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Hiroshima, the 10th Plague, and the Strength to Take Decisive Action Against Evil
509th Composite Group aircraft immediately before their bombing mission of Hiroshima. Photo: Wikipedia
In the late 1980s, when I was a student at Ner Yisrael Yeshiva in Baltimore, I had a close friend who took night classes at Johns Hopkins University. One evening, he came back visibly shaken. That night’s guest speaker had been Paul Tibbets, the pilot who flew the Enola Gay and dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima.
My friend told me that Tibbets spoke calmly and deliberately, with the controlled precision of a career military officer. He made no attempt to dramatize what he had done, nor did he flinch from its consequences. Dropping the bomb, he said, was the correct military decision, adding bluntly, “I would do it again.”
His point was straightforward: the atomic bomb ended the war quickly and spared the world a catastrophic invasion of Japan that could have cost hundreds of thousands of American lives and untold numbers of Japanese lives as well.
Tibbets did not deny the human suffering the bomb caused, but he rejected the idea that this suffering made the mission wrong. He expressed no regret about carrying it out. In his view, it saved lives precisely because it brought the war to an immediate end.
At the time, I filed it away as an unusual but interesting historical tidbit. This week, as I walked through the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, the memory of hearing about Tibbets’ talk at Johns Hopkins came roaring back.
The museum is harrowing in ways that are hard to describe. Photographs of survivors, their burned skin hanging from their bodies. Metal objects fused together or melted almost beyond recognition by the heat of the blast. A hauntingly scorched child’s tricycle. A watch frozen at the exact moment the bomb detonated. Photos of victims bearing massive keloid growths years after the war, their bodies grotesquely reshaped by the long reach of that terrible day.
The suffering is overwhelming, graphic, and impossible to ignore. Tens of thousands were killed instantly. Tens of thousands more died from horrific burns in the days that followed, while others from radiation sickness and cancer years later. Most were civilians.
And yet, what struck me almost as powerfully as the horror of what was there was what wasn’t there. There is almost no context. No mention of Japan’s stubborn refusal to surrender. No discussion of the horrific war crimes committed by the Japanese across Asia. No reference to Pearl Harbor, the deadly attack on America launched by Japan in December 1941 without a declaration of war.
In fact, the Americans barely appear at all. It almost feels as if the bomb descended from the heavens – an act of cosmic cruelty, unconnected to history, agency, or responsibility.
To be clear: none of this diminishes the suffering. Nothing could. But the absence of context matters. Because without it, war becomes a morality play with only one role assigned – that of the victim – and no serious questions are asked about how wars actually end, or how they begin in the first place.
And that question is unavoidable in the 21st century: how do we reconcile our horror at the impact of war with the reality that wars sometimes must be ended decisively – because not ending them can be the worse of two evils?
Public attitudes toward the atomic bombings of Japan reveal just how uneasy we have become with that question. In 1945, immediately after Hiroshima and Nagasaki, a Gallup poll found that 85 percent of Americans approved of the decision, with only a small minority disapproving.
By 1990, approval had fallen to 53 percent – but it largely held steady through the early 2000s. A 2015 survey by the Pew Research Center found a clear majority of Americans still saying the bombings were justified.
But over the past decade, something has shifted. A Pew study published last August, marking the 80th anniversary of Hiroshima, shows a public deeply conflicted. Only 35 percent now say the bombings were justified. A full third are unsure. Nearly 70 percent believe nuclear weapons have made the world less safe.
To be fair, that discomfort is understandable. It is also historically naïve.
It is no coincidence that I found myself wrestling with this question in the same week we read Parshat Bo – the Torah portion that confronts this moral dilemma head-on.
The 10th plague to strike ancient Egypt, Makat Bechorot, is unlike anything that comes before it. Until that point, Egypt has endured economic collapse, environmental devastation, disease, and widespread suffering. Pharaoh has been warned, pleaded with, negotiated with. None of it works. He absorbs each blow and refuses to consider surrender.
And then, in a single night – in one devastating, irreversible moment – the war ends. Every firstborn son in Egypt dies. There is not a single home untouched by the plague. Pharaoh summons Moses in panic – he himself is a firstborn and fears for his own life – and in the dead of night the terms of redemption are agreed. By morning, the Israelites are on their way out of Egypt, free and unchallenged.
