The Trouble with Displaced Anger

In the wake of October 7, one development in public discourse that I do think genuinely shocked a large portion of the Jewish and Israeli community was just how intense the anger that quickly coalesced targeting Israel for its response to Hamas' massacre was. Jews and pro-Israel advocates are used to rallies and marches which assail the nation any time it engages in military action of any capacity in the Palestinian territories. But this felt different -- expelled ambassadors, "genocide" and "Nazi" allegations being thrown out with abandon, public doubling-down on the presentation of Israel as naught but a European settler imposition whose decisions could only be attributed to neo-colonialist bloodlust -- all occurring within days of Israel being the victim of one of the more sickening displays of mass-scale terrorist brutality that's been witnessed in recent years. 

From the vantage of folks in sympathy with Israel, this was stunning: Israel endures what is probably the single worst terrorist atrocity in its history -- possibly the single bloodiest incident of anti-Jewish violence since the Holocaust -- and the result was a global community that within the space of days was breaking new records in levels of fury at Israel. What could explain this?

I have a hypothesis that can explain part of it. But before I share it, I want to return to a blog post I wrote in 2019 titled "The Trouble with Jewish Anger". Obviously, anger has always been a part of Jewish (and non-Jewish) political life, but in 2019 it seemed to be consuming our community in a way that felt genuinely different in kind rather than degree. What was motivating this anger? 

In my post, I gave a long bulleted list of causes, most of which were various ways that non-Jews were mistreating Jews in fashions that obviously could and would legitimately prompt Jewish resentment. Included among these, of course, was ways in which left-wing discourses about Israel often were used to degrade, denigrate, and dismiss Jews both in Israel and in the diaspora. But at the end of my list, I added one final bullet point which I knew would be controversial but which I felt needed to be said:

And, I think, we're angry that the Israeli government has been racing off to the right, busily making some -- some -- arguments that once were outlandish now plausible, and putting us in increasingly difficult positions. We're angry that we've been basically powerless to stop this decay of liberal democracy in Israel, we're angry that a community and a place that we care deeply about seems not to care about us in return and is mutating into something unrecognizable to us, and we're displacing that anger a bit.

This, of course, was a very fraught thing to say. Nobody likes being challenged in their anger, and they like it still less when the argument is that their anger at others is actually displaced internal frustration.  People could and did rail against this passage as outrageous -- as if the litany of perfectly good reasons for Jews to be angry weren't enough to explain why Jews are angry, as if legitimate Jewish anger over real antisemitism in any way could be said to be cut with displaced frustration over illiberalism and misconduct emanating from the Jewish state.

It was a controversial and fraught thing to say. Nonetheless, I stood by it then and stand by it now. There absolutely were many valid things for Jews to be angry about in terms of how others were treating Jews. But some -- some -- of the anger was displacement of our own frustrations, of being forced to reckon with certain things we'd been able to previously dismiss as implausible transforming into plausibilities. It's legitimately infuriating to be taunted as a Jew that the state you've held close to your heart since childhood is a fascist enterprise, and that legitimate fury is not quenched but exacerbated when the Israeli government undertakes actions that are legitimately labeled as fascist. It's "worst person you know makes legitimate point" on steroids. And one way of resolving that dissonance is to double-down on the anger; restoring a fractured unity where the torment we feel is solely caused by the tormenters we already knew; exploiting the fact that the tormenters we already knew are in fact giving us plenty to be legitimately angry about.

With all that in mind, we can return to the anger that's greeted Israel's campaign in Gaza following October 7. Once again, there is much one can legitimately be angry about. First and foremost, the surging death toll amongst the Palestinian civilian population is heart-wrenching. And even though the Israeli military may not be "targeting" civilians per se, it does not seem to be exhibiting much more than an attitude of cavalier indifference to the lives the Palestinian civilian population. Palestinian life is barely if at all part of the military calculus; if Israel isn't going out of its way to kill as many Palestinians as possible (the death toll, horrible as it is, would look completely different if that were the case), it certainly doesn't appear to be going much out of its way to avoid killing wherever it poses even a mild obstacle to a plausible military objective. 

Beyond that, the unprecedented presence of the far-right in the Israeli government (partially but not wholly sidelined via the new "military cabinet"), some of whom can barely contain their thirst to see Palestinians expelled and/or murdered in both Gaza and the West Bank, makes certain possibilities that might previously have unthinkable into terrifyingly live possibilities. Indeed, the very brutality of the October 7 attacks makes the prospect of genuine retaliation in kind terrifyingly real -- everyone can at some level recognize how an atrocity of that magnitude generates a risk of an unstoppable cascade of recrimination. Mixing in the full scope of the October 7 attack together with an Israeli government which already was predisposed to dehumanizing Palestinians, and one has a cocktail that feels ripe for a wave of atrocities that make even the current displays feel tame in comparison.

None of that should be discounted. They are real and valid bases for anger (and fear, and a host of other emotions). But much as I said about Jewish anger in 2019, I will also assert that part -- part -- of the story is a bit of displacement. The attacks on October 7 made some arguments that, at least to pro-Palestinian activists, had seemed outlandish now plausible. Positions or narratives that previously could be easily dismissed as propaganda or apologias were shown in the most gruesome fashion imaginable to have more than a grain of truth behind them. And for persons whose personal identities were deeply bound up in denying the plausibility of such positions and narratives, the cold shock of October 7 represents a bona fide crisis.

Even while October 7 was still happening, I observed a tranche of commentators whose main reaction was "annoyance" that events were forcing them to empathize with Israelis. These weren't, to be clear, people who were celebrating or even justifying Hamas' massacres. They recognized the atrocities for what they were. But nonetheless, they clearly found it ... unpleasant ... to do so. These were people who treated Hamas like roguish committee of resistance fighters whose rhetoric sometimes maybe was a bit too florid for normie ears but were ultimately fighting for Palestinian liberation, who viewed PIJ rockets as glorified sparklers, who had long rolled their eyes at the notion that Israel and its powerful army could ever have true security interests vis-a-vis the Gaza Strip, who were confident that any contention of significant antisemitism amongst Palestine solidarity activists was the desperate defamation of Hasbarist shills trying to silence any and all forms of pro-Palestinian political advocacy.

Now, those who had comfortably held the above beliefs were being smacked in the face with the reality that some -- some -- of the things Israelis and Zionists had been saying that they had previously dismissed with a wave were, in fact, legitimate. The claims about Hamas' depravity were not just warmongering propaganda -- Hamas really was that brutal in terms of its approach to Israeli (and Palestinian!) life. The claims that Israel had legitimate security needs vis-a-vis Gaza were not just an excuse for endless repression -- there really were bad men on the other side of the fence who were actively plotting to murder Israeli men, women, and children. The claims about how "pro-Palestinian" protesters promoted and engaged in antisemitism were not just efforts to smear the left -- there really were non-trivial elements of that community who were making no bones about their glee at the prospect of dead and fleeing Jews, and who professed their fondest wish that they will soon see more. The worst people they knew were, it turns out, making legitimate points. And they were furious about it. They were furious that, in this moment, the most prominent flagbearers of "resistance," of "anti-Zionism", of "fighting for a free Palestine", or what have you, were in fact behaving exactly as their most hated enemies asserted they would.

How does one handle that fury, fury that is in the broadest sense inwardly directed? Again, one easy way of dealing with it is to sublimate it into all the other outward things one can (to reiterate once more) legitimately be angry at. The early statements holding Israel responsible for Hamas' massacres were a crude form of this -- they displace the anger that Hamas behaved the way that it did and transport it over to the more congenial subject of Israel. The seemingly endless upward spiral of rhetorical oneupsmanship in how to characterize Israel's Gaza campaign -- "genocide", "textbook genocide", "Nazism"; each term striving to outdo its predecessor in its expression of incandescent rage -- is another. Expanding the bubble of fury ever-outward is a way of making one particular (and particularly uncomfortable) iteration of anger pale in significance. 

