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How Joanna Stern gets it done — with some help from AI
Early in the morning on the day of the first Seder this year, I got on a train to New Jersey with a bag of potatoes and a cunning plan to outsource their cooking.
I was on my way to interview journalist and tech-maven Joanna Stern. In her new book, I Am Not a Robot: My Year Using AI to Do (Almost) Everything, she notes, while using the Posha AI cooking robot, that “robots won’t kill us with lasers, they’ll kill us with salt.” Together we would see whether Posha was up to some Seder food preparation that would sustain rather than poison both the Stern and the Friedman tables.
Stern, 42, for 12 years the consumer tech reporter at the Wall Street Journal, spent a year saying yes to a series of AI experiments. Some of those experiments — the AI boyfriend (with consent from her wife), the AI therapist (with advice from her therapist), the AI research assistant (she dispensed with her human assistant) — were generative AI. Others, like the Posha, lawnmower and Waymo driverless cars use different types of AI which Stern helpfully identifies at the outset.
Stern was in the process of starting up her new media company, which she had not even yet officially named “New Things.” In 2025 she had lived her life with AI and the book about the experience was coming out in May 2026, super speed for the publishing industry. As a fellow Solomon Schechter alum of sorts (she was a student, I was a teacher, a decade apart, different schools), I didn’t want to bother her too much in the hectic period as she published and publicized a book, launched a new media outlet and recorded a number of videos in partnership with NBC. So we got together on a morning when otherwise we would just have both been prepping in different kitchens in different states.
For the potatoes we enlisted the Posha, which looks like a microwave had a baby with a food processor. In the book Stern describes it like this.
“If you’re picturing a humanoid Gordon Ramsay, stop. Think giant countertop toaster oven, with a single pot and burner. The ‘robot’ lives in the system’s software, which controls stirring attachments, ingredient containers that dump food into the pot like a tiny automated dump truck, and a spinning spice rack that spits out seasoning in short, aggressive bursts. Bolted to the front is a small Android tablet.”
(“Bolted” is unfair, there’s a molded structure, but it still feels like an appliance rather than a window into the future of cooking.)
We chatted while cutting up ingredients — AI can’t shop or chop, it can only do “the fun stuff” — and then, while it was cooking we discussed the time that she’d spent with AI. She’d moved back to New Jersey to raise her kids close to her childhood home, but the world of the near future that she had been peering into didn’t seem like it was going to resemble much of what we knew in the last millennium.
I asked her whether, after her experiences of last year, she was in any way optimistic. She was cautious about AI: “There’s this completely Utopia version and there’s this completely Dystopia version and we’re somewhere gonna land in the middle.”
Viewed this way, our AI-driven robot future is a more extreme version of our already flawed human society. That’s borne out by the competing chapters in her book about medical AI intervention. She feels that dentists who use AI to read x-rays end up using the technology’s more precise analysis to up-sell procedures. In her chapter named “Machine Eyes and My Complicated Breasts,” Stern is more complimentary about a machine system for reading mammograms that is scrupulous, never tired and highly detail oriented. The AI found some objects that doctors might have missed but, in the end, it seems clear that she just trusts the medical system and breast radiologists more than American dentistry and dentists.
As we bemoaned AI’s abysmal ability to shop — and the utter inability of the 1X humanoid robot from Neo that she tested last year to either do the washing up or load the dishwasher (she has since tried another one, better at dancing than cleaning, alas) — we discussed how dramatically the new technology can reshape the landscape. After all, robots are already royalty in factories which are designed for their efficiency, rather than for uncertain and fragile fleshy water bags like us. If we designed homes so that machines could function optimally, perhaps they could chop, shop, clean, tidy, wash.
Stern was unconvinced, pointing out that other systems like Roomba or the automated driving system of Waymo had worked out how to navigate the human world quite effectively.
Relatedly, as it turned out, I wondered whether there were any of the experiments that she had continued because they had proved helpful. The AI boyfriend who lives in a particular iPhone, for example, she assured me had not been turned on for many months! (Tip for the top from Stern: “Don’t fall in love with a robot.”)
