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An 1859 fight over how to make matzah has lessons about the threat of AI today
(JTA) — In the last few months the world has been dazzled by an astonishing sequence of AI systems capable of performing all kinds of difficult tasks — writing code, composing poetry, generating artwork, passing exams — with a level of competence that rivals or exceeds what humans can do. The existence of these AIs has prompted all manner of soul-searching about the nature of humanity. It has also made many people wonder which human tasks are about to be taken over by machines.
The capabilities of these AIs are new and revolutionary, but the story of machines taking over human jobs is not. In Jewish history the most important story of that transition has to do with matzah, and it’s a story that carries important lessons for the present day.
Starting 164 years ago, dozens of European rabbis engaged in a furious debate that would not be fully resolved until the beginning of the 20th century. Matzah, which for millennia had been made by human hands in accordance with the narrow constraints of Jewish law, could now be processed with a series of machines that promised huge savings of time and money. As town after town adopted these machines, opposition began to rise, until it exploded in 1859 with the publication of “An Alert for Israel,” a collection of letters from prestigious rabbis, who adamantly argued that for anyone interested in following the laws of Passover a matzah made with a machine was no better than a loaf of bread.
The arguments for this position were many, but all will sound familiar to anyone following the AI conversation. Like today, some objected to the machines just because they were new and different, but most had more specific concerns. First, there was the matter of lost jobs. In many parts of Europe matzah was made by the poorest members of society, who were given the job as a way to help them raise money before one of the most cost-intensive holidays of the year. Ceding this job to machines would take work from those who could least afford it.
It takes about 20 seconds in a 1,300-degree, coal-and-wood-fired oven to bake shmurah matzah to perfection. (Uriel Heilman)
Beyond economics, there was concern that the machines just weren’t as reliable as people, especially given the rules around matzah-making outlined in Jewish law. What if bits of dough got trapped in the gears, quietly leavening for hours and unknowingly ruining whole batches of matzah in the process? What if the trays warmed the dough too fast? Without proper oversight, how could you trust your own food?
Finally, some objected to the loss of a literal human touch. Jewish law stated that matzah was supposed to be made by people who knew they were baking matzah. A machine, no matter how sophisticated, didn’t “know” anything. How could you eat matzah on Passover knowing that this most important food was made by a mindless machine?
The responses didn’t take long to arrive. “A Cancellation of the Alert,” a collection published the very same yearr, forcefully argued that machine matzah was perfectly fine — and possibly even better than the human product. No, inventions aren’t inherently bad. No, the machines wouldn’t harm the poor, because the machines made matzah less expensive for everyone. No, the machines weren’t prone to error — and they certainly weren’t more error-prone than lazy, careless humans. No, the machines didn’t know what they were doing — but the people who built them did, and wasn’t that enough?
The machines eventually won, but then something happened that I don’t think either side anticipated. With Manichewitz’s machine matzahs claiming most of the American market by the early 20th century, it was now the handmade matzah makers who were on the back foot; it was they and not the machines who needed to demonstrate that they were up to the difficult task of preparing this food with the efficiency and reliability of the machines.
The result is more than a little tragic. Matzah is the Jewish food with the deepest origins of all — deeper than brisket, deeper than latkes, deeper even than challah — and yet it is the ritual food most likely to be picked up at the supermarket and least likely to be made at home. While there are still communities today that exclusively eat handmade matzah, even this job is now largely outsourced to just a few companies that resemble their machine-driven counterparts in scale. While teachers will sometimes demonstrate how to make matzah for educational purposes, across the religious spectrum the era of locally made matzah is over.
Despite the fact that it’s hard to imagine a simpler baked good — matzah is just flour and water, and it’s literally illegal to spend more than 18 minutes making it — its production is treated as though it is only slightly less complicated than constructing a jet engine, and people are worried about shortages as though matzah were a natural resource or an advanced microchip. The transition has been so complete that we barely remember there was a transition at all.
Baked matzah coming out of the oven at Streit’s Matzo factory on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, date unknown. (Courtesy Streit’s Matzo)
Did the rabbis pushing for machine matzah know this was going to happen? Almost certainly not. The economic impact of machine labor is relatively easy to predict, but the psychological and cultural effects are a lot harder. There was probably no way of knowing how machines would change the way we thought about matzah in the long run, but today it’s clear that automating this ancient task has changed our own relationship to Passover’s central food — and because the change has resulted in a lot of alienation from matzah production, I’m not so sure it was a change for the better. Making matzah locally could have been a way to feel connected to the ancient Israelites, who left Egypt so fast that they didn’t have time to make anything else. Instead of emulating this ad-hoc food, we optimized it for cost and efficiency, in the process turning matzah into just another specialty cracker on the grocery store shelf. Was it really worth it?