The Ramban makes an essential point that is often missed: the final plague was not merely punitive. It was decisive. The earlier plagues failed precisely because they were survivable. Pharaoh could absorb the damage, regroup, and convince himself that he could endure one more blow.
The death of the firstborn changed all that. The shock of this final plague was so absolute that Pharaoh could no longer entertain defiance.
Ramban is clear and unsentimental: gradualism is not merciful – it is ineffective. As long as Pharaoh believed Egypt could stagger on, Israel would remain enslaved. Ending the conflict required an act so overwhelming that the very idea of continued resistance collapsed.
The Maharal of Prague goes even further. He explains that Egypt was not merely an enemy nation – it was a corrupt moral system built on dehumanization and cruelty. Incremental punishment could never undo it. Only a shock powerful enough to reorder reality itself could break Egypt’s grip on history and end its cruelty. The 10th plague was not about vengeance. It was about ending Egypt’s capacity to perpetuate evil.
Seen through that lens, Hiroshima looks different – not less tragic, but more intelligible. By the summer of 1945, Japan had lost its navy, its air force, and much of its urban infrastructure. Still, it refused to surrender.
US military planners warned that a ground invasion would lead to catastrophic casualties on both sides, with civilians trapped in the middle for months or even years. The atomic bomb ended the war almost immediately. Like Makat Bechorot, it was horrifying – and precisely for that reason, it worked.
This is not an argument for cruelty. It is an argument against moral theater – against pretending that drawn-out wars fought “humanely” are somehow kinder simply because their brutality is dispersed over time and geography. There is a difference between loving peace and being unwilling to confront the cost of ending war.
The Torah never asks us to celebrate Egyptian suffering. On the contrary, our Seder night rituals deliberately acknowledge it. But the Torah also refuses to sanitize redemption. Freedom did not come through endless diplomacy or moral posturing. It came through decisive, devastating force – after every other avenue had failed.
Standing in Hiroshima, surrounded by reminders of the unimaginable pain caused by the atomic bomb, I felt the full weight of that tension. But on reflection, Paul Tibbets understood something we in the 21st century have grown uncomfortable admitting: grief and justification can coexist. Mourning and moral clarity are not opposites.
Parshat Bo teaches us that sometimes, when evil refuses to let go, we are forced into terrible choices – not because we want to make them, but because there is no other way forward. It is a lesson worth remembering in an age that fears consequences more than it fears the endurance of evil.
The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California.
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Jewish Migration as an Oracle: What Jewish Migration Tells Us About the Fate of Nations
Masked radial pro-Hamas demonstrators in France on November 16, 2024. Photo: Romain Costaseca / Hans Lucas via Reuters Connect.
For generations, the movement of the Jewish people has served as a silent barometer for the stability of certain countries. It is a phenomenon that transcends simple demographics. When the Jewish community begins to leave a country where it had been settled for some time in significant numbers, they are not merely seeking better economic utility or responding to spiritual yearnings; they are signaling a major cultural and political shift that can precede a wider systemic failure.
To understand the future of Europe, Russia, and elsewhere, we must look at the benchmark of migration — and what it tells us about the crises of today.
How so?
When significant developments occur in the political arena, leaders and journalists often scramble for insights into whether a major shift is on the horizon. The Jewish community, however, asks a more visceral set of questions: What does this new reality promise? Is this the end of the chapter for Jews in this place? What is the right time to leave? Because Jews historically link uncertainty and suspected danger to migration, their movement becomes a signal — a mirror reflecting the strength and timing of a major political crisis.
History confirms that Jewish migration is not just a reaction to a crisis, but a predictor of its depth. It is a “canary in the coal mine.”
It is important to distinguish between routine migration and a mass migration, an avalanche. It is a sudden and unusually looking mass migration that is a signal of a terminal societal breakdown. And to capture that, we must establish a benchmark.
Historically, when a society is on the brink of or undergoing a total transformation or failure, we have seen between 50% and 75% of the Jewish population migrate within a five-to-ten-year window. The sample is small, but these figures are not speculative. They are the markers of history’s most significant ruptures:
- Nazi Germany (1933–1939): In the seven years following the rise of the Third Reich, 50% of the initial 503,000 Jews left the country.
