Cycling – Vuelta a Espana – Stage 21 – Alalpardo to Madrid – Madrid, Spain – Sept. 14, 2025: Barriers are smashed by anti-Israel protesters during Stage 21. Photo: REUTERS/Ana Beltran

Spain and Italy have announced they are dispatching naval warships to assist in breaking Israel’s legal — and life saving — weapons blockade around the Hamas-controlled Gaza Strip.

Specifically, the countries have announced their navies will escort and protect the “humanitarian flotilla,” which includes Greta Thunberg.

The flotilla’s declared mission, according to organizers, is only secondarily to deliver aid. Its primary purpose is to break Israel’s legal weapons blockade: a technical act of war.

Accordingly, these two European countries and NATO allies have actually (even if unintentionally) committed their navies to a dangerous act of war against Israel, a legal “casus belli,” (an act permitting a military response), and an overt act of military cooperation with the Hamas terror organization.

Israel is not only permitted, but required to stop all attempts to break the Gaza blockade.

As we have previously explored in depth, Israel’s blockade on the Gaza Strip is both legal and also an essential life saving barrier against Hamas’ access to weapons.

The San Remo Manual on International Law (Sections 67 and 95) requires that Israel enforce its blockade universally and without exception, and for good reason: in the past, at least one “humanitarian flotilla” was found to be carrying large quantities of weapons.

Israel is absolutely permitted to stop the flotilla in international waters.

A common misconception is that international law provides total impunity for any act as long as it’s done in international waters. Anyone who follows the history of naval battles (which are almost always on the “high seas”) knows this is incorrect.

This is basic common sense: if a country couldn’t strike an invading navy until the warships reached its shores, then international law would have effectively outlawed self defense.

Indeed, according to Section 10 of San Remo, even being en route to commit an act of war (such as breaching a legal blockade) opens the invading vessel to legitimate attack, which is considered self defense.

There is already a widely used method for safely and legally delivering humanitarian aid.

Israel has, and continues to, deliver record amounts of humanitarian aid into Gaza — far more than most countries have ever delivered in any modern conflict, especially into enemy territory.

We explored this topic in detail, in partnership with Ambassador Michael Oren’s publication, “Clarity.”

Not coincidentally, according to independent data, Gaza has one of the fastest growing populations in the world, a fact inconsistent with claims of deprivation. The current methods for delivering aid include life saving inspections for weapons, which would not occur if a flotilla were to successfully breach the blockade.

Israel has offered the flotilla organizers the opportunity to dock at the Israeli port of Ashkelon, where they would be permitted to unload their cargo for inspection against weapons smuggling, and then transfer to Gaza. The organizers refused, confirming that their primary mission is not aid at all, but breaching Israel’s legal weapons blockade.

Indeed, the flotilla is carrying only a minimal amount of actual aid — its organizers claim to be transporting 250 tons: roughly the average amount of aid that Israel transfers into Gaza every two hours (according to an independent, internationally peer reviewed academic study, as well as data from Israel’s COGAT office.)

For now, one can only hope that some sort of diplomatic process will prevent the Spanish and Italian warships from approaching Israel’s shores. However, if that fails, Israel will be obligated under both international law and basic morality to physically stop the approach of both the flotilla and its accompanying warships (San Remo Sections 67 and 98).

While a civilian ship can usually be disabled and boarded without damage, stopping a warship could require an actual, kinetic naval battle.

It’s not about aiding Gaza, it’s about aiding Hamas.

A widely ignored report by Israel’s Diaspora and Antisemitism Ministry indicates that this particular “humanitarian flotilla” was organized by fronts for the Hamas terror organization and the Muslim Brotherhood, and that Hamas affiliates are on board. If true, Spain and Italy are not only engaging in an act of war against Israel, but they may even be providing direct combat support to a Hamas controlled military operation.

It should go without saying, but it (tragically) needs to be repeated: October 7, 2023 was the largest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust. Modeled on Muhammad’s 7th century “Khaybar Massacre,” the October 7 atrocities included mass rape, ritual beheadings, horrific torture, and more. Now, over 700 days later, the internationally designated Hamas terror organization continues to hold Israelis hostage, under horrifying conditions.

To give the benefit of the doubt, it is possible that Spain and Italy are actually naive enough to believe they are on a humanitarian mission. Yet if their warships leave port, the countries will (knowingly or not) become the first Western powers and NATO allies to provide direct, military combat support to the perpetrators of the October 7 massacre.

Spain and Italy will also become the first European powers since the Holocaust to engage in what is effectively a military attack on the Jewish people.

It is reasonable to assume that no one actually wants to spark a kinetic war between Israel and Europe. Yet we are approaching a delicate situation that is reminiscent of the Cold War: when any mistake can trigger severe and unwanted consequences.

The only way this ends well is if Italy and Spain come to their senses, and reverse their misguided and dangerous decision.

Daniel Pomerantz is the CEO of RealityCheck, an organization dedicated to deepening public conversation through robust research studies and public speaking.

A Torah scroll. Photo: RabbiSacks.org.

Every year on Yom Kippur, we list our mistakes and deficiencies and determine to be better. But we know that however hard we pray, and even if we intend to do better, we are unlikely to change very much at all.

The religious bigot is going to stay a bigot. The Chasid will not turn into a Litvak. The hardliner will not become soft, nor will the man who always says “no” change his tune. The crook will not willingly hand back his ill-gotten gains. The political in-fighting and hatred will not cease. The day after Yom Kippur, almost all of the instruments will continue to play the same tune.

Sometimes I wonder if the answer might lie in the old antisemitic joke, “What is the difference between a Christian and a Jew approaching the Pearly Gates of Heaven when they die? The Christian expects to be found guilty and sentenced to suffer for an eternity in the hell fires of perdition. The Jew, on the other hand, expects to be let off, with costs.”

