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Synagogues are joining the ‘effective altruism’ movement. Will the Sam Bankman-Fried scandal stop them?
(JTA) — A few years ago, Adam Azari was frustrated over how little he could do to alleviate suffering in the world with his modest income as a writer and caretaker for people with disabilities.
He kept thinking about a set of statistics and ideas he had encountered during his graduate studies in philosophy. For example, he remembered reading that for the price of training a guide dog for the blind in the United States, one could prevent hundreds of cases of blindness in the developing world.
This hyper-rational way of thinking about doing good was called effective altruism, and it was growing into a movement, known as E.A. for short. Some proponents were even opting to pursue lucrative careers in finance and tech that they otherwise might not have chosen so they would have more money to give away.
Azari, meanwhile, had become a believer who was stuck on the sidelines. Then, one day, he had what he calls a “personal eureka moment.” Azari would return to his roots as the son of a Reform rabbi in Tel Aviv and spread the word of E.A. across the Jewish denomination and among its millions of followers.
“It suddenly hit me that the Reform movement has this crazy untapped potential to save thousands and thousands of lives by simply informing Jews about effective giving,” he recalled.
He badgered his father, Rabbi Meir Azari, and, for a moment, thought of becoming a rabbi himself. But he abandoned the idea and focused on pitching E.A. to the Reform movement’s international arm, the World Union for Progressive Judaism. Azari found an ally in WUPJ’s president, Rabbi Sergio Bergman, and the organization soon decided to sponsor his efforts, paying him a salary for his work.
Over the past year, Azari’s Jewish Effective Giving Initiative has presented to about 100 rabbis and secured pledges from 37 Reform congregations to donate at least $3,000 to charities rated as the most impactful by E.A. advocates and which aid poor people in the developing world. Per E.A. calculations, it costs $3,000 to $5,000 to save a single life.
“Progressive Judaism inspires us to carry out tikkun olam, our concrete action to make the world better and repair its injustices,” Bergman said. “With this call we not only do what the heart dictates in values, but also do it effectively to be efficient and responsible for saving a life.”
This charitable philosophy appears to be gaining traction in the Jewish world just as one of the figures most associated with it, who happens to be Jewish, has become engulfed in scandal.
Sam Bankman-Fried built a cryptocurrency empire worth billions, amassing a fortune he pledged to give away to causes such as artificial intelligence, combatting biohazards and climate change, all selected on criteria developed by the proponents of effective altruism.
A few weeks ago, Bankman-Fried’s fortune evaporated amid suspicions of financial misconduct and revelations of improper oversight at his company, FTX, a cryptocurrency exchange that was worth as much as $32 billion before a run of withdrawals ultimately left it illiquid. The situation has drawn comparisons to the implosion of Bernie Madoff’s Ponzi scheme, and authorities investigating the situation have said Bankman-Fried could face criminal penalties over his role.
In the wake of FTX’s collapse, Bankman-Fried has suggested that his embrace of E.A. was insincere, a tactic to bolster his reputation.
But Azari and the organizer of another initiative, a growing reading and discussion group called Effective Altruism for Jews, are undaunted and don’t believe the scandal should taint the underlying principles of the movement.
“Whether you call it E.A. or just directly donating to global health and development, it doesn’t matter,” Azari said. “The basic idea is to support these wonderful charities, and I don’t think the FTX scandal changes any of that. Malaria nets, vitamin A supplements and vaccine distribution are still super cost-effective, evidence-based ways of helping others.”
Azari added that he has had several meetings with rabbis since the news about Bankman-Fried broke and that no one has asked him about it.
“I don’t think people are making the connection,” he said. “And to me, there is no connection between us and FTX.”
When talking to rabbis about why E.A. would make a good fit with their congregation’s charitable mission, Azari cites the Jewish value of tikkun olam, a mandate to “repair the world” often used to implore people to care for others. He explains that donating to charities with a proven track record is a concrete way to fulfill a Jewish responsibility.
That kind of thinking proved attractive to Steven Pinker, the prominent Harvard psychologist, who has endorsed Azari’s initiative. In a recorded discussion with Azari and others last year, Pinker recalled his Reform upbringing, which included Hebrew school, summer camp and synagogue services.