- The Former Soviet Union (1989–1995): As the Soviet empire crumbled, 53% of its 1.5 million Jews migrated within seven years.
- North Africa (1960–1969): In Morocco and Tunisia, 72% of the Jewish population departed within a decade. In Algeria, that figure reached a staggering 75%.
These numbers represent more than just a move; they represent the liquidation of a presence. When 50% to 75% of a community leaves in a single decade, it is a definitive statement that the social contract in that nation has been broken. This is the benchmark against which all modern migration must be measured.
What does the oracle say about today’s realities then? In the aftermath of the October 7 attacks and the subsequent surge in global antisemitism, the media has often spoken in apocalyptic terms about the future of Jews in Europe and the West.
Questions like “Could it happen here?” have returned to the forefront of communal discourse across all Diaspora communities. Yet, if we look at the hard data of actual migration toward Israel, the “oracle” is telling a surprisingly different story.
Despite the ongoing conflicts and the visible rise in hostility, we are not seeing a mass movement of Jews of the Diaspora out of their countries at mass levels.
In Western Europe, the numbers of Jewish immigrants, to Israel and elsewhere, remain remarkably low. As of 2025, the projected percentage of would-be migrants over a seven-year period for the United Kingdom is only 3%. In France, a country often featured as the epicenter of European Jewish anxiety, the figure is 7%. Germany and the Netherlands sit at a mere 2% and 1% respectively. These figures are a far cry from the 50-75% threshold that signaled the end of Jewish life in 1930s Germany or 1960s Algeria.
In Russia, the initial shock of 2022 saw a spike where 68% of the population were considered would-be migrants — a figure that sat squarely within the benchmark of collapse. However, by 2025, that number had plummeted to 17%. Similarly, in Ukraine, the 2022 figure of 62% has dropped to just 7% by 2025.
All of this suggests that, for all the very real anxieties and the genuine rise in antisemitic incidents, the Jewish communities in the West still perceive a level of underlying stability in their host nations that is not reflected in the headlines.
If Jewish migration is a mirror of world peace, the current data suggests that while the mirror is cracked, the frame has not yet shattered. The mass exodus that characterizes the end of a chapter is simply not happening in London, Paris, or Berlin.
Equally importantly, the predictive power of this data remains a warning. The benchmark exists so that we can recognize the abnormal when it arrives. The fact that we have not reached the 50% threshold in Europe is categorically not an invitation for complacency; it is a baseline for measurement.
By monitoring these levels and intensities of migration and societal turmoil, we gain the ability to see the strength and timing of political shifts before they fully manifest. The oracle may be quiet for now, but its history tells us that when it speaks, the rest of the world ignores it at its own peril. Because Jewish migration is not about Jews, it is about the rest.
Dr. Daniel Staetsky is an expert in Jewish demography and statistics. He is based in Cambridge, UK.
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Israel Remembered the Shoah; Fatah Glorified a Palestinian Mass Murderer
Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas attends the World Economic Forum (WEF) in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, April 28, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Hamad I Mohammed
Earlier this week, Israel remembered the six million Jews murdered by the Nazis in the Holocaust, along with those who valiantly fought the Nazis.
Israel learned from the Holocaust that we must always remain vigilant, and this remains an absolute survival directive, living as we do next to the Palestinian Authority (PA), which, like the Nazis, celebrates the murder of Jews and Israelis.
One of the terrorists released by Israel in exchange for Israeli hostages in last year’s Hamas extortion deal was a Palestinian terrorist who murdered 12 people. He was expelled to Egypt, where he died from an illness last week. The mass murderer is now being eulogized by Palestinian Authority and Fatah officials as exemplifying the values cherished by all Palestinians.
The terrorist, Riyad Al-Amour, was no exception.
The PA honored the terrorist with a “mourning tent” — which was visited by top officials, including Fatah Central Committee Secretary Jibril Rajoub.