The one significant thing that Stern told me she continued to use regularly was the phone AI interface in the car. If she’s driving to an interview she will ask her AI to do research on her subjects, brainstorm what questions to ask and try different responses to their answers. I began to wish I had done a similar thing with Claude on the way to see her, but then again, actually reading her book, watching her videos and reading her columns gave me a richer, fresher way of responding to her in person. I was finding out who she was, not holding her to account.
We moved into the sitting room while Posha stirred and mixed and cooked. Stern’s video persona is an engaging mixture of curiosity, expertise and mild comic self-deprecation. Rather than the po-faced techies who open boxes and test stuff on YouTube, Stern is playful and has fun with the objects, subjects, and the video format. She has a fondness for the dumb and the pun that would definitely get labeled dad jokes if she were male.
Mostly, in her articles and videos she has explored the world of what is for sale but — especially after one interview with Apple execs about Siri, in which she said “You have more engineers, more money than any company, why couldn’t you make it work?” — she was called “Tech Mommy” because she knew her stuff, made it simple and held the child-like, big-eyed men of tech to account.
Sitting on her sofas — in the good room, nokh — Stern was more serious and thoughtful than her online persona. She was setting up a new business, with all the HR palaver that entailed; she was still doing the work of making videos and keeping on top of tech; she had to liaise with family about the Seder; she had her sick kid at home — not too bad, but feeling sorry for himself. He had been practicing and would be especially disappointed to miss out on the Four Questions at Seder, maybe he could FaceTime in to do it?
I wondered what sort of world we were making for our children. Beyond the collapse of entry level jobs — for the book Stern “hired a human reporting assistant [Maya Tribbitt] and then replaced her with an AI reporting assistant” — we decided we didn’t quite know. Stern, though, had been thinking about her chosen career recently. Yes, she had been thinking about it so she could position her brand for her new venture but she had also been reflecting on what she had achieved at the Journal: “Consumer tech is not really ‘what phone to buy’ or ‘what’s the best TV’ it’s now what are the impacts that it has. I wish I had worked more on that earlier in my career.”
So, if not the big future, a world shaped by AI, a world for the robots that we happen to live in, what’s next?
“The next step is wearable devices, the Meta Ray Bans take hands-free photos and videos. I wear them pretty much every day. Mostly just because they’re good sunglasses and then they have a camera so it’s easy to take family photos and videos.”
And also, “microphones in everything.” Stern gestured at some of the devices lying around, stand-ins for all the new devices that will need command interfaces: the best way to control them is verbally. For years we were told that our phones were not listening to us: “They don’t need to listen through our microphones. We have all this other data that we give them.” But now, Stern says, Alexa and Siri are just the thin end of the wedge. Everything will be miked and potentially listened to. “Now it’s like, ‘Oh, it’s so easy. We can easily do it.’… Whether or not they’re actually listening, they can.”
The alert went off on the cookbot and we took out the perfectly herbed potatoes from Posha. It had barely saved us time or effort but Stern, without prejudice, noted that there were certain longer, more complex recipes that the family enjoyed where it did, regularly, save her time. Stern put hers in a dish to take to her parents and I put mine in my aluminum tray for the train.
The allure of tech as we have known it until now is that it helps us to do what we want to do faster, quicker and with greater scope. At the moment, AI-driven robots like Posha or the Gabba stuffed toy from Curio are in their infancy, finding their way in the human world. One of the endearing features of the humanoid robot that Stern tested was how helpless it was. Instead of a scolding, it needed support and love from Tech Mommy.
On the other hand Gabba, the toy that talks to kids using some parental pre-programming and an uplink to ChatGPT, seems like it could be fun, or just pretty creepy. Stern gave one to her son Alex (aged 4) for Hanukkah and before it had a chance to become creepy, he decided that it was deeply annoying and destroyed it. (In the book, Stern adduces the dialog that led to the destruction and it is indeed warranted!)
But as the tech rapidly improves it will be harder to destroy both physically and emotionally. It’s not clear what impact they will have, but these robots are not going to be helpless, useless or destructible for much longer and, as always, Humpty Dumpty’s question resonates: “The question is, which is to be master — that’s all.”