It turns out that, rather than acting to generate greater understanding or sympathy, paradoxically, rage and frustration at Hamas for its awful actions becomes a catalyst that intensifies the anger at Israel (anger that, again, is in large part rooted in Israel's own terrible conduct). Indeed, just as (at some level) Israel's increasingly indefensible forays into repressive fascism make it more essential to the mental wellbeing of the Zionists that they hate the anti-Zionists, so too does Hamas' striking punctuation of murderous terror make it more essential to the mental wellbeing of the anti-Zionists that they hate the Zionists. The (displaced) anger is the means of metabolizing an otherwise staggering threat to one's own identity and self-image. And how lucky for each that the prevalence of real Israeli injustices towards Palestinians; and real pro-Palestinian antisemitism towards Jews; provides such an available landing spot for that anger to be displaced to.

One more illustration which really is what crystallized this entire thought-line. A community leader in San Diego, Lallia Allali, was removed from a teaching position at the University of San Diego after sharing the below image, a Star of David acting as a buzzsaw decapitating Palestinian babies.

The visual motif of beheaded babies is, I think, no accident. Beheaded babies quickly became one of the symbolic tropes of the October 7 atrocities. Initially, it was one of the earliest claims used by pro-Israel commentators to establish the pure sadism and brutality of Hamas' actions -- that it wasn't "just another flare-up". Shortly thereafter, as initial reports proved unable to be immediately confirmed, it was for a while held up by anti-Israel commentators as a symbol of Israeli propaganda -- a deliberate lie used to unjustly discredit Palestinian resistance via lurid and supposedly implausible tales of utter depravity, and a cautionary tale about trusting those dastardly Israelis and giving succor to the fictitious slanders they're spinning to justify their own bloodlust. And then, of course, it turned out that the claims were true -- Hamas was in fact that unimaginably cruel and sadistic in its actions, in ways that even the most hard-bitten supporter of "the resistance" found difficult to stomach. The fury of being accused of siding with those who beheaded babies is not quenched but exacerbated when it turns out that "the resistance" really was going out and beheading babies.

In this context, Allali's cartoon -- the use of that motif, but turned around -- reads as an effort to sublimate the public disgust over what Hamas did and displace it onto Israeli actors. It's a way of taking the anger at what Hamas did and using it to further fuel anger at what Israel did. I don't know Allali, and some no doubt will claim I'm giving her too much credit (note that this account does assume she did feel, at some level, revulsion at what Hamas did). But taken on the whole, I think something like what I'm talking about is partially at work here.

I don't expect this post to generate any public acknowledgments of "yeah, that's me". In 2023 as in 2019, nobody likes being told to tamp down on their anger; still less when they really do have very valid and legitimate things to be angry about. And yet maybe, in private, some people might have a ping of recognition in what I'm saying here. I think that happened in 2019, and maybe it can happen in 2023 as well. And if you do feel that uncomfortable pang of recognition, please know there's no treason to it: It doesn't mean there isn't much to legitimately be angry at; it doesn't mean here conceding that the pro-Israel commentariat was right all along (in 2019, my thesis was likewise not "actually, what you're mad about is that the Corbynistas are right"). It just means that, just as many Jews (and non-Jews) have had to and still need to reckon honestly and directly with how Israel's own conduct disturbs some close-clung beliefs about Israel, Palestine, Zionism, and anti-Zionism many non-Jews (and Jews) may need to grapple honestly and directly with how the conduct of Hamas and its backers disturb some other close-clung beliefs about Israel, Palestine, Zionism, and anti-Zionism. It's not an easy ask; it's far easier to displace it away. But I do think we're stronger for if we stop avoiding it.

On Fleeing "Settlers" and Mobs in Dagestan

I want to juxtapose two things that I think need to be placed in conversation. 

The first is an excerpt that hasn't gotten a lot of play from Students for Justice in Palestine's "toolkit" regarding what they called the "historic win" of the October 7 attacks. Referring to reports of Israelis fleeing their homes, they jubilantly wrote:

Settlers are already fleeing the land, their ‘dedication’ to the settler colony is easily broken.

Just so we're on the same page here, the "settlers" in question are almost exclusively persons residing in pre-67 Israel. To SJP, all of Israel is a settlement and all Israelis are settlers.

This is a short sentence, of course, but it is one that needs to be dwelled upon. SJP is, here, fantasizing about ethnic cleansing. There's no other way to put it. Part of what made October 7 a "historic win" is the number of Jews Hamas killed, and another part is that it prompted a number of Israeli Jews to flee for their lives to distant shores. Their vision of what it would mean to "keep winning" would be for even more Jews to die and even more Jews to flee.

I flag this not to make a claim that SJP is unique in its thirst for ethnic cleansing. It is sadly non-unique. One does not struggle to find elements in Jewish or Israeli society who harbor similar ambitions towards the Palestinian people; anyone who believes that either side is pure of this evil is either deluding themselves or engaged in an apologia for it.

My point is that those who desire ethnic cleansing are bad people, and SJP is part of the bad people category. October 7 -- both in terms of the Jews slaughtered, and the scene of more Jews running away -- is a taste of what they hope to see come to pass. When I wrote the other day about how defending SJP's constitutional rights meant being "[forced] to side with people who want to see me and my family dead," I wasn't kidding around. It's important to know who they are and what they're standing for, and in this moment they're among the (horrifically) many groups who make no bones about their dream of ethnically cleansing one group or another.

The second is the news story out of Dagestan, Russia, where a plane landing from Israel was reportedly met by an incipient lynch mob of hundreds of "protesters" demanding "tell us where the Jews are."

Why do I place these in conversation? When one flags calls for the ethnic cleansing of Jews akin to what SJP wrote above, one often encounters two interrelated apologias from those who wish to minimize the gravity of what SJP is calling for. First, there is the claim that Israelis fleeing Israel is no different from and no more tragic than the pied-noirs departing Algeria for France in the wake of decolonization (in the next bullet point after the one I quoted, SJP expressly analogizes Israel to the "settler colony" of French Algeria). And second, there's the claim that Israeli Jews will not truly be displaced because they'll have no trouble finding new homes and hosts in other countries around the world (the U.S., the EU, Russia, wherever).

Both apologias are obviously woefully insufficient. On the first, it's entirely unclear what, as pertains to Israeli Jews, the "France" in this metaphor is supposed to be. There is no homeland to return to; Israel is the homeland of Israelis. On the second, it is flatly stunning how many people can look at global history over the past ... well, any amount of years really, and conclude that "I can't predict the future of Israel/Palestine, but if there's one thing we can be absolutely confident in, it's that if millions of desperate Jews are forced to flee for their lives, the rest of the world will uniformly and instantaneously act to welcome and absorb them with no friction whatsoever."

But the Dagestan incident flags yet another obvious issue: if your view is that Israelis are, to the man, thieving genocidal settler war criminals, that view is clearly incompatible with "and when they try to come to our country, we should welcome them as equals" (for that matter, it's similarly incompatible with "if they stay where they are, the political arrangement I hope to set up should welcome them as equals"). If you truly are of the mindset that October 7 is a "historic win", if you take such a degrading view of Israeli's humanity that you cheer their butchered babies and kidnapped families, then how would you possibly be content with the future vanquished Israelis restarting their lives in Dagestan or anywhere else? Once again, it parallels the manner in which intense right-wing hatred of Palestinians in Palestine (even when sometimes barely cloaked as hatred of Hamas) redounds to generate opposition to supporting Palestinian refugees in America, or similar Islamophobic sentiments prompting conservatives to fulminate against allowing even Afghan and Iraqi allies to resettle in America.

The discourse that supports the murder or expulsion of Jews in Israel does not logically terminate even once those Jews leave Israel. Ultimately, as terrible as the SJP's express position is, its implications are more eliminationist still -- it cannot help but cheer at the thought of Israeli Jews being shot at and killed and chased away everywhere, always on the run, always with hounds nipping at their heels. Dagestan needs to be juxtaposed with SJP's toolkit because it is part of the destination; a sobering reminder of where its politics of maximalism inevitably lead.

UPDATE:

This, in response to a Yair Rosenberg skeet about the Dagestan riot, was just too on-the-nose not to add ("a protest against arriving zionists").

Airstrikes While You Wait

On October 13, Israeli defense officials made the infamous announcement giving Gaza residents "24 hours" to evacuate the northern Gaza Strip in advance of an imminent ground invasion.