It’s probably a bit much to say that OpenAI is just a modern Manischewitz, but the parallels between the debate about machine-generated matzah and the present debate about machine-generated everything are useful for considering how short-term policy choices around AI won’t necessarily capture all of the technology’s long-term effects on how human beings want to spend their time. When we relinquish an activity to an AI for economic reasons, we may eventually come to believe that humans are no longer qualified to do the task at all.
Then as now we must balance our economic needs against our ideas about what kinds of activities make for a good and fulfilling life.
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The New Normal for Jewish Students: Security Checks and Police Presence
Cornwall House at King’s College London. Photo: C. G. P. Grey.
In February 2026, a university screening at King’s College London required an astonishing level of security: 30 police officers and 15 professional security personnel for 20 students and five members of the university’s staff.
The reason? A 47-minute film of raw footage from the October 7, 2023, Hamas attack was screened, showing what actually happened that day.
An earlier attempt by the local student Israel Society to hold the screening had been abandoned entirely because the university didn’t grant permission on security grounds.
Outside of the event, protesters from the university’s Students for Justice in Palestine chapter chanted “Get the Zios off campus.”
Jewish students must operate behind visible layers of protection simply to gather, pray, eat, or learn together. Activities that were once routine campus activities now demand the same level of protection more commonly associated with high-profile political events, raising serious questions about what the campus “normal” has become.
As someone who has experienced this situation firsthand, the heavy use of security is not symbolic. It reflects real, credible threats of disruption and intimidation that have already forced events to be cancelled.
Jewish students now require visible police protection for activities that every other group takes for granted — a film screening, a cultural night, a Shabbat dinner. This is not discomfort; it is unequal access to campus life. The activism that claims to defend the vulnerable has instead made Jewish students the ones who need defending.
The reason stories like these keep happening is clear and uncomfortable: Anti-Zionism has increasingly become the dominant expression of discrimination and bigotry against Jews on campus. What commonly presents itself as “political criticism of Israel” quickly turns into intimidation, harassment, and exclusion regardless of any individual Zionist-identified individual’s views.
Universities that continue to outsource safety to police cordons while wringing their hands about “tensions” are simply managing symptoms. They are not addressing the root cause.
Chants that single out “Zios,” accusations of collective guilt, and the assumption that any Jewish event is somehow provocative have turned Jewish identity into a liability. This is not abstract theory. Jewish students report being chased, threatened, verbally abused, and physically targeted simply for being visibly Jewish or Israeli. Many now hide Stars of David, stop speaking Hebrew in public, or avoid Jewish spaces altogether to stay safe.
And what happened at my school is happening to students all over the UK. The Union of Jewish Students’ March 2026 national polling of 1,000 students found that nearly a quarter had witnessed behavior specifically targeting Jewish students for their religion or ethnicity. The poll also found that 77% of those who see Israel-Palestine protests regularly witnessed slogans or chants directly justifying the October 7 attack.
The pattern is consistent: hostility that begins with Israel is commonly expressed through hostility toward the nearest Jews who don’t actively identify as anti-Zionist, and those who attempt to humanise the Jews of Israel. The political rhetoric saying “it’s only about Israel” is just a disguise.
This situation is bad for Jewish students, but it is also corrosive for universities themselves. When institutions must essentially militarize everyday student activity to keep one minority safe, they have already failed their basic duty to provide an equal learning environment.
Free speech is not the issue here. Protest and legitimate criticism of any government must be protected. However, what should not be protected is the right to harass, intimidate, or exclude Jewish students under the guise of activism. Distinguishing between the two is a key element of the widely accepted IHRA Working Definition of Antisemitism.
Universities know what needs to be done. Our leaders have been telling them for years. First, enforce existing codes of conduct without hesitation whenever harassment or intimidation occurs, without selective blindness or “context” excuses that only apply to Jews.
Second, apply free speech rules equally. Disruption that prevents Jewish students from accessing events or education is not protected speech; it is a violation of rights.
Third, publicly rebuke the notion that pro-Israel events are inherently provocative. A Shabbat dinner is not a political statement. A screening of actual footage is not a provocation.
These activists will wrongly argue that enforcing such policies amounts to censorship. But in Western civilization, nobody is free to do whatever they want, regardless of their effect on others. They are free to voice their opposition, but not to impose it on others.
Curtailing this behavior is the minimum requirement for any university campus and a healthy community.
A “fortified” campus is not a solution — it is an admission of failure. Until universities confront the reality that anti-Zionism produces the same result as antisemitism, Jewish students will continue to need physical protection to live normal student lives.
The question is no longer whether this climate exists; it’s whether university leadership — including at King’s College — has the courage to act on it.
Alena Rakitina is a student of the University of Exeter and a CAMERA on Campus 2025-2026 Fellow. Opinions expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of CAMERA.