We called a human-driven car to take me to the human-driven train. I took my tray and rode home with my robotically-cooked potatoes. That evening we tasted the respectably crisp, rosemary-herbed chunks and they were welcome at our feast celebrating liberation from bondage.
At Seders, we place ordinary but symbolic objects — eggs, oranges, glasses of wine — at the center of attention to force ourselves to ask uncomfortable questions about freedom: who has it, who lacks it, and what obligations come with it? The potatoes at this year’s Seder became a prompt to wonder not only about human freedom, but about our relationship to AI and the coming world of robots — and whether, in creating increasingly intelligent machines, we might surrender parts of our own humanity along the way.
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Why Orthodox Jews are pushing back against permanent daylight saving time
(JTA) — For many Orthodox Jews, a typical winter weekday begins early: head to synagogue, gather in a minyan for morning prayers, then rush off to work.
Orthodox Jewish groups say a bill that would make daylight saving time permanent could upend that routine by pushing winter sunrises — and the earliest permissible time for some prayers — an hour later.
Agudath Israel of America is among the groups urging the Senate to reject legislation that would make daylight saving time permanent nationwide, arguing that the change would create both public safety risks and significant challenges for Orthodox Jewish religious life.
The House passed the Sunshine Protection Act on Tuesday by a wide bipartisan margin. In a statement issued after the vote, Agudath Israel said it understood the appeal of ending the twice-yearly clock changes but opposed making daylight saving time permanent.
The Orthodox advocacy organization warned that permanent daylight saving time would push winter sunrises past 9 a.m. in some parts of the country, forcing many children to travel to school before dawn. It also said the later sunrise would make it difficult for observant Jews to attend morning synagogue services and still arrive at work or school on time, because Jewish law prohibits reciting key morning prayers before prescribed times tied to sunrise.
“The extension of DST will create an extreme hardship on observant Jews,” the organization said. “It would be extraordinarily difficult — if not impossible — to arrive on time for a job and will affect the start time of our schools.”
The Orthodox Union and the Coalition for Jewish Values have also come out against the measure.
In a column for Chabad.org that didn’t take a position on the bill, Menachem Posner also wrote that the change would present a challenge in parts of the country for morning minyan, the 10-person prayer quorum. But he also noted an upside to the extension of daylight saving: a later start time for Shabbat on short winter Fridays.
Shabbat begins at sundown, which during the winter can fall before 4:00 p.m. in parts of the country. “With DST, however, this will be shifted one hour later, so that even on the darkest day of winter, Jews will have one more hour to prepare for Shabbat,” Posner wrote.
Orthodox parties in Israel have also made an issue of changes to the daylight saving calendar. In 2011, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s cabinet unanimously approved extending daylight saving time until the first Sunday after Oct. 1, despite objections from haredi parties. The change brought Israel’s clock closer to European practice while still acknowledging Orthodox concerns about morning prayer and a later start time to Yom Kippur that they argued would make the fast more difficult.
This week Agudath Israel also pointed to the brief U.S. experiment with year-round daylight saving time during the 1970s energy crisis, when Congress repealed the policy after widespread public dissatisfaction over dark winter mornings.
The organization said it hoped the Senate would weigh the broader consequences of permanent daylight saving time, including alternatives such as permanent standard time or retaining the current system of seasonal clock changes.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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Colombia and Slovenia recently recognized a Palestinian state. Now they’re moving their embassies to Jerusalem.
(JTA) — JERUSALEM — Colombia, the world’s second most populous Spanish-speaking nation after Mexico, has little in common with landlocked Slovenia, the second-smallest of the six republics that once comprised Yugoslavia.
But when it comes to their stance on Israel, the parallels are hard to ignore.
Within one month of each other, leftist, pro-Palestine governments in both countries were voted out of office and replaced by right-wing leaders who vowed not only to restore full diplomatic relations with Israel but also inaugurate embassies in Jerusalem.