Three hundred thirty-six hours later, the ground invasion still hasn't materialized. The Israeli government appears internally divided about the feasibility of a ground invasion -- how it could be managed, whether it can practically achieve the objective of "destroying Hamas", how it interacts with the objective of freeing the hostages, is it possible to accomplish without unacceptable losses. And so, weeks after the invasion seemed to be imminent with the space of a day, we continue to wait on an uneasy precipice.

[T]he government called up around 360,000 reservists and deployed many of them at the border with Gaza. Senior officials soon spoke of removing Hamas from power in the enclave, raising expectations of an imminent ground operation there.

But nearly three weeks later, the Netanyahu government has yet to give the go-ahead, though the military says that it has made a few brief incursions over the border and that it will make still more in the days ahead.

The United States has urged Israel not to rush into a ground invasion, even as it pledges full support for its ally, but domestic considerations have also played a role in the delay. Beyond the hostages, there is concern about the toll of the operation and uncertainty about what exactly it might mean to destroy Hamas, a social movement as well as a military force that is deeply embedded in Gazan society.

When asked what the military objectives of the operation are, an Israeli military spokesman said the goal was to “dismantle Hamas.” How would the army know it had achieved that goal? “That’s a big question, and I don’t think I have the capability right now to answer that one,” the spokesman, Lt. Col. Richard Hecht, said at news briefing a week after the attack.

At one level, this looks like yet another illustration of the Netanyahu government's broader pattern of dithering and incompetence that has characterized its response to this entire crisis. Yet while I bow to no one in viewing Netanyahu as an ineffectual and criminal buffoon, on this narrow point I won't fully agree: if one doesn't yet have a workable plan for how an invasion will destroy Hamas, it is better to hold off on the invasion than to do it just in order to do "something". The only thing worse than dithering about in uncertainty because you don't have a plan is doing a full-scale invasion of a neighboring territory because you don't have a plan, and given the choice between the two I'm glad the Israeli government has so far chosen the former route.

That being said, this puts the Israeli aerial strikes into Gaza in a different light. With the Israeli government locked in paralysis over how to resolve the current crisis, the airstrikes have all the appearance of a deadly holding pattern -- a "something" to do while the army waits for the politicians to figure out an actual plan. Taken that way, it's hard to justify the airstrikes -- and the massive devastation they've caused to Gaza's civilian population -- as justified. 

The airstrikes are cast as necessary to a campaign of "destroying Hamas", and maybe if they actually would accomplish that end they could be warranted. But in reality, when you drill down to it, there's virtually no evidence presented that the airstrikes are at all effective at securing that goal. The airstrikes are not "destroying Hamas". Rather, it seems like Israel doesn't yet have a plan for how to "destroy Hamas" and is lobbing missiles into Gaza while it tries to figure it out. The term "proportional" is often misused in international conflicts -- it's not a requirement that all military violence be meted out at a 1:1 ratio -- but here the actual legal meaning is illustrative: the question is whether the expected military benefit is proportionate to the anticipated civilian cost. There's been little evidence presented that these airstrikes actually have much in the way of expected military benefit vis-a-vis the objective of destroying Hamas, and so is hard to justify against the damage dealt to innocent civilians.

One name given to Netanyahu's overall failed strategy for relating to Palestinians was "managing the conflict". The term, like "mowing the lawn", was a self-conscious abdication of any effort to actually resolve the conflict; it accepted that the conflict would exist in perpetuity and tried to tamp down on the costs (to Israel) to acceptable levels. Hamas' attack on Israel on October 7 is a genuine crisis for Israel, but to a large extent the Netanyahu government's response can be characterized as "managing the crisis", because they have no idea how to resolve it. The goal of destroying Hamas is unquestionably just, but they can't figure out how to accomplish it. They can't give Hamas a win by just capitulating to its demands. They have a justifiably furious populace for whom they've got nothing to show, and an international community that's running out of patience. They're stuck. A "better" government than them would also probably be stuck, but this dilemma is certainly beyond the capacities of the pathetic rabble  of fascists and lickspittles that comprises Netanyahu's coalition. And so again, the airstrikes really seem more than anything like a stalling tactic. They are not a route out of the crisis, they do not even move Israel materially in the direction of emerging from the crisis. Rather, they are a relatively costless (for Israel; for Palestine the costs are devastating) measure it can dole out to do something while it gropes for an actual way out of the crisis that has eluded it thus far.

It is infuriating that the proximate villains of the atrocities on October 7 are largely inaccessible to be brought to justice. At some level, what we're seeing is an interplay between Israel's immense power (in the form of bombs and missiles and tanks) and terrible impotence (to have stopped the attacks in the first place, to bring justice to their actual perpetrators).

And yet: airstrikes on Gaza cannot be justified in perpetuity on the basis of "we can't figure out how to bring Hamas to justice, and we can't think of anything else to do." It is, I'll repeat, infuriating that we can't figure out a way compatible with basic human rights standards to make it so that Hamas pays its deserved price for the atrocities it committed on October 7. This is why I've been repeating ad nauseum that we need to devote a lot more of our creative energy to thinking about alternatives that can secure Israel's existential security interests in the wake of those attacks (including the interest in not sending the message that brutal massacres of civilians are the best way to secure boons for the Gaza population, which is why even from a left-humanist perspective "just give Gaza everything it wants" is horrifyingly less feasible now than it was on October 6). But it's also the case that the argument against a ceasefire, insofar as it takes the form "we can't cease our fire precisely because we haven't figured out yet how our continuing to fire will secure our valid security interests" simply does not work as an argument, and with each passing day it grows less and less persuasive.

To put it in stark terms: when do the airstrikes have to stop? When "Hamas is destroyed"? We've already said that the airstrikes don't seem like they'll do much to advance that agenda, so if that's the answer then it merges with "never". Just a perpetual bombing of Gaza until the "rubble bounces". But, as horrifying as October 7 was, it does not and cannot serve as a foundation for "Israel can bomb Gaza forever for no apparent significant military gain or purpose." The mismatch between the conceptual justification ("Hamas must be destroyed") and the actual practice (airstrikes which nobody seems to think will actually do much to destroy Hamas) means that the two categories will never actually merge, and that is a direction of perpetual, endless war.

I've spoken critically about the calls for a "ceasefire" which really aren't about a "ceasefire" at all, but boil down to the desire for "a flat rule that Israel is not permitted to pursue any of its security objectives via projection of military power". But the notion that, if Israel cannot figure how to actually pursue its valid security objectives via projection of military power it shouldn't be given license to simply exert military power indefinitely for its own sake, has a lot more purchase. The simple fact is that if Israel can show an actual plan for how a military operation -- whether we're talking airstrikes, a ground invasion, special forces raids, or something else -- actually will accomplish the end of "destroying Hamas", that's a conversation, and is not something that should be preemptively and categorically ruled impermissible. But right now, Israel doesn't seem to have any such plan, and the notion that it can indefinitely immiserate Palestinian civilians as a sort of holding pattern while it tries to figure one out is harder to stomach. 

Put differently: it is understandably infuriating to those who were directly and indirectly terrorized by Hamas' violence to witness Israel dithering about in uncertainty because it doesn't have a workable plan to resolve this crisis. But it's still better than Israel lofting bombs into Gaza indefinitely because it doesn't have a workable plan to resolve this crisis. If Israel can't determine how a military operation will actually translate into significantly advancing its legitimate security objectives, then it should cease fire unless and until it can figure it out.

DeSantis, ADL Call for SJP Ban

A few days ago, Gov. DeSantis ordered Florida universities to "deactivate" campus chapters of Students for Justice in Palestine, on the grounds that SJP provides "material support" to an international terrorist organization (i.e., Hamas). Yesterday, the ADL (along with the Brandeis Center) sent a letter to nearly 200 university presidents effectively urging them to do the same: demanding that the universities investigate their SJP chapters for "potential violations of the prohibition against materially supporting a foreign terrorist organization."

That the ADL has joined this campaign is, at this point, probably overdetermined, given the confluence of:

1. The ADL's general rightward turn on matters relating to Israel and Zionism over the past year;
2. The genuine decay in the campus environment for young American Jews, for which SJP bears more than a share of the responsibility; and
3. The long-standing intense (mutual) loathing between the ADL and SJP, where either one would sell out the constitutional rights of the other for a quarter and give back two dimes in change.