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Rahm Emanuel’s Call to Treat Israel ‘Like Every Other Ally’ Gets History Wrong
Rahm Emanuel speaks during a media interview with podcast host Megyn Kelly. Photo: Screenshot
Rahm Emanuel’s recent declaration that Israel should henceforth be treated “like every other ally” was not serious strategic analysis. It was the sound of a longtime Democratic operative adjusting himself to the increasingly radicalized gravitational pull of his party’s anti-Israel wing.
The same political ecosystem now mainstreaming figures like Hasan Piker — a man who declared that “America deserved 9/11” and routinely traffics in hateful anti-American and anti-Israel propaganda to millions — is steadily dragging Democratic rhetoric on Israel into territory that would have been politically radioactive even a decade ago.
Like others making similar arguments, Emanuel’s slogan collapses under even minimal historical scrutiny.
When looking at the evidence, it’s clear that Israel is already treated unlike many American allies.
First, some allies, like NATO members, are entitled to American military protection and defense if they are attacked. When Israel fights wars, Israelis fight them. That distinction matters enormously. Yet people like Rahm speak as though Israel is uniquely coddled rather than uniquely self-reliant.
Emanuel — who somehow served as ambassador to Japan while apparently learning little from the experience about how American alliances actually work — recently stated that the US should stop “subsidizing” Israel’s military and stop providing “financial aid” through the Memorandum of Understanding framework, and that Israel should instead simply “buy what they want” like every other ally.
The aid framework Rahm now caricatures as “subsidies” and “financial aid” was never an act of American charity. It emerged from strategic bargains and overlapping interests that benefited Washington enormously.
A major turning point in that strategic bargain came in the 1980s with Israel’s Lavi fighter project — an ambitious domestically developed fighter program that many in Washington feared could become a genuine export competitor to the F-16.
American pressure to terminate the program was immense because, contrary to today’s woke-right and far-left parody of the alliance, Washington was not interested in an Israeli aerospace rival competing with American defense giants globally.
Under that pressure, Israel closed the program.
The result was deeper Israeli integration into American military platforms and supply chains — strengthening American aerospace dominance while locking Israel more tightly into the American defense ecosystem.
In other words, the architecture Rahm now dismisses as though it were unilateral charity did not emerge because Washington was engaged in philanthropy for Jews. It emerged because American policymakers concluded that the arrangement benefited the United States strategically, militarily, technologically, and industrially.
Almost all US military assistance to Israel is effectively spent in America on American systems built by American workers in American factories. Meanwhile, Israel became one of the most battle-tested laboratories for American military doctrine and technology anywhere in the world — missile defense, cyber operations, tunnel warfare, counterterrorism, intelligence integration, and urban combat.
American defense officials do not maintain these relationships because they are sentimental Zionists at the Pentagon. They maintain them because Israel provides enormous strategic value to the United States.
But the most absurd part of Emanuel’s slogan remains the slogan itself.
Because when Rahm says Israel should be treated “like every other ally,” he ignores the fact that Israel receives less benefits than many “other allies.”
Japan gets treaty guarantees. South Korea gets treaty guarantees and American troops on its front line – the DMZ. NATO states get the full weight of American deterrence and outsized military spending – compared to all other NATO countries, as the US accounts for roughly 70% of all NATO defense expenditures.
The Gulf monarchies host sprawling American military infrastructure protecting regimes that likely would not survive long without it.
Israel often gets lectures about “restraint” while fighting enemies openly committed to its destruction.
Israel gets told that the world’s only Jewish state — smaller than New Jersey and surrounded for decades by forces openly calling for its annihilation — should somehow behave like Holland while confronting enemies that behave more like ISIS with better public relations.
And through all of this, Israelis themselves still do the fighting.
That is the part the “subsidy” rhetoric always conceals.
When Hezbollah launches rockets into northern Israel, American Marines do not fight in southern Lebanon. When Hamas massacres Israeli civilians, American reservists are not mobilized into Gaza. When Iran openly threatens both the United States and Israel, American parents are not preparing their children for compulsory military service. Israelis are. That is not “special treatment.”
That’s why Emanuel’s rhetoric sounds less like strategy and more like ideological adaptation – the repositioning of a Democratic politician trying to survive a party increasingly shaped by activists who understand the Middle East primarily through slogans, intersectional dogma, and social media propaganda rather than military history or strategic reality.
For decades, American policymakers understood that Israel represented something uniquely valuable to the United States — a stable, democratic, technologically advanced regional power willing to fight its own wars without demanding or requiring American soldiers to die for it. Now figures like Rahm Emanuel speak as though this arrangement was some kind of American charity or a bad deal.
But it’s not — it’s a strategic partnership, and one squarely in America’s interest.
