Welcome to Up for Debate. Each week, Conor Friedersdorf rounds up timely conversations and solicits reader responses to one thought-provoking question. Later, he publishes some thoughtful replies. Sign up for the newsletter here.

Question of the Week

In the 2024 election, candidates will debate U.S. foreign policy toward China, Russia, Ukraine, Israel, Iran, Mexico, and beyond. What foreign-policy matters are most important to you and why?

Send your responses to conor@theatlantic.com or simply reply to this email.

Conversations of Note

For and Against a Cease-Fire

In The Washington Post, Shadi Hamid advocates for a cessation of hostilities in the Middle East, pending negotiations:

First, Hamas must agree to release hostages and commit to halting rocket fire into Israel. In exchange, Israel would agree to stop its bombardment of Gaza as well as any ground incursions into Gazan territory.

Once this first step is taken, a cease-fire would allow for further negotiations... These talks should be led by the United States, with the active support of governments in communication with Hamas... These countries should demand that Hamas offload its governing responsibilities in Gaza to the Palestinian Authority … Just as it is unrealistic to ask Israel to accept an unconditional cease-fire, so, too, is the notion that Hamas can be “eradicated”… Truly eliminating the organization—one with hundreds of thousands of supporters and sympathizers—would require mass killing on an unprecedented scale.

In The Atlantic, Hillary Clinton describes a cease-fire between Israel and Hamas that she helped negotiate in 2012, and explains why she opposes calls for a cease-fire in today’s conflict:

In 2014, Hamas violated the cease-fire and started another war by abducting Israeli hostages and launching rocket attacks against civilians. Israel responded forcefully, but Hamas remained in control of Gaza. The terrorists re-armed, and the pattern repeated itself in 2021, with more civilians killed. This all culminated in the horrific massacre of Israeli civilians last month, the worst mass murder of Jews since the Holocaust …

[Hamas has] proved again and again that they will not abide by cease-fires, will sabotage any efforts to forge a lasting peace, and will never stop attacking Israel … Cease-fires freeze conflicts rather than resolve them … In 2012, freezing the conflict in Gaza was an outcome we and the Israelis were willing to accept. But Israel’s policy since 2009 of containing rather than destroying Hamas has failed. A cease-fire now that restored the pre–October 7 status quo ante would leave the people of Gaza living in a besieged enclave under the domination of terrorists and leave Israelis vulnerable to continued attacks. It would also consign hundreds of hostages to continued captivity.

At The Homebound Symphony, Alan Jacobs argues that the cost of things is seldom plainly stated:

Especially in time of war, few political commentators take even the first step towards this vital honesty, which is to admit that someone will be hurt. Significantly fewer still take the next step, which is to acknowledge the extent of [the] pain — they will make their calculations based on the best-case scenario, or indeed something rather better than that … Almost every policy has higher costs than its supporters want to admit, and if readers see the probable consequences, they may well decide that the game isn’t worth the candle.

At Gideon’s Substack, Noah Millman argues that a moral imperative as basic as “stop genocides” compels us to prioritize solutions that are actually effective. He worries that people gravitate toward moralistic but unrealistic stances because doing so “absolves them of the terrible possibility that whatever they do could not only fail, but be counterproductive.”

In his telling, having the right intent is not what’s most important:

Hamas is a group with clear genocidal intent; that’s obvious after October 7th if it wasn’t before. Israel is a country that was born in response to genocide. Does that mean Israel should have carte blanche to do whatever it deems necessary to destroy Hamas? No… because Israel’s proper response is a prudential question, a judgment call. Israel’s goal of destroying Hamas is justified, yes, but that doesn’t mean jus in bello considerations go out the window, nor does it mean that every justified action will lead to good outcomes. And good outcomes are what matters...