Nonetheless, this call is an obvious flouting of the First Amendment (for public universities) and academic freedom (for privates). As Howard Wasserman puts it, I resent being "[forced] to side with people who want to see me and my family dead," but thanks to DeSantis and the ADL, I'm now in that position.

To be clear: the "material support for terrorism" claim is -- with respect to the evidence presented -- absolutely spurious (FIRE's letter to Florida universities explains why). While the ADL claims to "recognize and support students’ First Amendment rights to freedom of speech, even odious speech," it flags nothing in its letter that goes beyond "odious speech" in support of Hamas. The sole example of alleged "material support" provided by SJP is rhetoric in its toolkit stating:

“We must act as part of this movement. All of our efforts continue the work and resistance of the Palestinians on the ground.” The toolkit refers to the Hamas-led terrorist attack in Israel as “the resistance.” 

This in no way supports an inference of "material support" under the statute. "Material support" has to include more than just advocacy in support of the terrorist organization or rhetorical claims of alignment -- it must entail things like transfer of funds or the provision of a tangible, material benefit. As the Supreme Court made clear in Humanitarian Law Project v. Holder, as expansive as the "material support" statute may be, the prohibition on providing material support to terrorism nonetheless cannot encompass "a regulation of independent speech ... even if the Government were to show that such speech benefits foreign terrorist organizations." "Material" requires actual materials, not just speech.

Just a few weeks ago, there was a virtual consensus that campus SJP actors were a disreputable fringe that nobody should take seriously (this was how the left justified their complaints that we were paying too much attention to "letters sent from Harvard" -- they conceded the letters were gross, but argued that they represented a piddling and insignificant political faction toiling in deserved marginality. Intentional or not, I appreciated the concession!). Now, thanks to DeSantis and his buddies, the SJP can adopt the far more comfortable mantle of First Amendment martyrs. Of course, if there is evidence of actual "material support" -- SJP funneling funds to Hamas, for example, the ADL should provide it (and I'd add, the proper investigators of such claims are law enforcement officials, not university bureaucrats). But as it is presented here, the effort to ban SJP is nothing more than an effort to ban a noxious organization on the basis of its noxious viewpoint, and one cannot support that and claim to be comporting with either the First Amendment (for public universities) or academic freedom.

The Dangerous Weave of Historical Maximalism

The principle that it is wrong to slaughter civilians -- going house-to-house with the express agenda of gruesomely murdering the men, women, and children you find there -- is seemingly so obvious it seems impossible imagine it must be "taught". Surely, it is a principle we all understand at some intuitive, base level. And yet, history is replete with such murders and massacres -- in all parts of the world, in every time period, amongst persons of every social strata and political proclivity -- a history that somehow must be compatible with our knowing, at some deep level, that it is wrong. As a species, we are good at murder. But we're experts at rationalizing it.

It's important to know history. But arguments from history are dangerous things. History offers a near-infinitely rich and diverse series of threads, from which one can weave virtually any tapestry one desires. For a species that excels at rationalizing brutality of the worst forms, this should concern us, for all of us can easily be seduced by a historical narrative that eases us back into apologia, justification, or even celebration of unthinkable atrocities. 

The experience of the past few weeks has been, to a large extent, the witnessing of folks -- sometimes our colleagues, sometimes our friends -- weaving tapestries of death in real time. There is little more depressing than reading Facebook posts and op-eds and blog posts by people you know and, on most days, like, and watching them work through the process by which they become apologists for massacres.

None of us should be too confident in our immunity from the pattern. Indeed, there's a degree to which this danger is most prominent for the well-informed, the educated, the "experts". There's research that suggests that education increases ideological polarization, because every bit of knowledge -- every book you read or conference you attend -- is, or can be, the raw materials through which one can support and fortify one's own preferred narrative against challenge or refutation. It is no accident, I think, that many of the worst voices on Israel and Palestine are "the professionals" who've steeped themselves in the debate for years -- the PhD students, the organizational warriors. It's not just that the debate itself is so toxic that it can't help but have a corrupting effect (though it is that). It's that the process of learning more, if one isn't careful, paradoxically becomes a mechanism to hate better and more righteously than would otherwise be possible.

One can easily tell a historical tale through which Israel is naught but a savage European colonial imposition, to which any form of resistance is necessary and appropriate. Tell this narrative frequently and loudly and univocally enough, and it degrades one's ability to call atrocity "atrocity", potentially beyond repair, as we saw over the past few weeks:

Suddenly forced to decide whether, in the wake of occupation and besiegement, a Palestinian response of "a systemic campaign of house-to-house kidnappings, rapes, and executions" is a valid one, we saw far, far too many individuals unable to say "no" (or at least, say it with any level of decisiveness). This failure stems directly from the tempting broth that assures us that, if the provocation is severe enough and the injury severe enough, no amount of "response" could ever be disproportionate. And so we see that, if you refuse to let yourself think that anything could be "too far", there's no end to the depths of hell you may find yourself apologizing for.

But to be clear: others can tell other tales, wherein Israel is naught but Jewish decolonization and liberation, for which any measures are justified to valorize and defend (there's a story, I've said, where revanchist Zionism is what happens when Fanon wins in a rout); or where Palestine (in quotes) is itself a colonial invasion which cannot be permitted to exist and must be extirpated by any means necessary. All of these tales weave history differently, and all of them (this is important) pull from portions of "reality" (neither the colonial or decolonial elements of Zionism are simply made up), but in their maximalism and extremity they are seductresses back to the pattern of atrocity justification.

That I used some version of "(de)colonialism" in all of those stories is no accident, but not because I think the concept of "(de)colonialism" is inherently diseased. To the contrary, we speak in the argot of the times, and so it is unsurprising (albeit not especially revelatory) that today's maximalist narratives will try to bootstrap them onto those terms which seem most vibrant in the potential for justifying radical action (and what are atrocities if not radical?). In different times and contexts, the argot will be different, and once again that very polysemous character of history is part of what enables it to so easily serve as raw materials for justificatory atrocity. Monsters justify the infliction of atrocities via many words -- "decolonialization", "self-defense", "averting genocide", "patriotism," "turnabout", "just deserts", "liberation" -- and their usage neither discredits the words, nor does their use of the words mean we must credit their atrocity.

So what do we do, when confronted with this vast, untamable polysemousness of history and ideology? One choice is to try to assert, with evermore earnest, desperate, or self-righteous vigor, the One True Story (Zionism IS ethnonationalist colonialism, Palestinian nationalism IS exterminationist antisemitism) that can supply the threads necessary to weave our tapestries of death; that can explain why it is okay (or understandable, or a tragic necessity, or commensurable tit-for-tat) to machine-gun concert-goers or to torch olive trees, or to permanently deprive millions of Palestinians citizenship rights on the land where they live, or to eradicate the one political space on the planet where Jews have control over their own destiny. That so many find that path appealing is, I think, precisely because of the destination it promises -- the seduction of being able to hate and murder and pillage and deface and expropriate and have it all be justified.

But that is not the only choice. We should know history well enough to respect it, and respect it enough to know that it cannot truly be mastered for the service of any one political cause. Historical maximalism is, ultimately, a corruption of history, and for that reason it will never persuade anyone not already primed to be persuaded. In cases of protracted group conflict, what one inevitably gets is dueling maximalists; two sides both utterly convinced of their righteousness and ready to scorch the earth on the path to heaven. 

Precisely because the path of historical maximalism promises everything, it can ultimately offer nothing: "a moral race to the bottom" that is inevitably a path towards death. Acknowledgment of the pluripotent strands of history can be the means through which we resist maximalism and extremity, resist the siren's call of boundless violence, and instead reform around a pragmatic humanism whose very lack of complete self-assuredness serves as a bulwark against our instinct to rationalize atrocity.

One does not need to behead infants near Sderot. One does not need to set fire to Huwara. These are choices, as is the choice to serve as apologists for them. They're choice made inside a weave of history that sings out with the false promise that they are justified or inevitable or in some way not as bad as we know, in our heart of hearts, they truly are. 

It is a terrible thing, to watch people you know and love and care about submit the temptation of history and ideology to defend brutality in the service of maximalism. I hope more people make better choices.