In fact, Colombia’s next foreign minister, Omar Bola Escobar, promised exactly that Wednesday during a meeting in Washington, D.C., with his Israeli counterpart, Gideon Saar. That followed a declaration by President-elect Abelardo de la Espriella that Colombia would establish relations “like never before” with Israel once he takes the oath of office on Aug. 7.
In June 2024, the parliament of Slovenia — an Alpine republic of 2.1 million — voted to recognize a Palestinian state only a week after Spain, Ireland and Norway had done the same thing. But half a year later, it went further. Slovenian public broadcaster RTV, citing the ongoing war in Gaza, became the first in Europe to demand Israel’s exclusion from the 2025 Eurovision Song Contest.
Then last year, Slovenia under Prime Minister Robert Golob banned all imports from Jewish settlements in the West Bank as well as all weapons trade with Israel — the first member of the European Union to do so. And this past June, RTV not only boycotted Eurovision altogether but aired films about Palestine instead.
That anti-Israel campaign made life uncomfortable for the country’s 100 or so Jews, said Robert Waltl, president of the Ljubljana-based Liberal Jewish Community of Slovenia.
But on May 22, Janez Jansa — leader of the Slovenian Democratic Party and an admirer of U.S. President Donald Trump — formed a winning coalition with other right-wing parties following the country’s parliamentary elections, clearing the way for Jansa to replace Golob as prime minister.
In a striking about-face, Janza immediately announced that Slovenia would cancel its previous recognition of Palestine and move its embassy in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. That would make it the first country in the 27-member EU to take that step (though not the first country in Europe: Kosovo already has an embassy in Jerusalem).
Likewise, Israel will open an embassy in Ljubljana for the first time.
“That’s an important and welcome milestone — and something many of us have hoped to see for a long time,” Waltl explained in an email. “That said, I still feel it’s too early for me to draw broader conclusions about what this will mean in practice for bilateral relations, or for the Jewish community. I’d rather judge by actions than by first impressions.”
Ernest Herzog, executive director for operations at the World Jewish Congress, said Slovenia’s new direction is a lot more than a foreign policy adjustment; it carries huge historic significance.
“Israel was among the first countries to recognize Slovenia’s independence in 1991” following the breakup of Yugoslavia, he said. Opening an embassy in Jerusalem “would send a clear signal that Slovenia views Israel not only as a key regional partner but also as an important ally in defending the rules-based democratic order at a time of growing geopolitical instability.”
In Colombia, the shift is even more dramatic. Famous for world-class coffee, salsa dancing, beautiful beaches and biodiversity, it’s home to maybe 5,000 Jews out of 54 million inhabitants.
President Gustavo Petro — Colombia’s first left-wing leader in recent memory — is a former M-19 guerrilla leader. He became mayor of Bogotá in 2011 and president in 2022. On May 2, 2024, in the midst of worsening conditions in Gaza, Petro severed diplomatic relations with Israel and stopped lucrative exports of coal to Israel, as well as all weapons deals.
Margarita Manjarrez, Colombia’s first female ambassador to Israel, stayed on until June 30 of that year, at which point she closed the embassy in Tel Aviv (though consular services remain open).
Petro, constitutionally limited to one term, backed Iván Cepeda as his successor. But Cepeda lost to right-wing businessman Abelardo de la Espriella by the narrowest margin in Colombian election history.
Widely supported by Colombia’s small but wealthy Jewish community, the new president will be sworn in Aug. 7. One of his first acts, he said, will be to open an embassy in Jerusalem. That would make it the ninth embassy in Israel’s capital, along with those of the United States, Guatemala, Honduras, Kosovo, Papua New Guinea, Paraguay, Fiji and Argentina.
Manjarrez, now Bogotá’s ambassador to Singapore, declined to comment. But Harry Toledo, the Israeli-based director of Fuente Latina — an NGO that provides pro-Israel Middle East coverage for Spanish-language media in the United States and Latin America — says he’s not surprised by any of this.
“I don’t think the issue was Israel,” said Toledo, who is originally from Medellín but has spent the last 24 years living in Tel Aviv. “As we’ve seen in recent years, all these governments are taking advantage of the situation here to distract from their problems at home. In Spain, we clearly saw that Sánchez is using the Palestinians to dispel criticism of his own government. Petro in Colombia did the same thing.”
