Dr. Mark Podwal (1945-2024). His drawings return repeatedly to the Jewish tree—scarred, truncated, shaped by time. The branches rise unevenly, carrying memory in their grain. Life continues without erasing what came before. Growth is real precisely because it bears the marks of history.

That image resonated deeply with Rabbi Yehuda Amital (1924-2010), founding Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshiva Gush Etzion. A survivor of the Holocaust, Rav Amital rebuilt his world through Torah that could hold rupture and responsibility together. His leadership reflected patience, moral seriousness, and a belief that renewal emerges gradually from damaged ground.

Podwal once gave Rav Amital a drawing of a truncated Jewish tree—reduced in form, yet unmistakably alive, blooming with the promise of a renewed Judaism. The rabbi transformed the image into a small sticker and placed it inside the books of his personal library. Every volume bore the same mark.

Drawing by Mark Podwal about Jewish life springing forth from Jewish texts, used as a sticker in the library of Rav Yehuda Amital (photo: First One Through)

The image spoke directly to his life’s work. Rav Amital played a central role in rebuilding the Gush Etzion community after it was destroyed in the 1948–49 War of Independence, a war in which he fought shortly after moving to the land of Israel after his family was slaughtered in Auschwitz. In the hills south of Jerusalem, homes had been razed, residents killed or expelled, and the area left barren. The return after the 1967 Six Day War was careful and deliberate, rooted in learning, faith, and responsibility. A community grew again where one had been cut down.

Each time Rav Amital opened a book, the image reinforced that lesson. Torah study itself became an act of regrowth.

Rav Amital had the original Podwal drawing framed and placed on the wall of his home. (photo: First One Through)

That insight extends far beyond one community.

In the Land of Israel, Jewish roots run beneath history itself—through exile and return, ruin and rebuilding. Torah and Jewish presence were never uprooted from this land. They were compressed, covered, narrowed to fragments. Learning continued in small circles, in whispered prayers, in constrained spaces. At times the surface appeared barren. Beneath it, roots remained alive.

This is why Jewish life and learning in Israel carry a distinctive quality of reemergence. Yeshivot rise where silence once prevailed. Communities form on ground that held ruins. Torah is studied again in places where the chain of learning was abruptly broken. To the unobservant eye, it can appear improbable—as though life has emerged from wood long dried. To those who understand the depth of Jewish connection to this land, to the Jewish texts which form the basis of Judaism, it is recognition rather than surprise.

The dry tree was never dead. It was waiting.

Jewish continuity does not require ideal conditions. Where roots reach deep enough, water is eventually found. Growth resumes in forms shaped by everything that came before.

The Golem of New York City

In the legends of Prague, the Golem came into being when civic order failed Jews in predictable ways. Blood libels circulated, crowds gathered, and authorities hesitated at the decisive moment. Rabbi Judah Loew, the Maharal (c.1512-1609), recognized the pattern. He shaped a human form from the mud of the Vltava River—from the city itself—and animated it with sacred words. The choice of material mattered. The defender of Jews was made from the ground beneath their feet. Even if the city’s leaders would not protect Jews, the city itself would.

The Golem patrolled the Jewish quarter, broke the rhythm of violence, and restored deterrence. When the danger passed, it was deactivated and laid to rest in the attic of the Old New Synagogue, the Altneuschul. The legend recorded a hard truth: when the state falters, protection is improvised; when the state recovers, emergency power sleeps.

Altneuschul in Prague (photo: First One Through)

That memory traveled.

The melody of Hatikvah, the national anthem of the Jewish State of Israel, traces back through the musical world of that same Prague river Vltava, famously shaped by Bedřich Smetana (1824-1884). Exile and return share a river. The Golem embodies survival within exile; Zionism embodies the resolve to end exile. One guards a community where it stands, the other builds sovereignty so guarding becomes policy.

Yet the Golem never disappears. It waits for the moment when trust in authority thins again.


New York, Upper East Side

New York City holds one of the world’s largest and most visible Jewish populations. Jewish life here is open and proud. Synagogues, schools, and community institutions operate in public view, anchored by the assumption that their protection is a foundational duty of government.

That assumption has been tested.

On the Upper East Side in November 2025, an anti-Israel crowd swarmed a synagogue hosting a pro–Land of Israel event. The scene echoed an old shape: shouting at the doors of a Jewish house of worship, intimidation in a public park, the expectation that Jews would need to justify gathering openly as Jews. Instead of drawing a clear perimeter around the synagogue and condemning the mob, Zohran Mamdani, the incoming mayor of New York City, scolded the shul for holding a Zionist event, shifting the burden of restraint onto the Jewish institution.

For Jews who carry history close, the signal was unmistakable. Cities fail their minorities first through language, then through hesitation, and only later through force. When the synagogue itself surrounded by an angry crowd is framed as the problem, safety has become conditional.

Conditional safety never endures.


How the Modern Golem Forms

The Golem of New York does not rise from clay. It forms from memory.

Private guards appear where confidence once lived. Volunteer patrols lengthen into the evening. Parents coordinate entrances and exits. Institutions harden quietly, without ceremony.

These are the incremental steps of adaptation. Communities organize when clarity blurs. Parallel systems take shape when weak reassurance yields to experience.

Other minority groups get municipal funding and public declarations of support while Jews are only lumped into a general “other” category, as in White Plains, the capital of Westchester County just north of New York City. Jews learn that they must fend for themselves, because their basic protection offends many. Frighteningly, even for local politicians.