Official PA TV reporter: “The Fatah Movement, the Ramallah and El-Bireh District, the [PA-funded] Prisoners’ Club, the [PLO] Commission of Prisoners’ [Affairs] … set up a mourning tent for Martyr and released prisoner deported to Egypt Riyad Al-Amour, who died as a Martyr…”
Fatah Central Committee Secretary Jibril Rajoub: “The most sacred thing in the eyes of the Palestinians is those who sacrificed their lives and their freedom – our Martyrs.”
[Official PA TV News, April 9, 2026]
Fatah issued an official statement revering the terrorist as “an example of sacrifice, courage, and perseverance” who was imprisoned by Israel since he “did not hesitate to fulfill his national duty.” [emphasis added]
Posted text: “Fatah announces with sorrow the death of released deported prisoner Riyad Al-Amour…
Al-Amour died while being distanced from his homeland, after a path of struggle in which he constituted an example of sacrifice, courage, and perseverance.…
Martyr Al-Amour joined Fatah in his youth and added that he did not hesitate to fulfill his national duty against the occupation until he was imprisoned in the occupation’s prisons, where he spent 23 years.
Fatah expressed its sincere condolences to the family…
High-level Fatah officials also mourned the terrorist on social media:
Posted text:“Fatah Central Committee members Abbas Zaki and Tawfiq Tirawi expressed their condolences over the death of released prisoner Riyad Al-Amour during a visit to the mourners’ house in Bethlehem.
The delegation expressed its deep sorrow over the death as a Martyr of Al-Amour, and emphasized that the sacrifice of the prisoners [i.e., terrorists] will remain present in the hearts of our people and that the struggle for freedom and independence must continue.”
[Fatah Central Committee member Abbas Zaki, Facebook page, April 5, 2026]
The family of Al-Amour — a “Pay-for-Slay” millionaire — will now have to wait and see if they will qualify for continued payments as family members of a “Martyr killed resisting the occupation,” since many PA officials also libeled Israel as being responsible for his death.
The Palestinian salute to Al-Amour is shameless, but as we have seen time and time again, for the PA and its leadership, terrorism is never something to be embarrassed about or part of one’s past to run away from.
On the contrary, in the PA’s “terrocracy,” the more you kill, the greater the respect you are given in life — and in death.
An additional homage to Al-Amour was made by Fatah’s “Shabiba” youth movement:
Fatah Deputy Chairman and Fatah Central Committee member Mahmoud Al-Aloul: “These Martyrs, Rashida [Mughrabi], and Riyad [Al-Amour], are among the patient ones fighting for their people, seeking freedom and independence for this Palestinian people.” …
Fatah Shabiba Youth Movement Nablus District Coordinator Rawhi Oudeh: “The message is a message of loyalty to their sacrifices, and a message of loyalty to keep their wills, and it is also a message that if Rashida and Riyad have departed in body, they will remain as a path, an idea, and an essence in the eyes, hearts, and conscience of the Fatah youth.”
[Official PA TV News, April 4, 2026]
Itamar Marcus is the Founder and Director of Palestinian Media Watch (PMW). Ahron Shapiro is a contributor to PMW, where a version of this article first appeared.
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Proposed Antisemitism Laws in France, Italy Stir Free Speech Debate
Procession arrives at Place des Terreaux with a banner reading, “Against Antisemitism, for the Republic,” during the march against antisemitism, in Lyon, France, June 25, 2024. Photo: Romain Costaseca / Hans Lucas via Reuters Connect
French and Italian lawmakers are due to vote on new laws defining antisemitism, proposed in the wake of a surge in anti-Jewish incidents but which critics say could be used to censor criticism of Israel.
The French law, which is scheduled to be debated on Thursday, proposes to sanction “implicitly” justifying terrorism, calling for the destruction of a state recognized by France, and comparisons of Israel to the Nazis.
The Italian bill, if adopted, would make Italy the first country to write into law the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) definition of antisemitism, which lists certain criticisms of Israel as examples of antisemitism.
DEFINING ANTISEMITISM IN LAW
Proponents of the laws point to the historic rise in antisemitism after Israel began its military campaign in Gaza following the Hamas-led invasion of and massacre across southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.
Critics – including some rights groups, academics, and left-wing politicians – say that they will censor legitimate activism for Palestinian rights and contribute to conflating Jews with the state of Israel.