The Third Stage of Road Construction

Years ago, I remember reading a Dave Barry column that was centered around the various stages of road construction. The first stage entailed closing down the road and making everyone's life impossibly inconvenient. "In the second stage", he continued, "nothing happens. This stage may last for several years."

This old column came to mind recently as I was navigating my own commute to Lewis & Clark. This past summer, some signs went up saying that the street which anchors my normal route to work would be closed from July 13 to October 13. Why? I couldn't find any information (finally, just a few days ago, I found this). But no matter -- the detour wasn't too extensive, and of course, most of the work would be done over the summer when I wasn't going into the office that frequently.

July, August, and September go by. I drive past the work site, and I never once see anybody doing anything. There's just a lonely sign announcing a road closure and a promise that the route will reopen on October 13.

Finally, October 13 rolls around. I drive past the work site to see if the closure has ended, and I see two things: (1) People finally doing something that looks like work (at the very least, some construction vehicles and folks in orange vests; and (2) a sign saying that now the road is closed through November 1.

As far as I can tell, for three months from the time the road was closed until the time it was scheduled to be reopened, nothing happened. Work didn't actually start until after it was scheduled to have finished.

Come on Portland -- get it together.

In the Middle of It All

Shaul Magid has a very interesting, provocative, and thoughtful essay in Religion Dispatches about the current state of affairs in Israel and Palestine -- where it came from, and where it is going. Magid is an author for whom my general orientation is that I rarely agree with everything he says, but always find him worth reading, and so it is here. But one point in particular that he makes that very much resonates is that Hamas' attack on Israel "is not the beginning, nor the end, but as with most things, somewhere in the horrifying middle."

Nothing in geopolitics comes on a fresh slate, and there will always be history trailing behind us (and laid out in front of us). It is not justification or excuse to observe the obvious truth that Hamas' attack did not emerge ex nihilo. The same, of course, goes for the responses to that attack, which also cannot be viewed as wholly discrete, isolated events that can be analyzed and approved of/condemned atomistically. But one thought I keep returning to, as I read both justifications for Israel's campaign against Hamas and calls for that campaign to end in a ceasefire, is that a lot of people seem to think that we're not in the middle, that we could be on the verge of (if we make the right moves, anyway) the end. And in doing so, I think they're skipping past some essential but difficult question about what comes after whatever comes next.

Start with Israel's backers, for whom the call of the day is that things cannot proceed as they did before vis-a-vis Hamas in Gaza. I agree. As I said in my very first post on these atrocities, they were (among other things) a catastrophic failure of Israeli security policy; a complete discrediting of what came before. But before we go into what might change, we need to correctly identify what it is that was "before".

For most of the time following Israel's disengagement from Gaza and Hamas' ensuing takeover of the territory, Israel's policy has been one colloquially dubbed "mowing the lawn." In this metaphor, "the lawn" is Hamas' military capacity and willingness to inflict violence against Israelis across the border. When that capacity/willingness gets too dangerous (the grass grows too high), Israel launches an attack that depletes Hamas' stockpiles of men and munitions (the grass is cut), forcing Hamas to recuperate and recover. As time passes, Hamas inevitably replenishes its stockpiles of weaponry and its willingness to use them (the grass starts growing again), and the cycle repeats itself.

Notice that this policy is not one even aimed at securing a durable peace. It presupposes an ongoing and essentially endless cycle of violence; albeit one controlled at levels that are presumptively tolerable (for Israelis, anyway). That each Israeli attack inevitably will be followed by another one however many months or years later is not a failing of the strategy, it is the point of the strategy (just as it is not a "failure" when mowing the lawn that you'll have to do it again in a few months).

This was the strategy that failed and was decisively discredited on October 7. It is a failure both in its view that an endless cycle of low-grade violence could be kept at "tolerable" levels indefinitely, and in its broader apathy towards actually pursuing something that looks like a just and durable peace.

So now we move to today. The call to "destroy Hamas" is presented as a change from the prior policy of mowing the lawn; it's no longer about temporarily depleting Hamas' capacity to inflict violence, it is a decisive resolution -- the end of the story.

But how is it different, really, from "mowing the lawn"? To be clear, I shed no tears for Hamas' destruction; they're an evil terrorist organization who've inflicted untold misery on Israelis and Palestinians alike. But it's hard to imagine what "destroying Hamas" means in practice. If we're just talking about degrading the actual, social-political-military organization's specific ability to conduct operations, then maybe it's feasible -- but only because another organization will rise to take its place (and if "Hamas" is in 2024 replaced by "Babas" which does all of the same things, what has actually been accomplished?). If the goal is to permanently obliterate the ability of any actor, under any name, in the Gaza Strip to engage in insurgent violence against Israel, then it's not feasible at all -- surely, at this point, we've discredited the notion that Gaza can be bombed into permanent acquiescent quietude vis-a-vis Israel.

Put differently, a call to "destroy Hamas", without more, is just another iteration of mowing the lawn -- cutting the grass shorter, perhaps, but otherwise a repetition of the same failed strategy. It is not an end, it is a middle, and if left to its own devices it will continue the endless immiseration of the Palestinian people in service of eventually leading to another repetition of the terror we saw on October 7. So anyone calling to "destroy Hamas" has to have some plan for what to do afterwards. Those who say "destroy Hamas" and then stop there are committing the fallacy of assuming that "destroying Hamas" is the end of the problem in Israel and Gaza, and that's just obviously untrue.

So what is the "more" I propose? Simple: massive aid and reconstruction for Gaza. I spoke a few days ago of the grimmest silver lining of terrible war sometimes finally yielding a comprehensive peace, and if the terrible war is already upon us, we might as well try to leverage it to get the lasting peace.  Call it realistic, call it an ego-salve, but exploit the opportunity to say "now that Hamas has been destroyed, we can do ...." X, where X is good, humanitarian, reconstructive policies that break the pattern of entrapment and immiseration that has characterized the Gaza Strip for decades. 

There will be plenty of people who resist this; who say "how can you propose giving billions to Gaza after what happened on October 7?" Worse, Hamas -- being a terrorist organization -- isn't as prone to being "destroyed" in the way that, say, a corporation or even a state government could be. It'd likely be impossible to fully obliterate them; there will always be someone with a gun and a commitment to Hamas' ideology running around somewhere.

But my mind returns to the Marshall Plan after World War II, which surely was one of the greatest foreign policy decisions in modern history. No doubt, one could say, no country deserved less in the way of repair and support than Germany after World War II. Yet there's little doubt, comparing the outcome of post WWII to post WWI, that the choice to invest in reconstruction and repair paid off in incalculable dividends. The decision to focus less on retribution ala the Treaty of Versailles -- or, perhaps more accurately, to let "retribution" be in the military defeat and in the Nuremburg Tribunals, not in the post-war occupation of Germany (on the western side, at least) -- and more on creating future conditions of prosperity and fraternity seems, in context, almost impossibly humanistic, and yet it paid off beyond I imagine even the wildest hopes of its architects. If we can do it for Germany in 1946, we can do it for Gaza in 2023. Otherwise, we're just going to relive the same cycle again and again. 

So that has to be the deal: if you're going to destroy Hamas, then once you've declared "mission accomplished" there has to be a commitment to reconstruction. And moreover, one cannot use the impossibility of fully, completely, and in toto destroying Hamas as an excuse to never declare "mission accomplished". There's no universe in which a commitment to reconstruction doesn't take some leap of faith, but that has to be part of the deal.

That's the short-sightedness I see on the pro-Israel side of things. But there's actually something similar happening from those calling for a "ceasefire". Now, ceasefire can mean many things, and at its most literal it can mean nothing more than an intentionally temporary and short-term reprieve of hostilities to permit humanitarian aid to enter and medical and civilian evacuations to proceed without danger. It also can be temporary in the sense of a hope that the objectives which parties might rightfully be able to pursue in war could also be achieved via peaceful negotiation, so we should at least try the latter before (if talks fail) resorting to the former. 

But my sense is that most people calling for a "ceasefire" want something more durable than a few days where aid trucks can go in and out of the territories unmolested. Nor are they, in any realistic sense, hoping that with a few days of conversation Israel will be able to achieve its valid security objectives through a process of negotiation, while recognizing that a military option remains validly on the table. They think that any Israeli military response is inherently unjust and must be opposed, under any circumstances. "Ceasefire" is in some ways a misnomer; the actual demand is something closer to "the international community's position should be a flat rule that Israel is not permitted to pursue any of its security objectives via projection of military power".

