Know Nothing and Proud of It

A dinner party shines a light on the empty-headed leadership set in the U.S.

A good friend of mine is a proud Navy SEAL. His warrior spirit never left him, and he loves the U.S. and wants to see her succeed. He recently sent me the link to an article that I strongly believe is worth reading: "The People Who Know Nothing Know Everything" by Nachum Kaplan on Substack. The short of the article is that an Israeli was invited to a high-end dinner populated by people who know and understand nothing of the Middle East, Israel, and Hamas while displaying absolute impatience with their guest. The money line said by an increasingly despondent diner was, “This is why these conversations are impossible. You keep retreating into facts.”

That line says more than anything about the rot at the top of the American intellectual and wealth totem pole. If facts were in fact the coin of the realm, then the one with the most facts and the best arguments would be the winner. But when a rigid ideology and a very fixed viewpoint are required to be accepted, then facts become like mosquitoes biting you at the beach. They are there, you don’t like them, and between spray and your hands, you do everything you can to get rid of them. The author goes through the various courses served and the corresponding discussions and arguments put forward. He knew that he was in for a long night when his host suggested that she was surprised he came, as he obviously would be on the wrong side of the evening’s discussions. Each of those assembled and arrayed against the sole Israeli put forth standard bromides about Israeli genocide and apartheid, ethnic bigotry, and violence. Here is a portion of the dialogue:

“Israel is considerably stronger than Hamas.”

“Exactly.”

“That does not tell us which side is morally right.”

“It tells us who has power.”

“Yes. Not whether that power is being used defensively or aggressively.”

“But power is the issue.”

“No, conduct is the issue. A large man attacked by a small man with a knife is not morally required to lose.”

“That metaphor is grotesque.”

“Hamas invaded Israeli communities, murdered civilians, kidnapped families and fired rockets. You raised the power imbalance. I am explaining why comparative strength does not determine moral status.”

“You’re justifying disproportionate violence.”

“What would proportionate violence look like?”

People who have been privileged to attend a Western university should be the most knowledgeable and intellectually alert in the world. But this snapshot of a dinner of and for the wealthy set in New York shows the moral, intellectual, and ideological rot that is present at the highest levels of “movers and shakers” in American society. If the author had stated that he, the Israeli, went to a kebab place to sit with a bunch of Palestinian expats, a reader would have been surprised that the conversation would be any different than he describes. Okay, the language would have been less highfalutin, but the overall gist of those evil Israelis genociding and murdering would have been the same. But the folks with whom he ate his deconstructed tiramisu to end the meal have the ability to know better but intentionally choose not to. They are like their Nazi predecessors who were professors and lawyers and knew that the Third Reich was based on many false and racist premises. But pointing out the same usually led to a bullet in the head, whereas playing by the new rules guaranteed good rewards.

The final interactions between the heretic Israeli and his well-heeled hosts are pure gold:

“You are proving every stereotype about pro-Israel people,” Nadia said.

“You mean Jews? Which stereotype? That we eventually lose patience after being lectured by people who discovered the Middle East six months ago?”

“You’re impossible.”

“No. I’m inconvenient. There is a difference.”

I picked up my jacket.

The room watched me with the shocked resentment of aristocrats who had just discovered the footman could read.

At the door, Oliver made one final attempt at magnanimity.

“I’m sorry you didn’t feel heard.”

“I was heard perfectly well. That is why everyone is upset.”

They couldn’t say “Jew”; they had to say “pro-Israel people,” which might as well be Zionists or other modern euphemisms for “Jews” — let’s not forget Tucker Carlson’s “hummus eaters of Jerusalem.” It still does not sit well with these I-am-not-an-antisemite antisemites to say “JEW.” I hate Jews. Jews disgust me. Jews are murderers. Jews stole Palestinian land. No, they have to use other words so that nobody can reasonably call them that terrible word, “antisemite”. The final comment about “not being heard” says a great deal. The author spoke; his non-deaf meal-mates heard every word that he uttered. They didn’t like anything he said, and his fact-based comments and assessments fell on deaf ears. He wasn’t heard through no fault of his own; he wasn’t heard because, like the kids’ game of a square peg in a round hole, the highly-credentialed people refused to let his words enter their brains. One fellow bellowed that he was an “international lawyer,” but he happened to be one who negotiated leases and knew nothing about the laws of war.

The story told by Kaplan is an example of why antisemitism is an incurable cancer. Israel loves to do its “hasbarah” (literally, “explaining,” colloquially PR) with facts, figures, and proofs. “All of those ‘journalists’ were actually terrorists!” “We treated Sinwar’s brain tumor so that he could come back and kill us!” “We invented a chip in your iPhone 17e!” And none of it matters, because these folks and many like them from all walks of life and economic strata cannot be bothered with facts. Antisemitism, like some cancers, can only be put into remission when social and legal penalties make its public appearance too expensive. Every argument that the author put forth to those assembled was historically accurate and technically true. But it made no difference. It’s like someone crazy about Ronaldo being given endless statistics to prove that Messi is better. Nothing helps. The Ronaldo fan will ignore every victory, prize, championship, etc. Jew-hating cannot be defeated but might retreat if wearing a keffiyeh or saying Israel made a genocide becomes socially obscene or personally unpleasant (losing a job, etc.).

With the story above in mind, I take off my hat to Boy George. He was never the most famous singer, and I was not a Culture Club groupie. But he has unequivocally expressed his support for Israel, culminating in a recent song. The beautiful people of film and music find it best to spout the accepted opinions if they wish to continue working. Several conservative actors have spoken of their job prospects drying up due to their political orientation. But there are brave souls like Boy George, who simply speak the truth and don’t let the mob tell them what to think or say. One verse in his new song goes, “You say genocide, I say war.” By all objective yardsticks, this is absolutely true. But those who wish, as in 1939, to stick it to the Jews have to say genocide to justify their hatred of Israel, Israelis and ultimately Jews. The title of the song, "We Will Dance Again," is a reference to the spirit of the survivors of the Nova Festival massacre. They swore that after recovering body and soul from what they experienced and for whom they lost in the most horrible and heinous ways, they would once again dance. And while most of those present at Nova on the Sabbath were not religious, their approach was quite Jewish. Jews did not quit after the Holocaust. They got up and made Judaism living and thriving again.

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