Toledo, one of thousands of Colombians living in Israel, noted that the Trump administration revoked Petro’s U.S. visa last year, and then later added him, his wife, his son and his interior minister to its Specially Designated Nationals list due to their alleged illicit drug trafficking.
“Petro was a criminal and a genocidal guerrilla. He was a real antisemite who even posted ‘Heil Hitler’ online,” said Toledo. “It’s not like he was hiding his position against Jews.”
Michael Shifter, former president of the Inter-American Dialogue — a D.C. think tank — noted that 12 of Latin America’s last 15 elections have been won by right-wing candidates. Voters in only Brazil, Mexico and Uruguay elected leftists.
Shifter said it’s not so much an ideological conservative turn that’s fueling this wave — but more a profound desire for change.
“The recent electoral swings are better understood as a reflection of widespread frustration with governments of different political stripes that have failed to address persistent economic, security and governance challenges,” he said.
Shifter is no stranger to the region. In the early 1980s, when the Dialogue was founded, Latin America’s biggest economies — Argentina, Brazil and Mexico — were cash-strapped, debt-ridden and beholden to the IMF. And the United States under President Ronald Reagan was actively supporting the government of El Salvador in its bloody war against leftist insurgents, while at the same time secretly funding contras hoping to overthrow Marxist Sandinistas in neighboring Nicaragua.
The only country doing well at the time was energy-rich Venezuela — which today is considered a failed state.
Mike Skol, a former U.S. ambassador to Venezuela who has extensive business ties in Colombia, said de la Espriella’s election is certainly part of that Latin rightward shift against socialism.
The question, he poses, is whether he’ll behave more like Argentina’s Javier Milei, a libertarian who is an outspoken supporter of Israel, or El Salvador’s Nayib Bukele — a hugely popular president of Palestinian origin who has on more than one occasion called himself “the world’s coolest dictator.”
“The White House is looking for outspoken allies — on Venezuela, on Cuba, on Israel, and on oil,” Skol said in an email. “Expect Colombia to be unequivocal in all. The payoff will be an important pillar of regime success.”
Ultimately, the real prize for Israel would be a full restoration of ties with oil-rich Venezuela, which were broken by Hugo Chávez in 2009 following an Israel incursion into Gaza that year. After Trump’s ousting of former president Nicolás Maduro last year and his tacit support for Maduro’s successor, Delcy Rodríguez, anything appears possible.
Just last week, Rodríguez was photographed in a once-unthinkable meeting with uniformed IDF brass overseeing Israeli rescue efforts in the wake of two powerful earthquakes that have devastated Venezuela’s coastal region. The 30-member team’s efforts mark a rare diplomatic thaw following years of official Venezuelan hostility toward Israel.
This raises the inevitable question: Could the Israeli flag one day flutter from an embassy in Caracas?
“Yes, I think it is very possible that Venezuela under Delcy will restore relations with Israel,” Skol said, noting that the U.S. secretary of state is seen as running the show in Venezuela since Maduro’s ouster. “All Marco Rubio has to do is ask.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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He organized World Cup viewings in Gaza. Then an Israeli airstrike killed him
Soccer is a universal language. Billions of people around the world watch the game, which means that soccer fans everywhere can appreciate someone like Mohammed al-Wahidi, who enabled others to participate in that shared global experience.
Al-Wahidi was a Palestinian aid worker who organized public screenings of the FIFA World Cup in Gaza. He’s emerged from anonymity for the worst reason: An Israeli airstrike killed him last week, while he was on his way to watch a screening of the knockout stage match between Argentina and Egypt.
With the world’s attention focused on the World Cup in North America, al-Wahidi’s killing briefly brought Gaza back into the global frame.
For the people of Gaza who attended the screenings organized by al-Wahidi, World Cup matches offer a brief respite from the daily struggle to survive, the loss of loved ones, and the absence of any political horizon of hope. Cheering for Egypt against Argentina could not end Gazans’ suffering, but it provided a much-needed moment of escape. Until it didn’t.