A few days ago I wrote about why the call for a cease-fire seemed so futile. The basic thrust of my argument was that (a) Israel existentially cannot allow Hamas to view October 7 as a net victory, and (b) nobody has yet come up with a credible alternative beyond a bruising military response that would prevent Hamas from seeing October 7 as a net victory. An "everyone, go back to your corners" ceasefire would, at this point in time, still be seen by Hamas as it coming out ahead. Horribly, this sense would be amplified, not diminished, the more "ceasefire" is conjoined with new momentum for aid to the Gaza Strip or alleviations of the Israeli blockade -- it would suggest that brutally and shockingly massacring Israeli civilians is the most effective strategy at convincing the international community to come to Palestine's aid. And internalizing that lesson, as I said, really would be an existential threat to Israel -- it's something that the state absolutely cannot allow to happen.

But what I've come to realize over the past few days is that, just as many of Israel's supporters thinking "destroying Hamas" will be the end, rather than the middle, of the story; many of its detractors also think that we could be close to the end. Anyone who went to Hebrew School is familiar with an old saw, repeated ad nauseum in certain circles, that goes "If the Palestinians laid down their weapons there would be no more war; if the Israelis laid down their weapons there would be no more Israel." And it occurs to me that many of the pro-ceasefire commentators genuinely believe this, but in the reverse. They really believe, with absolute, 100% confidence, that if Israel just stands down and turns the other cheek, and presumably does various other pro-Palestine actions (which might include anything from "end the blockade of Gaza" to "permit a right of return for descendants of refugees"), this whole thing will be over. In a sense, Israel has no valid security interests going forward because it always, at any point it chooses, has the immediate and unconditional capacity to end the situation of security threat at its sole discretion.

From that vantage point, proponents of a ceasefire don't have to come up with an "alternative" to military action that will prevent Hamas from viewing October 7 as a net victory, because the whole thing will be moot. It wouldn't matter if Hamas "internalized the message" that brutally and shockingly massacring Israeli civilians is the most effective strategy at convincing the international community to come to Palestine's aid, because they'd have already achieved all that they wanted, and wouldn't have need to resort to that tactic again. We'd be at the end of the story, not the middle.

Framed that way, the logic -- indeed, the moral imperative -- of a ceasefire becomes undeniable. But it all depends on believing, with 100% certainty, that all Hamas wants is whatever boons and succor would result from a ceasefire and any ensuing alleviation of Gaza's humanitarian conditions. That seems unrealistic on two levels. First, of course, a ceasefire could not realistically provide conditions that represent a permanent and durable end to the conflict. But second, it is based off a dogmatic and unsustainable believe that all Hamas wants and all Hamas is fighting for is justice. It fails to take seriously the seemingly undeniable reality that Hamas actually, genuinely wants unjust things vis-a-vis Israeli Jews, and will be inclined to keep fighting in order to attain these unjust ends. It's not all they want, but it is the height of naivete to think that Hamas will be satisfied -- that the story would end -- if only Israel agreed to the demands of justice as conceptualized by western peace activists. And again, that belief is essential to the project, because if we're still in the "horrifying middle", then we do have to think about the risks and consequences of enabling Hamas to view October 7 as a winning strategy, and we do have to figure out what alternative to a military campaign could prevent that being the moral of the story.

That last part is an earnest plea. War is awful in general, and will be especially awful here to innocent Palestinian civilians who are functionally trapped in a zone of active hostilities. Moreover, as alluded to above I'm dubious this war, for all the death and destruction it will ladle onto an already overflowing pile of human misery, will even achieve the (not-so-)modest objective of permanently degrading the ability of Palestinians in the Gaza Strip to inflict violence on Israeli civilians. Nobody should be excited for this, nobody should think this is a good thing.

What's needed now is an off-ramp, something that can plausibly induce Israel to not go down a seemingly inexorable path without it being seen as giving Hamas a win. How do we, to alter the sardonic advice given to the U.S. as it found itself stuck in Vietnam, convince Israel to declare victory and then stay home? Keep in mind that, with respect to everything I just said about the strategic necessity of shifting the moral of the story, none of it at all alters the initial set of observations that an Israeli ground campaign in Gaza would be disastrous for Israel, to say nothing of Palestinians. The whole problem is that this terrible option still seems to be "better" than all the alternatives, and if that is to change it will only be if an alternative that successfully convinces Israel that Hamas didn't win and won't perceive itself as having won.

If someone can propose a genuine off-ramp that can credibly avert this calamity, they deserve a Nobel Peace Prize and everyone's support. And I'll say I'm not opposed to a ceasefire that's meant to hold the peace while that solution is generated. But to come up with an alternative, it's necessary to recognize that we're in the middle of the story, not the end. As much as we might like to, we cannot skip to the conclusion.

A Purely Federated U.S. "State" of Territoria?

This is one of those thoughts I had in the shower that might not go anywhere, but I wanted to run with it a bit.

As many of you know, one of my pet issues is statehood for all American territorial possessions. Not just DC statehood, but statehood for Guam, the U.S. Virgin Islands, American Samoa -- the whole shebang. I'm actually a bit of a hardliner on this in that I don't think the territories should have the option of remaining territories -- either statehood or independence. There's no justification, in a modern democracy, for there to be territorial possessions permanently under the domain of a sovereign but lacking full democratic rights and representation in that sovereign.

One problem with my vision is that many of the territories in question are quite small -- much smaller than any current state. Leaving aside Puerto Rico, which is somewhat of a special case, the largest American territory by population is Guam, with a little over 150,000 residents. By comparison, the smallest U.S. state is Wyoming, with a population of approximately 578,000.

Now, in theory I have no problem with a little state-packing of territories with trivial populations (that's in part how we got two Dakotas). But it's also the case that if you add all the non-Puerto Rico U.S. territories together, the population totals close to 340,000 -- still considerably smaller than Wyoming, but not absurdly so. If the only objection to territorial statehood is population, I don't think that objection holds to the combined state of "Territoria".

Of course, it might seem absurd to combine into one state the U.S. Virgin Islands (in the Caribbean) with Guam, the Northern Marianas Islands, and American Samoa (half a world away in the Pacific Ocean). Hell, even Guam and American Samoa, despite both being "Pacific Island Territories", are more than 3,600 miles apart. How would "state" government even work in that context?

But that made me wonder -- is there any problem with a "state" deciding to organize itself on a completely federated level -- total autonomy for each traditional "territory", with no or virtually no power in the "state" legislature? Could there be a "state" of Territoria which exists only to have a Representative and two Senators, but which otherwise is an empty shell comprising the actually active and empowered "local" governments of the constituent territories?

I don't claim this is a miracle drug solution. For starters, it would end the distinctive (albeit non-voting delegate) representation of each individual territory. Especially given that Guam would comprise almost 45% of the population of "Territoria" on its own, I can certainly imagine the other territories crying foul at that. And as I said, I don't actually have a problem with the "pure" state-packing play of giving the U.S. Virgin Islands and its 87,000 denizens full statehood on its own.

But it's an interesting thought, no -- the concept of a "state" that exists only as a vector for national representation, but otherwise makes no claims to be the governing body for its constituent territories? I at least find it a bit intriguing, if only as a thought experiment that might open other doors.

What Will the Moral of the Story Be?

Daniel Drezner has a good piece up on the futility of external "calls for a ceasefire" between Israel and Hamas, that helped crystallize some of my feelings on the subject. Many people, as Drezner observes, have written eloquently and persuasively about the disaster that would be sustained Israeli ground campaign in Gaza -- an operation that will endanger countless Israeli and Palestinian lives while simultaneously being unlikely to meaningfully alter Israel's long-term security posture and severely escalating the risk of regional conflagration. Drezner links to articles by Marc Lynch and Daniel Levy and Zaha Hassan as good examples. And like Drezner, I agree with this assessment. The prospect of more war and more killing and more devastation is sickening to me. It won't bring back the dead. It probably won't even permanently degrade Hamas' combat capacities. It just feels like meeting death with more death.