On the Upper East Side, a growing and proudly Zionist congregation bears a name heavy with inheritance: Altneu Synagogue. Old–New. It is a spin-off of the Park East Synagogue where the anti-Israel mob harassed and intimidated Jews. The echo of Prague’s Altneuschul may also prove prescient. Old dangers return wearing contemporary language. Rivers change. Cities change. But the logic persists.

Natan Sharansky, a famous Russian “refusenik” who was jailed for years before being allowed to leave to Israel, knows the dangers of antisemitic regimes. He came to Washington, D.C. in November 2023 to address 300,000 people about the need to fight back: “We, together, will fight against those who try to give legitimacy to Hamas. We will fight for Israel. We will fight for every Jew. We will fight against antisemitism. We will fight for the values and against corruption of those values which are at the center of our Jewish identity and American identity.”

Sharansky is coming to New York in January, soon after Mamdani takes office. He should come to the Altneu Synagogue and help shape and awaken a modern Golem as Jewish security appears vulnerable, and the current leaders of Jewish institutions appear unable to rise to the moment. New, unconventional defenders need to assume roles.

For the moment, things may be OK. Mamdani appointed Jessica Tisch as police commissioner, a role she has had for several years. She is Jewish and no-nonsense leader, widely supported by the city’s Jewish community. If she can do her job without anti-Zionist and antisemitic politicians limiting her mandate, Jews will be fine. Otherwise, a new golem will rise in the New World, hundreds of years after the Golem of Prague went to sleep in the attic of the Altneuschul.

Hamas and ISIS

The headlines are the same. Another plot uncovered. Another attacker radicalized online. Another manifesto stitched together from familiar phrases about vengeance, purity, and divine obligation.

Was it ISIS-inspired?
Was it Hamas-aligned?

In practice, the distinction is collapsing.

From Manchester to Sydney and across Europe and North America, security services increasingly encounter the same ideological core animating different actors. Antisemitism framed as righteousness. Violence framed as duty. Death framed as meaning. The slogans vary, the flags change, but the belief system underneath remains remarkably consistent.

ISIS flag on the car of murderers in Sydney, Australia

These movements are not converging by accident. They are aligned by doctrine. They are the banners of jihad.

When stripped of geography, branding, and media strategy, Hamas and the Islamic State reveal the same worldview: a sanctified war against Jews, against pluralism, and against life itself.

They are branches of the same antisemitic death cult.

God Alone Rules

Both movements begin with a totalizing claim: sovereignty belongs exclusively to God. Political authority, democratic choice, civil law—all are illegitimate intrusions into divine rule. Religion is not guidance; it is command.

This theology leaves no room for coexistence. Difference becomes defiance. Dissent becomes apostasy. Submission is the only acceptable outcome.

Violence as Obedience

Violence is not an unfortunate consequence of struggle. It is the struggle. Jihad is framed as obligation, killing as faithfulness, death as fulfillment.

This is why attacks around the world feel interchangeable. Civilian targets are central because civilians matter symbolically. Children are drawn into the story because innocence amplifies impact. Suicide becomes virtue because it collapses the distance between belief and action.

When ideology outranks life, mass killing is not excess. It is alignment.

Jews as a Theological Obstacle

The conflict is often described in political or territorial terms, but the animating hostility is theological. Jews are cast as an enduring enemy embedded in sacred narrative, not as a community with whom disagreement might be resolved.

That framing explains the permanence of the war. Agreements become pauses. Ceasefires mere tactics. The goal is not compromise but eradication.

Scripture, once weaponized, does not negotiate.

Death as Currency

In societies shaped by this ideology, death is elevated and life is instrumentalized. Martyrdom replaces mourning. Sacrifice replaces survival. Civilian neighborhoods are folded deliberately into military design.

Homes, schools, mosques, hospitals become launchpads and shields. Suffering is curated for export. Images of devastation are not collateral damage; they are strategic output.

What the outside world experiences as tragedy, the ideology treats as leverage.

Power Without Freedom

The end state is always the same. Total control enforced by fear and sanctified by religion. No speech outside doctrine. No faith outside orthodoxy. No dignity outside obedience.

ISIS ruled this way openly. Hamas learned to cloak the same destination in the language of resistance and grievance. The structure beneath remains unchanged.

The Lesson Already Learned

When ISIS surged across Iraq and Syria, the West recognized the threat clearly. It did not argue for partial containment. It did not imagine ideological evolution. It organized, committed resources, and dismantled the movement.

And it succeeded. For a while.

Israel has carried that same burden. By Israel’s own assessments, roughly 95 percent of Hamas’s fighting capacity—its leadership, battalions, tunnels, and command infrastructure—has been destroyed.

Stopping here would not stabilize anything. Allowing the group to maintain its weapons – the way the majority of the Stateless Arabs from Palestine (SAPs) want – would preserve the conditions for revival. Ideologies built on sanctified violence do not soften when wounded. They metastasize.

The remaining fragments are not a political movement in transition. They are an ideology waiting to rearm, re-export, and re-infect—far beyond Gaza.

Yet the world is rearming and financing ISIS and Hamas. It is allowing the jihadi groups to gain strength.

The world once understood this when ISIS was the name on the banner. The jihadist doctrine of Hamas is the same and has not changed. Only the branding has.

Hamas leadership promises to continue war against Israel forever

ISIS in Africa in Somalia, recruiting from around the world