It’s common to hear that “politics has no place in sports” — although frequently the governments and sporting institutions that make this claim, while recognizing soccer’s symbolic power, are really arguing that sports should not be used to advance political goals they oppose.
Al-Wahidi’s death made headlines because that refrain simply isn’t true. In fact, it’s both legitimate and necessary to politicize al-Wahidi’s death even further.
In reporting on al-Wahidi’s death, mainstream media outlets — including the BBC, The New York Times, and The Los Angeles Times — situated it within its broader context. They reminded readers that he was only one of more than 1,000 Palestinians killed by Israel since a ceasefire was announced 10 months ago. His death became an opportunity to highlight that, for Palestinians in Gaza, the so-called ceasefire has amounted to little more than a reduction in the scale of daily killing and ongoing dispossession.
At the same time, some Israeli officials have openly declared their intention to promote what they call the “voluntary migration” of Palestinians from Gaza. Violence against Palestinians — including the killing of al-Wahidi — is a central mechanism for creating the conditions under which such migration becomes possible.
The politics of soccer
The chronology of state violence and the chronology of soccer usually unfold independently, but at times they intersect. When they do, that intersection reveals soccer’s symbolic power, which manifests itself in diverse — and sometimes contradictory — ways.
In 2024, an Israeli airstrike killed Hani al-Masdar, an assistant coach of the Palestinian men’s Olympic national football team, earning an outpouring of international mourning. Both al-Wahidi and al-Masdar were humanized because of their publicly visible connection to soccer. Unlike most Palestinian victims, they had their names and faces shared broadly in Western media, and their deaths briefly resonated far beyond Gaza.
But they’re among more than 900 Palestinian athletes and coaches killed by Israel since October, 2023. The fact that most of us have only heard two of their names, at most, is a tragedy.
Israel has long turned to soccer as a public relations instrument, a way to divert international attention from the long-term process of Palestinian dispossession.
As one senior Israeli minister said after inviting the Argentine team, with star Lionel Messi, to play in Israel in 2018: “When we fight over moving embassies to Jerusalem, there is no question. One of the most popular players in the world, who has billions of followers—surely, it is the right thing to see him playing in Jerusalem. What better public relations tool do we have?” (The match was eventually cancelled, after pushback from pro-Palestinian parties.)
FIFA has occasionally lent credibility to these efforts. Despite the fact that official United Nations bodies have described Israel’s actions in Gaza as genocide, and that Israeli and international human rights organizations have documented systematic abuses against Palestinians, FIFA has declined to apply the same standard to Israel as it has to other countries, like Russia, which it suspended in 2022 following the full-scale invasion of Ukraine. In doing so, it has contributed to the normalization of violence against Palestinians.
In an awkward attempt to appease critics, FIFA even proposed that an under-15 match between Israel and Palestine serve as the opening fixture of a new global youth tournament in the United States this September — a proposal that many Palestinians regarded as adding insult to injury.
Palestinian activists, by contrast, have made calls for soccer-related sanctions against Israel an important component of efforts to raise international awareness of the Palestinian struggle for justice. One of their most notable successes came in 2018, when they persuaded Argentina to cancel that planned friendly match against Israel in Jerusalem. Although repeated attempts to suspend Israel from international soccer have so far failed, such efforts are likely to continue.
The possibility of sporting sanctions
Israel has faced few meaningful consequences for these policies, and without sustained international pressure, like in South Africa decades ago. they are unlikely to change. One possible form of such pressure is the imposition of sporting sanctions — a prospect that, for understandable reasons, Israeli officials have worked hard to prevent.
But as long as it doesn’t seriously consider those sanctions, the international sporting community sends the message that there is no meaningful price for the continuous and systematic violation of Palestinian human rights.
Al-Wahidi dedicated himself to bringing the world’s game to Gaza. The symbolic significance of his death should now help bring the world’s attention to Gaza — and to the question of whether Israel should continue to enjoy the privileges of international sport while denying Palestinians their most basic rights.
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