“The thing I remember most is how much of my so-called religious education was like a university course in moral philosophy,” Pinker said. “We chewed over moral dilemmas.”
As an adult, Pinker returned to Jewish teachings on charity and, in particular, those of the medieval philosopher Maimonides, examining these ideas through the lens of E.A. He began to wonder about the implications of Maimonides’ focus on evaluating charity based on the motives of the donor. That focus, he concluded, doesn’t always lead to the best outcomes for the beneficiary.
“What ultimately ought to count in tzedakah, in charity, is, are you making people better off?” he said.
Also on the panel with Azari and Pinker was the man credited with authoring the foundational texts upon which E.A. is built. Peter Singer, who is also Jewish and whose grandfather died in the Holocaust, teaches bioethics at Princeton. Starting in the 1970s, Singer wrote a series of books in which he argues for a utilitarian approach to ethics, namely, that we should forgo luxuries and spend our money to save lives. The extremes to which he has taken his thinking include suggesting that parents of newborn babies with severe disabilities be permitted to kill them.
From Bankman-Fried to Singer, the list of Jews who have either promoted E.A. or lead its institutions is long. With their estimated fortune of $11.3 billion, Facebook co-founder Dustin Moskovitz and his wife Cari Tuna have eclipsed Bankman-Fried as the wealthiest Jews in the field. There’s also popular philosopher Sam Harris and New York Times columnist Ezra Klein, who have each dedicated episodes of their podcast to the topic.
The website LessWrong, which defines itself as “a community blog devoted to refining the art of rationality,” is seen as an important early influence; it was founded by Eliezer Yudkowsky, an artificial intelligence researcher who grew up in a Modern Orthodox household but does not identify religiously as a Jew anymore. Two other Jews, Holden Karnofsky and Elie Hassenfeld, left the hedge fund world to establish GiveWell, a group whose research is considered the premier authority on which charities are deserving of E.A. donations.
The prevalence of Jews in the movement caught the attention of E.A. enthusiast Ben Schifman, an environmental lawyer for the federal government in Washington, D.C. About two years ago, Schifman proposed creating a group for like-minded individuals in hope of helping grow the movement. In an online post, he laid out the history of Jewish involvement and wrote a brief introduction to the topic of Judaism and charity.
Today, Schifmam runs a group called Effective Altruism for Jews, whose main program is an eight-week fellowship involving a reading and discussion group with designated facilitators. Schifman said about 70 people spread across 10 cohorts are currently participating. There’s also a Shabbat dinner program to bring people together for informal meetings with funding available for hosts.
Participants discuss how ideas that are popular in E.A. might relate to Jewish traditions and concepts, and also brainstorm ways to popularize the movement in the wider Jewish community, according to Schifman.
“There’s a lot of low-hanging fruit with regards to the Jewish community and sharing some of the ideas of Effective Altruism, like through giving circles at synagogues or, during the holidays, offering charities that are effective,” Schifman said in an interview that took place before the Bankman-Fried scandal broke.
Asked to discuss the mood in the community following the collapse of Bankman-Fried’s company and an affiliated charity, FTX Future Fund, Schifman provided a brief statement expressing continued confidence in his project.
He said, “While we’re shocked by the news and our hearts go out to all those affected, as an organization EA for Jews isn’t funded by FTX Future Fund or otherwise connected to FTX. We don’t expect our work will be impacted.”
Even if Schifman and Azari are right that their movement is robust enough to withstand the downfall of a leading evangelist, a debate remains about what impact E.A. can or should have on philanthropy itself.
Andres Spokoiny, president and CEO of the Jewish Funders Network, wrote about the question with skepticism in an article published more than two years ago. He argued against “uncritically importing the values and assumptions” of effective altruists, whose emphasis on the “cold light of reason” struck him as detached from human nature.
In a recent interview, Spokoiny echoed similar concerns, noting that applying pure rationality to all charitable giving would mean the end of cherished programs such as PJ Library, which supplies children’s books for free to Jewish families, that may not directly save lives but do contribute to a community’s culture and sense of identity.
He also worries that too strong a focus on evidence of impact would steer money away from new ideas.