It’s the “with costs,” of course, that is antisemitic. But the attitude with which the pious Jew (and the not so pious) approaches his or her Maker is indeed one of confidence. We do, rather confidently, expect God to forgive us. That’s our excuse and, in my view, it is a much healthier response than guilt and depression.

And that is why we can remain confident and hopeful. People can and do turn over another leaf, even if most do not. Despite my cynicism, many of us do change, some more and some less. But what gets us to change is usually some crisis, like the present one where it seems we are back in the times of the Blood Libel. Or the loss of someone we love, surviving an accident, or any other major upheaval in our life.

All the time there are forces beyond our control influencing our lives. We never know what might happen tomorrow. This is why so many are superstitious. It is their only way of pretending they can protect themselves from the unknown.

If something has gone wrong, in our lives or the world, it is action that is required, not sentiment.

What, then, is the purpose of Yom Kippur? The God of the Bible asks us to follow the commands (which will, hopefully, keep us on the straight and narrow). We read last week about our obligation to return to God. The word we translate as repentance, Teshuva, literally means to come back. And then God comes back to us.

Familiarity dulls the impact, and routine loses excitement. Which is why having a special day, 25 hours, has its own impact. Atmosphere and awesomeness. We do like to imagine that we are being judged by a heavenly court. Our intentions are good but our determination flags.

Yom Kippur reminds us of value, trying to live a more meaningful life. Outward observance does not guarantee being a good person, but observance provides a handy template if one choose to try it. Much of our characters and natures are influenced by family, friends, education, and circumstance. Change is indeed difficult and that is why our tradition keeps on hammering away at it but stops short of pushing guilt, which is of no use to anyone. We have failed too often. So we must try to do better next year. Get back on track.

Yom Kippur is an opportunity to assess and reassess our lives. A day of different experiences. A realization of how vulnerable we are and fragile. That we might be gone at any minute. Having a whole day to think about it surely can’t do any harm, even it is all too fleeting.

May you all have a much better year!

The author is a writer and rabbi, currently based in New York.

Australia’s Prime Minister Anthony Albanese speaks at a Labor party election night event, after local media projected the Labor Party’s victory, on the day of the Australian federal election, in Sydney, Australia, May 3, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Hollie Adams

Nearly two years after the horrors of October 7, 2023 — and just before the solemn days of Rosh Hashanah — Australia’s Jewish community was dealt another blow. At the very moment we gathered to pray for renewal, our government announced that it formally recognizes the State of Palestine. The timing was not just insensitive; it was cruel.

For Jews in Australia, this decision does not exist in isolation. It comes after two years of fear, resilience, and constant vigilance. We have seen antisemitism explode in our universities, workplaces, synagogues, and streets. Families are keeping children home from school out of fear. Parents are second-guessing whether it is safe to display a mezuzah or wear a Magen David. Students are told their very identity is a provocation.

Against that backdrop, our leaders smiled as they recognized a Palestinian state, presenting it as progress for peace. For Australian Jews, it felt like a dismissal of our pain. Rosh Hashanah is supposed to be a time of hope, yet many of us sat at our holiday tables with a sense of dread: that our own government, in pursuit of applause abroad, had chosen to undermine us at home. And as Yom Kippur approaches — the day of reflection, repentance, and renewal — we are left to ask ourselves: how can we seek peace in our hearts when the world around us insists on rewarding those who reject peace entirely?

The Jewish experience in Australia has always been about resilience. We are a small community, but a proud one. We have contributed in every sphere of Australian life while maintaining our heritage and our connection to Israel. Over the past two years, that pride has been shaken by fear. We walk into shul now looking over our shoulders. We drop our children off at Jewish schools with extra security guards on the gates. We watch rallies fill city centers with chants calling for the destruction of Israel, knowing those words carry a thinly veiled threat toward Jews everywhere.

Recognition of a Palestinian state in this climate feels like a validation of those who target us. It tells us that our suffering since October 7 does not matter. It rewards Palestinians for the Oct. 7 massacre. It says that the hostages still in Gaza do not matter, and that the comfort of being in step with international opinion matters more than the security of a small and vulnerable community at home.

What does this mean for the future? Among Jewish Australians, there is a quiet but real fear that this decision will fuel further hostility. If Israel’s legitimacy can be questioned so easily, how much more precarious is ours?

We know from bitter experience that what begins with attacks on Israel often finds its way to attacks on Jews in the Diaspora. We also worry about the erosion of trust. For decades, Australia was seen as a steady partner of Israel and a safe home for Jews. That reputation is now fractured. Many in our community feel abandoned by leaders who should have stood with us, but instead chose to make a gesture that legitimises violence and entrenches division.

And yet, even through the pain, there is clarity. Jewish Australians are resilient. We gathered for Rosh Hashanah this year with heavy hearts, but also with determination. We know who we are, and we know what we stand for. We stand for life, for community, for faith, for Israel. We stand against terror and against those who seek to erase us. This recognition may have shaken our confidence in our government, but it has not broken our spirit. If anything it has made us more determined to speak out, to educate, to organize, and to ensure that our children inherit a community that does not bend in the face of hostility.

We do not know what Canberra hoped to achieve with this move. But we know what it has achieved here: deeper wounds in a community already hurting, and a reminder that our safety and dignity cannot be taken for granted. Two years on from October 7, and as Yom Kippur approaches, we enter our holiest day of the year searching for forgiveness, for strength, and for renewal. But the question lingers: will our own leaders ever seek forgiveness for abandoning us when we needed them most?

Michael Gencher is the Executive Director of StandWithUs Australia, an international education organisation that supports Israel and fights antisemitism.