And yet, Drezner observes, few of these commentators have much in the way of practical suggestions for what Israel should be doing instead to respond to Hamas' attack. other than intoning the word "cease-fire". He continues:

Understand that Israel is going to respond because they see no other option after the loss of their deterrent power against Hamas. This is precisely what any other state in the international system would do if it possessed similar capabilities. The intentional attacks on Israeli civilians was heinous. No government could not retaliate, could not demonstrate the severe consequences of such an assault, and still remain a government. This is Politics of National Security 101.

[....] 

For example, I do not disagree with anything Lynch writes in his Foreign Affairs essay. What is less clear to me is what Marc is proposing as a suitable alternative. And this is what keeps nagging at me whenever I am asked if there is anything that can be done to reduce the loss of life. A ground invasion will be grueling in and of itself. It might widen the conflict to include the West Bank, Lebanon, and Iran. But I cannot necessarily think of another policy option that produces a superior outcome for Israel.

Many people have made arguments of the form "no government could not retaliate" over the past few days, but I think Drezner is getting at an important clarification here. Arguments of this sort sometimes are made in emotional terms -- a country which faced such a terrible wound cannot be expected to turn the other cheek towards it. And against that position, those promoting a cease-fire often reply -- correctly -- that no amount of retaliation or bombing is going to bring back the Israeli dead. If the only argument for a military campaign was one of vengeance, of the inchoate sense that Israel has to do ... something to avenge those Hamas murdered, then I would agree that the calls for a cease-fire have purchase. As understandable as that boil for vengeance might be, it's not a good enough reason for the death and devastation that will inevitably follow a ground invasion of Gaza.

But there's more than a mere emotive desire to do "something" at work here. As a matter of pure, cold strategic logic, Israel cannot allow the moral of the story of Hamas' attack to be "this is a winning move." The attack itself was catastrophic on its own terms. If it is seen by Palestinian militant groups as winning strategy, that's more than catastrophic, that's an actual existential threat. The phrase "reestablish deterrence" may be overused (this post by Cheryl Rofer was a helpful corrective), but if it ever had resonance it does here. When faced with a situation like what Israel just went through, a state must demonstrate that the massacre of its civilians is a capital-letter Bad Idea for the massacrers. And so Israel's response, whatever it is, must in some way effectively communicate that message.

And the fact of the matter is, we're not there yet. Imagine that Israel tomorrow announced a suite of policy alterations towards the Gaza Strip that are the dream of all those signing cease-fire petitions: an end to the siege, a release of prisoners, a commitment to reconstruction, the works. What would be the result? It would be to suggest that, as terrible as Hamas' actions were, they were ultimately what shocked the Israeli government out of its torpor and forced it to the negotiating table. Anyone reading this blog probably can name a half-dozen people in their orbit who already have their "Power Cedes Nothing Without a Demand!" Instagram posts ready to roll. And while the prospect of celebratory postings by really annoying people also is not a good enough reason to blow things up (somewhere I had a post about how any Israeli/Palestinian peace agreement worth its salt is going to involve some people you can't stand being happy, and that can't be a reason to torpedo the agreement), the problem is they'd have a point, and a point that if internalized would be incredibly dangerous in any circumstance where the Israeli/Palestinian conflict doesn't end tomorrow. I'm not sure I agree with Ilya Somin that the Gilad Shalit deal laid the groundwork for Hamas' attack twelve years later, but the risk he's flagging isn't invented. Israel at some level needs to devastate Hamas because the alternative is that Hamas learns that operations like these are winning strategies that should be repeated as frequently as possible.

The fact is that, as much suffering as the people of Gaza have already endured, if an actual cease-fire was imposed today Hamas would almost certainly view its operation as a net win, and Israel cannot allow it to come to that conclusion. So the question for those promoting a cease-fire, as Drezner alludes to, is what pathway other than an overwhelming military response changes the moral of the story? What realistic and enforceable proposal would avoid the death and destruction of a military campaign while nonetheless making clear that operations such as the one Hamas just launched are a Bad Idea?

It's not clear what that alternative could be, and that's the problem that makes the military assault feel so inevitable. Maybe Hamas' leadership turning itself in to be prosecuted for war crimes at the Hague could qualify, but that's obviously not on offer (though I've seen some people suggest it be added to the various petitions floating around anyway -- after all, if they're not limiting themselves to things that might realistically come to pass ....). Some form of reparation (what would that look like?)? A long-sought after diplomatic boon (Saudi recognition)? I don't know. None of these seem plausible, let alone sufficient.

To be sure, this doesn't mean there isn't any space for any public or diplomatic discourse urging restraint on the part of Israel. The need to change the moral doesn't license any and all measures; not every possible Israeli action can be justified based on the need to prevent Hamas from claiming a win. The example I gave last week of saying no to starvation policies is one obvious example, as is opposing the flatly sadistic "bounce the rubble" position of militaristic zealots like Tom Cotton. Ensuring an actual, not just pro forma, opportunity for civilians to evacuate is another (that the initially reported "24 hour" deadline has long since come and gone without the ground campaign beginning suggests that something got through regarding the insufficiency of that timeline). And on the point of evacuation, it also is imperative that the United States extract ironclad assurances that evacuated civilians will be able to return to their homes at the conclusion of hostilities -- a requirement that is demanded by the provisions of international law that permit temporary evacuations of civilians from combat zones, but one can forgive Gaza civilians if they are more than a bit mistrustful of Israel's commitment to that principle). All of these are viable and salutary interventions, and Israel has no justification for opposing them, even if they do make its military endeavors more difficult. 

(It's also worth noting that Hamas must allow, and cannot obstruct, civilian evacuations. Hamas has openly urged Palestinians civilians not to leave the northern Gaza Strip, and there are reports it is actively impeding evacuation efforts).

But the terrible truth is that what's needed now probably isn't public calls for a cease-fire. What's needed now is an off-ramp, something that can plausibly induce Israel to not go down a seemingly inexorable path without it being seen as giving Hamas a win. How do we, to alter the sardonic advice given to the U.S. as it found itself stuck in Vietnam, convince Israel to declare victory and then stay home? Keep in mind that, with respect to everything I just said about the strategic necessity of shifting the moral of the story, none of it at all alters the initial set of observations that an Israeli ground campaign in Gaza would be disastrous for Israel, to say nothing of Palestinians. The whole problem is that this terrible option still seems to be "better" than all the alternatives, and if that is to change it will only be if an alternative that successfully convinces Israel that Hamas didn't win and won't perceive itself as having won. Simply intoning "ceasefire" is not, on its own, such an alternative. If you don't care about any of that and just want to express a message that war is bad, then go ahead and intone. But if you're actually serious about trying to effectuate a change of course, then these are the questions you need to consider.

It is a commentary on the twisted state of the world that the closest thought I have to something optimistic is also somehow among the grimmest. In 1979, Israel and Egypt signed a historic peace treaty. History is not monocausal, but one common narrative about the treaty notes how it came in the aftermath of the 1973 Yom Kippur War, Israel's bloodiest conflict since independence. The key was that both parties viewed themselves as negotiating from a position of strength -- as having "won" something. Israel had successfully repulsed the invasion and had shown that it would not be dislodged from the region. Egypt, though, had -- in contrast to the humiliation of the Six Day War -- fought well and significantly bloodied the nose of their Israeli counterparts, showing they were a military force to be reckoned with. The most cynical way of putting it is that the Egyptians killed enough Israelis, and the Israelis killed enough Egyptians, that both sides could view the peace deal as something they had "won", something they'd extracted through strength, not ceded through capitulation.

So the grimmest silver lining would be to imagine that maybe, after Israel's sure-to-be cataclysmic operation in the Gaza Strip, maybe both sides will see themselves as having killed enough of the other so they can call it a victory. Israel can say it's lopped off Hamas' head and so now a true reconstruction can begin. Whatever Hamas-substitute inevitably rises to take its place can say that the Palestinian resistance forced the Zionists to come to heel. Both sides claim a terrible victory, and so can say that the ensuing peace is something they won rather than capitulated to.

It is, again, a twisted and grim "silver lining". The only thing worse would be for all that's happened to happen, and then for nothing to change at all.