“Risky, creative ideas don’t tend to emerge from rational needs assessments,” he said. “It requires a transformative vision that goes beyond that.”
But Spokoiny also sounded more open to E.A. and said that as long as it does not try to replace traditional modes of philanthropy, it could be a useful tool of analysis for donors.
“If donors want to apply some of E.A. principles to their work, I’d say that is a good idea,” he said. “I am still waiting to see if this will be a fad or buzzword or something that will be incorporated into the practice of philanthropy.”
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US Formally Reopens Caracas Embassy as Ties With Venezuela Warm
Venezuela’s interim president Delcy Rodriguez speaks during a press conference, more than a week after the US launched a strike on the country and captured President Nicolas Maduro and his wife Cilia Flores, at Miraflores Palace in Caracas, Venezuela, Jan. 14, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Leonardo Fernandez Viloria
The United States on Monday formally reopened its embassy in Caracas, the State Department said, citing “a new chapter” in diplomatic relations with Venezuela less than three months after US forces seized the country’s then-President Nicolas Maduro in a raid on the capital.
President Donald Trump’s administration has engaged with an interim government led by former Maduro ally Delcy Rodriguez, including on an agreement for the US to sell Venezuelan oil, and has issued sanctions waivers to encourage US investment.
The two countries agreed in early March to re-establish diplomatic relations that were severed in 2019 after the first Trump administration refused to recognize Maduro as the country’s legitimate leader, following a disputed election, and instead recognized an opposition lawmaker as the country’s president.
“Today, we are formally resuming operations at the S. Embassy in Caracas, marking a new chapter in our diplomatic presence in Venezuela,” the State Department said on Monday.
US forces captured Maduro on Jan. 3 after months of heightened tensions between the two countries, setting off a chain of changes in Venezuela. Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, are on trial in New York on drug trafficking charges.
The raid came after the Trump administration said it would reassert US dominance in the Western Hemisphere, but Trump has also cited the success of deposing Maduro as a model for the war with Iran that began last month. The move against Venezuela cut off a major source of oil to Cuba, where the president has also hinted at US military action.
Secretary of State Marco Rubio said days after the Caracas raid that Washington would first seek to stabilize Venezuela, then begin a recovery phase where US companies would have access to the country’s energy resources, before finally beginning a political transition.
The Trump administration appointed Ambassador Laura Dogu, a career diplomat with experience in Latin America, to lead engagement with the interim government.
The State Department on March 19 removed a “do not travel” advisory for Venezuela and said Americans were no longer at risk of wrongful detention by authorities there, although it still warns US citizens to reconsider travel due to the risk of crime, kidnapping, terrorism and poor health infrastructure in the country.
The State Department said on Monday that Dogu’s team was restoring the Caracas embassy‘s chancery building “to prepare for the full return of personnel as soon as possible and the eventual resumption of consular services.”
“The resumption of operations at US Embassy Caracas is a key milestone in implementing the President’s three‑phase plan for Venezuela and will strengthen our ability to engage directly with Venezuela’s interim government, civil society, and the private sector,” the State Department said.
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Lessons From the Classroom: By the Time We Try to Teach Democracy, It’s Already Too Late
Harvard University campus on May 24, 2025, in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Photo: Zhu Ziyu/VCG via Reuters Connect
Ronald Reagan warned that freedom is fragile — that it must be taught, protected, and deliberately passed from one generation to the next. For years, that warning could be heard as rhetoric. As the United States approaches its 250th anniversary, it reads as diagnosis.
Ruth Wisse makes a similar point in her recent Jefferson Lecture, and she does so with characteristic clarity. Democracy, she reminds us, does not reproduce itself. “Democracy is not transmitted biologically.” It must be taught, reinforced, and defended.
That line should be engraved above the entrance to every school in America.
But even Wisse stops one step short of the deeper problem.
By the time we try to teach democracy in college, it is often already too late.
Her lecture is about endurance — how a people survives, how a civilization persists, how freedom is carried forward across generations. Drawing on Jewish history, she shows that continuity is never accidental. It is built through teaching, repetition, and expectation. The Shema is not just a prayer; it is a civilizational blueprint: teach your children, speak these truths constantly, bind them into daily life.
This is how a people endures.