Does that mean the world is obliged to put pressure on Israel to end the fighting, given the horrific humanitarian situation unfolding in Gaza, the massive loss of innocent life, and the real potential for ethnic cleansing or even genocide? Again: No. That’s also a prudential question, also a judgment call, one that has to be evaluated based on likely outcomes. Pressure could be counterproductive, prompting no change in Israeli action now and greater Israeli intransigence in the future. If pressure were effective, meanwhile, it could lead to an equivocal outcome in the war that results in worse fighting, and a more terrible vengeance, in the near future. I’m not saying either of those conclusions are certain ... I’m just saying that there’s no moralistic framework to decide these things, no clean-handed policy to apply that is certainly right because it is rightly intended.

A Case for Equality

In a speech to The Federalist Society, Bari Weiss argues that there is peril in the concept of equity as distinct from equality of opportunity:

For Jews, there are obvious and glaring dangers in a worldview that measures fairness by equality of outcome rather than opportunity. If underrepresentation is the inevitable outcome of systemic bias, then overrepresentation—and Jews are 2 percent of the American population—suggests not talent or hard work, but unearned privilege. This conspiratorial conclusion is not that far removed from the hateful portrait of a small group of Jews divvying up the ill-gotten spoils of an exploited world.

But it is not only Jews who suffer from the suggestion that merit and excellence are dirty words. It is every single one of us. It is strivers of every race, ethnicity, and class. That is why Asian American success, for example, is suspicious. The percentages are off. The scores are too high. The starting point, as poor immigrants, is too low. From whom did you steal all that success?

An Unexpected Convert

In UnHerd, Ayaan Hirsi Ali, who famously left Islam for atheism, explains her turn to a new religion:

Why do I call myself a Christian now?

Part of the answer is global. Western civilisation is under threat from three different but related forces: the resurgence of great-power authoritarianism and expansionism in the forms of the Chinese Communist Party and Vladimir Putin’s Russia; the rise of global Islamism, which threatens to mobilise a vast population against the West; and the viral spread of woke ideology, which is eating into the moral fibre of the next generation.

We endeavour to fend off these threats with modern, secular tools …And yet, with every round of conflict, we find ourselves losing ground …

But we can’t fight off these formidable forces unless we can answer the question: what is it that unites us? The response that “God is dead!” seems insufficient. So, too, does the attempt to find solace in “the rules-based liberal international order”. The only credible answer, I believe, lies in our desire to uphold the legacy of the Judeo-Christian tradition. ​​That legacy consists of an elaborate set of ideas and institutions designed to safeguard human life, freedom and dignity — from the nation state and the rule of law to the institutions of science, health and learning.

It seems to me that a belief in the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness is a credible answer to what most unites us, or could unite us—to whatever extent hundreds of millions can be united.

Provocation of the Week

Jennifer Burns, a history professor at Stanford, is the author of books on Milton Friedman and Ayn Rand. While being interviewed by the economist Tyler Cowen, this exchange occurred:

Cowen: Many of us observing history have the sense that the intellectual tradition within the American right has been in decline for several decades. (A) Do you agree? (B) If so, what, most fundamentally, is driving that change?

Burns: I think it’s a less vigorously intellectual culture. One thing I sometimes face with undergraduates is, they’re genuinely surprised when I say, “Well, yes, the conservatives had all the ideas in the 20th century. The conservatives really made an impact because they came up with all these ideas that were really powerful and important.” It doesn’t really compute because the conservatism they’ve grown up with is not driven by ideas in any meaningful way … conservatism became an establishment, and then you have a set of greatest hits, and you have a variety of ways you can make your living within this establishment, provided you adhere to the greatest hits. There’s not a ton of incentives to do things differently. I do think there’s a lot of ideological ferment on the right or amid conservatives right now. It’s heavy on ideas. It’s often in internet forms that are not deep engagement with ideas, I would say, in the same way as when you’re reading books and magazines. I think it’s faster and more rapid.

It’s really interesting. There’s much more competition in the realm of ideas than there was. Besides reading a book or going to college, you can get ideas — they’re coming out of everywhere, coming out of the ether. I think that’s going to lend less coherence. You can have a lot of people who are intellectual leaders of smaller tribes rather than having a couple of the big leaders that everyone’s heard of — Friedman, Hayek, this and that.