“The [IHRA] definition confuses what is permitted speech – and that is criticism of Israel as a state – with what is prohibited speech, which is antisemitism and racial and religious incitement to violence,” UN special rapporteur on free speech Irene Khan said.
The French law, which references the IHRA definition without fully adopting it, contained vague language, she added.
The Italian bill was approved by a large majority in the Upper House last month and is expected to begin its passage through the Lower House on Thursday. The French law has lost some political backing following a petition on the French parliamentary website signed by more than 700,000 people.
SHARP RISE IN INCIDENTS SINCE OCT. 7 MASSACRE
In Italy over two years from 2023, antisemitism rose by 100 percent to a record 963 incidents in 2025, according to the Italian Antisemitism Observatory. By comparison, there were 877 recorded incidents in 2024, preceded by 453 such outrages in 2023 and just 241 in 2022.
In France, antisemitism remained at alarmingly high levels last year, with 1,320 incidents recorded nationwide, according to the French Interior Ministry. Although the total number of antisemitic outrages in 2025 fell by 16 percent compared to 2024’s second highest ever total of 1,570 cases and 2023’s record high of 1,676 incidents, the ministry warned that antisemitism remained “historically high.” There were 436 antisemitic acts recorded in 2022, before the Oct. 7 atrocities.
France’s human rights commission, the CNCDH, has said that antisemitic acts in France regularly peak in relation to operations carried out by the Israeli army.
The commission, which was not consulted for the law, wrote to MPs and the prime minister in January to warn of the dangers of conflating “the hatred of Jews and the hatred of the state of Israel.”
Responding to this warning, Caroline Yadan, the French MP proposing the law, said that her text aimed to tackle “new forms of antisemitism” and that the “essentialization that Jews equal Israel exists in today’s society.”
The Israel-Hamas war has led to a wave of anti-Israel, pro-Hamas demonstrations around the world, which Israel and its supporters say are antisemitic.
Protesters say their criticism of Israel and its actions in Gaza should not be conflated with antisemitism.
Livia Ottolenghi, representative of the Union of Jewish Communities in Italy, said the new law was necessary and did not prevent criticism of Israel.
“In Italy, we do not live well,” she said. “Our children have bars on their school windows; when they go out, they must be escorted.”
IHRA DEFINITION OF ANTISEMITISM
The IHRA working definition of antisemitism has been adopted by 45 countries as a guide but has not previously been written into law anywhere.
IHRA — an intergovernmental organization comprising dozens of countries — adopted the “working definition” of antisemitism in 2016. Since then, the definition has been widely accepted by Jewish groups and lawmakers across the political spectrum, and it is now used by hundreds of governing institutions, including the US State Department, European Union, and United Nations. Law enforcement also uses it as a tool for matters such as hate-crime investigations and sentencing.
According to the definition, antisemitism “is a certain perception of Jews, which may be expressed as hatred toward Jews. Rhetorical and physical manifestations of antisemitism are directed toward Jewish or non-Jewish individuals and/or their property, toward Jewish community institutions and religious facilities.”
It provides 11 specific, contemporary examples of antisemitism in public life, the media, schools, the workplace, and in the religious sphere. Beyond classic antisemitic behavior associated with the likes of the medieval period and Nazi Germany, the examples include denial of the Holocaust and newer forms of antisemitism targeting Israel such as demonizing the Jewish state, denying its right to exist, and holding it to standards not expected of any other democratic state.
The Council of Europe Human Rights Commissioner Michael O’Flaherty said he viewed the IHRA definition as a useful tool but was concerned about its application, especially in Germany.
“To somehow attribute responsibility for the actions of a government to the Jewish community in Europe is totally unacceptable, and indeed, it does raise the specter of antisemitism,” he said. “But to somehow conflate any criticism of Israel with antisemitism is ridiculous.”
Sarya Kabbani, a French-Syrian woman, was put on trial under existing laws on antisemitism over carrying banners that drew parallels between Israeli politicians and Nazi Germany at a protest in Paris in December 2023. The 67-year-old, whose husband is Jewish, was later acquitted by a court.
“It is freedom of expression to be able to say that Israel is committing war crimes, is committing genocide, is carrying out ethnic cleansing, is occupying,” said the activist, who will join demonstrations against the French law this week.