But in the United States today, we have largely abandoned this model — and nowhere is that abandonment more visible than in education.
For years, colleges and universities have imagined themselves as the primary sites of civic formation. When students arrive with weak civic knowledge or thin historical grounding, institutions respond with programming — substituting initiatives for formation and statements for substance — designed to shape values in real time.
But anyone who teaches knows the truth: students do not arrive as blank slates.
They arrive formed.
And what is formed early tends to endure.
They have already learned whether disagreement is something to engage or something to silence. They have already absorbed whether institutions deserve trust or suspicion. They have already internalized whether their country is something to inherit or something to dismantle.
These habits are not formed in college. They are formed much earlier — especially in high school. Political scientists Richard Niemi and Jane Junn showed decades ago that high school is the decisive window for civic formation — that the knowledge, attitudes, and habits students carry into adulthood are largely shaped before they reach college.
I see this every day in the classroom. Present students with a controversial text and ask them to engage it — really engage it — and a familiar pattern emerges. Some move immediately to moral judgment before they can articulate the argument. Others retreat, wary of saying anything contestable. Very few instinctively attempt persuasion – laying out a case, anticipating objections, and revising their views in response.
This is not a failure of intelligence. It is a failure of formation.
And higher education, rather than correcting this, often deepens it.
Wisse watched this transformation up close during her two decades at Harvard, where she saw what Lionel Trilling called the adversarial culture — the ascent of grievance over gratitude — displace the serious transmission of civic inheritance. She wanted to remind her colleagues that democracy requires active reinforcement, not passive assumption. What she witnessed instead was the substitution of critique for formation, of grievance for gratitude.
In place of formation, we have substituted expression. Students are encouraged to “share their truth” but are rarely required to defend it. In place of shared civic frameworks, we offer individualized narratives. In place of intellectual discipline, we reward performance — moral, emotional, and increasingly ideological.
The result is a generation that is often articulate but not persuasive, engaged but not grounded, confident but not resilient.
These are not small distinctions. They are the difference between citizens and spectators — between a democracy that endures and one that frays.
Wisse is right to warn that civilizations must be defended — not only militarily, but culturally. Here, the Jewish experience offers a lesson that has become newly urgent after October 7.
For many, especially in the Diaspora, there was a quiet assumption that security could be taken for granted — that integration was sufficient, that strength could remain in the background.
October 7 shattered that illusion.
It was a brutal reminder that survival requires not only memory and meaning, but power and preparedness. The same is true, in a different register, for democratic societies. Freedom depends not only on ideals, but on the willingness to defend them — culturally, intellectually, and, when necessary, physically.
But defense begins with formation.
And here is where Wisse’s warning should land most forcefully: we are no longer reliably forming the citizens we need to sustain the system we have.
In K-12 education, the shift has been profound. History is too often taught as indictment rather than inheritance. Authority is treated with suspicion rather than seriousness. Students are encouraged to critique before they are asked to understand. The result is not critical thinking — it is premature certainty.
By the time these students arrive on campus, the patterns are already established.
Colleges are not building civic habits. They are attempting — often unsuccessfully — to remediate their absence.
This helps explain why so many institutional responses feel hollow. Statements are issued. Committees are formed. New programs are announced. But none of this addresses the deeper issue: the habits required for democratic life were never built in the first place.
And habits, once unformed, are extraordinarily difficult to create under pressure.
If we are serious about sustaining a free society, we must shift our attention earlier — restoring serious civic and historical formation in K-12 education, where these habits are actually built. That means requiring students to read founding documents and debate their meaning — not merely critique their authors. It means teaching argument before self-expression, and inheritance before indictment.
Wisse closes with a call for renewed patriotism — a reminder that Americans benefit from an extraordinary inheritance but “do not sing of it enough.” That is true. But patriotism is not a slogan. It is a disposition, formed over time through exposure, expectation, and practice.
It cannot be summoned at the moment of crisis. It must be cultivated long before.
Reagan understood that. Wisse reminds us of it.
But here is the harder truth:
Democracy is formed early — or it is not formed at all. And when we wait until college to build it, we are no longer forming citizens — we are trying, too late, to repair the habits we failed to build.
Samuel J. Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.