Passing Solidarity's Acid Test

I am honored to have co-authored a piece in the Forward with Alan Solow, former chair of the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations, on how the Biden administration's national strategy for combatting antisemitism -- in particular, its focus on building solidarity among diverse groups in the fight against antisemitism -- is facing an early acid test in the aftermath of Hamas' horrific terrorist attack on southern Israel.

And my honest assessment is that the focus on solidarity is bearing fruit. Yes, there have been some high-profile incidents from certain segments of the left that have excused or even valorized antisemitism. We've all seen them, and I (along with many others) haven't hesitated to call them out. But these cases -- as large as they loom -- have objectively been drowned out by a much larger and unified chorus of condemnation. The grotesque behavior of a few is important to identify, but it should not obscure the larger pattern: 

Though vocal, the cadre of extremists who publicly cheer antisemitic terror finds itself increasingly isolated. Though shaken, the community of Jews and non-Jews who have committed to standing together in solidarity against terror have risen to the moment, forging a stronger and more vibrant bond with each passing day.

This doesn't mean that maintaining these bonds will be easy or can be left to autopilot. The events of the last week tested us in terrible ways, and the events of the coming weeks will no doubt continue to do so. But that is exactly why plans must be put in place before the moment of reckoning, and why a politics of isolation, ostracism, exclusion, and division constitutes a luxury we cannot afford. 

We're facing an acid test for solidarity, in circumstances more horrible than almost anyone could imagine. But we can, and we will, pass it.

Grief Over Dead Jews is not the Cause of Palestinian Suffering

At Dissent Magazine, Gabriel Winant has an essay arguing for why it is wrong to grieve murdered Israelis, in response to Joshua Leifer's call for a "humane left" that recognizes the atrocities inflicted upon the Israeli people even as it mobilizes to defend Palestinian rights (Leifer authors a searing response of his own here). 

Winant's argument against grieving dead Israelis is not exactly the one you're thinking of -- that the dead are "colonists" or "settlers" and so got what was coming to them. It's slightly more roundabout, though ultimately still rather straightforward. 

Israel, Winant says, is "a machine for the conversion of grief into power." In the context of Israel and Zionism, to grieve dead Jews is -- no matter the intentions of the bereft -- a means of providing fuel to the Israeli war machine, "an enormous grief machine, the best in the world, up and running, feeding on bodies and tears and turning them into bombs." Winant's argument is not, to be clear, the position that certain forms of grief and grieving lend themselves to the promotion and justification of future atrocities. It is that any type of grief, no matter how humanistic in spirit, is ultimately a choice to "participate in the ideological project of the Israeli state," and so all grief over dead Israelis should be interpreted as complicity in the deaths of Palestinians.

The Israeli government doesn’t care if you, a principled person, perform your equal grief for all victims: it will gobble up your grief for Jews and use it to make more victims of Palestinians, while your balancing grief for Palestinians will be washed away in the resulting din of violence and repression.

And so we are obligated to not grieve for massacred Israelis so to starve the apparatus of its fuel.

Winant is a historian, a discipline of the humanities. It is moments like this when I'm glad my own training is in the social sciences, where even as a political theorist I gained some capacity to look for causality before making causal claims. It is a curse of academia that it tempts us to make smart arguments for stupid things, or sometimes smart arguments for horrific things. Certainly, the seemingly unanswerable question Winant is trying to answer -- "Who can begrudge tears for those lost to violence?" -- is, in fact, exactly as obvious a moral (non-)dilemma as it first appears. But elegant pedigree and august publication venue aside, the mistake Winant is making is not a smart one. It is an error that anyone with even the slightest instinct towards causal inference would have spotted immediately.

The imperative to not grieve dead Jews, Winant argues, boils down to the following:

[I]n the several days that we spent arguing about whether the left was sufficiently decent about Hamas’s victims, Israel geared up its genocide machine—which it now is releasing. Presumably sometime next week, Western leaders will begin to express concerns, by which time it will be too late.

"By which time it will be too late." The argument, apparently, is that if only the world had hardened its heart towards dead Israelis last week, we could have averted the horrors set to befall Palestinians next week. As a causal claim, this is ludicrous to the point of farce -- to the point where I can't imagine Winant actually believes it. Does he truly believe that, if the collective global reaction to massacred Jews was a stoic shrug, that would have deterred an Israeli response? That it would have even ameliorated it? That it would have spouted greater humanism? It is absurd on face; even (maybe especially?) an anti-Zionist should realize the Israeli state would not be deterred so easily.

The brute fact is that the world electing to grieve, or not, over dead Israelis almost certainly made and will make no causal difference whatsoever in how Israel will respond to their deaths. And if grief over dead civilians is an impotent force with respect to the next round of deaths -- if it plays no role in making them more or less likely -- well, then one might as well be humane, be human, and grieve.

Once one identifies the absurd causal premise in Winant's argument, the entire thing falls apart. Grieving for dead Jews does not in fact sweat bombs and excrete bullets; boldly refusing to grieve would play absolutely no role in how many bombs are dropped and bullets are fired. The entire argument is a whirlwind of rhetoric and misdirection to try and obscure the obviousness of "Who can begrudge tears for those lost to violence?" And while I said the argument is not quite the obvious "Israelis are colonists and settlers and so got what's coming to them," I suspect the motive of the argument isn't all that far from that -- it is to give people who desperately don't want to accede to the overwhelming power of "Who can begrudge tears for those lost to violence?" an excuse, an apologia they can wield to begrudge, begrudge, begrudge.

If there is even the slightest truth in Winant's framework, it is not that Israel transmutes grief into power. It's that Israel transmutes grieving alone into power. The impetus behind Zionism -- I've been in enough of these conversations to speak confidently here -- is not (just) that bad, dreadful things happen to Jews. It's that bad, dreadful things happen to Jews and Jews are the only ones who will ever care. The only people who will grieve dead Jews are Jews; the only people who will rally to the defense of threatened Jews are Jews; the only people who will feel empathy (or anything at all, really) towards frightened or traumatized Jews are Jews; the only people who will erect fortresses to protect Jews are Jews; and so ultimately the only people who can be entrusted to protect and ensure the lives of Jews are Jews. It is not grief alone, but grief alone, that fuels these instincts.

Taken from that vantage point, the scenes of collective global grief over dead Jews represent what might be the closest thing Israelis can get to a non-violent catharsis for their trauma -- the knowledge that Jews aren't actually alone, that others do care when we are pricked and bleed. If you want something that might actually sap the machine of violence and vengeance of some of its forward momentum, that's by far your best bet -- not enforced loneliness, but unconditional embrace and empathy in the moments where it is needed most.

The last week or so hasn't had a lot of laughing moments with respect to the situation surrounding Israel and Palestine, but perhaps the only time I genuinely snickered was when Italy decided to express its solidarity by lighting up the Arch of Titus, of all places, with an Israeli flag. As far as historical ironies go, that one was hard to beat. But it also, in its ridiculous fashion, did illustrate the wheel of history turning in an important way. From celebrating dead Jews, to standing in public grief with dead Jews -- as symbolism goes, that's massive. And if that symbolic shift occurred everywhere, well, maybe Jewish history would be in a very different place than where it is today.

And so I wish I could take the final step of the argument, and say that maybe Winant has everything backwards -- that if the world had grieved hard enough and uniformly enough and passionately enough, it would have sapped the fuel of loneliness and isolation that makes Israel believe that nobody but itself can ever be entrusted to protect Jewish life, and could have knocked us off the seemingly inexorable course to the hell that is about to descend. 

But I'm enough of a social scientist that if I'm going to make a causal claim, I have to actually believe it, and I don't really believe this one. The wounds and fears that nurture Jews' feelings of abandonment run too deep to be dislodged in such a short period, even if it were possible to get everyone on board with the program (which it isn't). What I actually believe is what I said above, that how the world grieved, or didn't, over dead Israelis almost certainly made and will make no causal difference whatsoever in how Israel will respond to their deaths.

And given that absolute impotent immateriality, I also think it's clear that the basic, innocent, human impulse -- that one should grieve dead civilians -- is exactly as obvious and unanswerable as it appears at first blush. There is nothing impressive at coming up with smart (or not-so-smart) arguments to circumvent such an obvious truth.