That consensus, however, is increasingly being subordinated to internal party pressures. The Democratic establishment’s attempts to placate the anti-Israel activist left will likely work about as well as it worked for Biden and Harris in 2024 — never anti-Israel enough to satisfy the far-left and Islamist activist ecosystem, but anti-Israel enough to alienate moderates, independents, and pro-American voters.
The party will soon likely decide if it should become outright hostile to voters — but history rarely rewards political classes that mistake ideological fashion for strategic wisdom. Rahm Emanuel should know that by now.
Micha Danzig is an attorney, former IDF soldier, and former NYPD officer. He writes widely on Israel, Zionism, antisemitism, and Jewish history. He serves on the board of Herut North America.
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Sheila Reich, beloved LA Yiddish teacher, has died
שיינדל „שילאַ“ רײַך, אַ פּאָפּולערע לאַנגיאָריקע ייִדיש־לערערין אין לאָס־אַנדזשעלעס, איז לעצטנס אַוועק אין דער אייביקייט. זי איז געווען 80 יאָר אַלט.
איך האָב געקענט שילאַן במשך פֿון מער װי אַ פֿערטל יאָרהונדערט אָבער בײַ מיר האָט זי געהייסן בלויז שיינדל. ערשט הײַיאָר, אויף איר 80סטן געבורירן־טאָג האָב איך אױסגעפֿונען אַז בײַ אַלע אַנדערע האָט זי געהײסן „שילאַ“.
יאָרן לאַנג איז שײנדל געװען אַ ייִדיש־לערערין אין פֿאַרשידענע אינסטיטוציעס איבער לאָס־אַנדזשעלעס. איך אַלײַן בין קיין מאָל נישט געווען בײַ איר אין קלאַס אָבער מײַן װײַב טעמע האָט זיך יאָרן לאַנג געלערנט בײַ איר. אַלס לערערין איז שײנדל געװען אויסערגעוויינטלעך. אין אַ טיפּישן קלאַס זענען די סטודענטן געווען אױף פֿאַרשידענע ניװאָען, פֿון אַבסאָלוטע אָנהײבער ביז אַװאַנסירט. דאָך האָט זי זיך אָפּגעגעבן מיט יעדן אײנעם באַזונדער. ווי אַ רעזולטאַט האָט די ייִדיש־קענטעניש בײַ יעדן סטודענט זיך פֿאַרבעסערט.
װי איך אַלײן, און ווי אַ סך פֿון אירע סטודענטן, איז שיינדל געװען אַ קינד פֿון דער שארית־הפּליטה. זינט די קינדעריאָרן האָבן מיר בײדע גערעדט ייִדיש מיט אונדזערע טאַטע־מאַמע. (זי האָט אויך גערעדט ייִדיש מיט איר זון, אַבֿי.) פֿאַקטיש איז ייִדיש פֿאַר אונדז בײדן געװען די ערשטע שפּראַך. אַן אונטערשייד פֿון צען יאָר צווישן אונדז, איז שיינדל אין מײַנע אױגן געװען די עלטערע שװעסטער װאָס איך האָב נישט געהאַט. אין אונדזערע פֿיל שמועסן האָבן מיר גערעדט אױף מאַמע־לשון. חס־וחלילה מיר זאָלן רעדן אױף דער גױישער שפּראַך! אַזױ װי איך, האָט זי געקענט צענדליקער, אױב נישט הונדערטער יִידישע אױסדרוקן, שפּריכװערטער און חכמות. מיר האָבן אָפֿט זיך געטיילט מיט די אויסדרוקן און תּמיד הנאה געהאַט ווען מיר האָבן זיך דערוווּסט אַ נײַ ווערטל.
יאָרן לאַנג איז שײנדל אויך געװען אַ מיטגליד פֿון אונדזער לײענקרײַז אין לאָס־אַנדזשעלעס. טראָץ דעם װאָס זי איז געװען אַ ייִדיש־לערערין האָט זי זיך קיין מאָל נישט געהאַלטן העכער פֿון אונדז. . אָט זענען עטלעכע:
„זומער און װינטער ליגט אים אין מױל“ — אַ פּאַטאַלאָגישער ליגנער. דער ליגן בלײַבט אין זײַן מױל אַ גאַנץ יאָר.
„עס גײט מיר אן אַזױ ווי דער פֿאַריאָריקער שנײ.“
„איך האָב נישט אַפֿילו קײַן כּוח צו חלשן.“
„קושװאָך“ — „האָנימון“. איז דאָס נישט חנעװדיק?
שײנדל איז געװען אַן אשת־חיל, מיט אַ פֿינקל אין אױג. איך, צוזאַמען מיט די מיטגלידער פֿון אונדזער לײענקרײַז און די אָנצאָליקע סטודענטן במשך פֿון די יאָרן, װעלן שטאַרק בענקען נאָך איר. כּבֿוד איר אָנדענק!
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