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Israel and the Impossible Standard of Moral Perfection
Jewish visitors gesture as Israeli security forces secure the area at the compound that houses Al-Aqsa Mosque, known to Muslims as Noble Sanctuary and to Jews as Temple Mount, in Jerusalem’s Old City, Photo: May 5, 2022. REUTERS/Ammar Awad
There is a standard applied to Israel that no other nation is expected to meet. It is not a standard of law, nor of morality as commonly understood. It is something far more rigid and far less honest. It demands perfection in the face of existential threats, and even then, it delivers condemnation.
As the conflict with Iran intensifies, Israel finds itself navigating a reality few countries have ever faced.
Iran has made its intentions unmistakably clear for decades. The destruction of Israel is not rhetoric for domestic consumption. It is official Iranian policy. It is repeated openly, consistently, and without apology.
When Iran strikes, it does not distinguish between civilian and military targets. In fact, it purposefully targets civilians. And it doesn’t only target Jews. Rockets do not ask who is religious or secular, Jewish or Muslim, Israeli or Arab. They fall where they are aimed, and often where they are not, with one purpose in mind: to kill, to terrorize, and to destabilize.
Israel, in contrast, is forced to think not only about survival, but about responsibility. This includes responsibility toward all of its citizens: Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Druze. The diversity of Israeli society is often overlooked, but in moments of crisis, it becomes impossible to ignore. Protection must extend to everyone, without exception.
That is why restrictions on public gatherings were imposed. Not as a political statement, but as a practical necessity. In wartime, large crowds are not just gatherings. They are potential mass casualty events waiting for a single missile.
Yet when Israel extended these restrictions during Ramadan, including closing access to major religious sites, the response was immediate outrage. The accusation was predictable: Religious discrimination. Oppression. A supposed targeting of Muslim worshippers.
The reality was different. The restrictions applied across the board. Muslims were not permitted at the Al-Aqsa Mosque. Christians were not permitted at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Jews were not permitted at the Western Wall or the Mount of Olives. This was not selective enforcement. It was a universal policy driven by security concerns.
But nuance rarely survives in the modern information environment.
Within hours, a simplified narrative took hold. Israel was once again cast as the aggressor, the oppressor, the state that denies religious freedom. The broader context disappeared. The ongoing threat, the indiscriminate nature of incoming attacks, the responsibility to prevent mass casualties, all of it was pushed aside.
Then, almost as if to underline the point, a rocket landed near Jerusalem’s Old City that very same day. It was a stark reminder of what was at stake. Had thousands gathered as they normally would, the consequences could have been devastating.
And yet, even that reality does not shift the narrative.
This is the dilemma Israel faces repeatedly. If it acts to prevent harm, it is accused of repression. If it refrains and harm occurs, it is blamed for negligence. There is no decision that escapes criticism, because the criticism is not rooted in the decision itself. It is rooted in a predetermined judgment against a state run by Jews.
Another example illustrates this pattern with uncomfortable clarity. A toddler was found approaching the Israeli border alone. In any other context, this would be seen for what it is. A child placed in danger, likely as part of a calculated attempt to provoke a reaction.
Israeli soldiers responded not with force, but with care. They ensured the child’s safety, provided food and water, and transferred him to the Red Cross. Evidence showed the child was unharmed at the time of transfer.
Yet the story that followed claimed abuse. Allegations of injuries surfaced, contradicting the available evidence. The facts did not matter. The narrative had already taken shape.
This is not simply misinformation. It is a pattern of interpretation that assumes guilt regardless of evidence.
As Easter approaches, restrictions on religious gatherings once again draw criticism. Clergy voice frustration. Observers condemn the limitations. But the fundamental question remains unanswered: What is the acceptable level of risk? How many lives can be gambled in the name of normalcy?
Israel does not have the luxury of abstract debates. Its decisions carry immediate consequences measured in human lives. That reality forces choices that are imperfect, often unpopular, and always scrutinized.
The tragedy is not only in the conflict itself, but in the inability of much of the world to acknowledge its complexity. Until that changes, Israel will continue to face an impossible standard, one where even its efforts to prevent tragedy are reframed as acts of injustice.
Sabine Sterk is the CEO of Time To Stand Up For Israel.