I just think we’re in a more fragmented place. I tend to attribute it to the media environment we’re in, which probably isn’t going away anytime soon. So the question is, can we live and thrive in this fragmented-attention ecosphere, or are we going to recreate something akin to the three big networks [laughs] to filter and manage all the information we have?

I think we’ll see that evolve, or not, over the next 50 years.

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This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here.

Much of America’s politics has descended into ignorant, juvenile stunts that distract us from the existential danger facing democracy. Citizens must take up the burden of being the adults in the room.

First, here are three new stories from The Atlantic:

The U.S. government UFO cover-up is real—but it’s not what you think. A must-see comedy about miserable people looking for love Not a world war but a world at war

Don’t Argue With Uncle Ned

One of the more rewarding parts of a newsletter like The Daily is that it allows writers to have an ongoing conversation with readers, and to return to themes and discussions over time. This is also a nice way of saying that now and then, I’m going to pull up something I wrote a while ago, because I think people near to keep hearing it. (As I said yesterday when examining the word fascist, I am something of a pedant, and the professor in me is always still lurking around here.)

So before we break for the weekend and start preparing for our Thanksgiving celebrations, I want to revisit an argument I made nearly two years ago—something I think might help make the holiday a bit less stressful around the dinner table. It is a simple recommendation, but one that will be hard for many of us to follow: In a time of clownish, adolescent, and highly dangerous politics, those of us defending American democracy must be the adults in the room. We must be measured, determined, and even a bit stoic.

Let us recall what prodemocracy citizens are up against. Donald Trump and many of his supporters in Republican politics are, in effect, a reality show, an ongoing comedy-drama full of Main Characters and plot twists and silly caricatures of heels and heroes.

Think of Kari Lake, with her soft-focus, super-earnest TV presence. Watch Oklahoma Senator Markwayne Mullin hitch up his pants and offer to duke it out with a Teamster, in a dopey scene that Hollywood would have left on the cutting-room floor. Tune in to Newsmax and chuckle as Representative Tim Burchett complains that Representative Kevin McCarthy gave him an elbow in the kidneys. Smirk along with the anchors as they suggest that Representative Nancy Mace, if McCarthy funds her challengers, might reveal some dirt—wink wink, nudge nudge—on the former speaker.

Trump himself is a man both menacing and ludicrous, one of the most improbable figures ever to be at the center of a cult of personality. His whining, his weird mannerisms, his obsession with personal cosmetics—all make him an easy target for jokes and nicknames.

But none of this should drag us into acting like children ourselves. Trump and his supporters might be inane in many ways, but they are deadly serious about their intentions to take power and destroy democracy. Their cavorting and capering is part of who they are, but it is also bait, a temptation to distraction and an invitation to sink to their level.

As I wrote in 2021:

It’s time to ditch all the coy, immature, and too-precious language … No more GQP, no more Qevin McCarthy, no more Rethuglicans and Repuglicans. No more Drumpf. No more Orange Menace. And no more of The Former Guy, which I know is popular among even many of my friends and colleagues in the media.

In the ensuing years, I’ve suggested often on social media that people also forgo calling the current Florida governor “DeSatan,” “DeathSantis,” and other grade-school epithets. I get it: It’s fun and sometimes funny. But as I warned, it also signals a needless lack of seriousness about the threat to democracy:

When we use silly and childish expressions, we communicate to others that we are silly and childish, while encouraging ourselves to trivialize important matters …

Juvenile nicknames too easily blur the distinction between prodemocracy voters and the people they’re trying to defeat. If you’ve ever had to endure friends or family who parrot Fox-popular terms like Demonrats and Killary and other such nonsense, think for a moment how they instantly communicated to you that you never had to take them seriously again.

Now ask yourself if you want to be viewed the same way.

This advice does not mean being quiet or avoiding conflict or engaging in false compromise for the sake of peace during dinner. Rather, it is advice to be steadfast and calm. When Uncle Ned (he regularly appears in my hypothetical family dinners) goes on about Obummer or the Biden Crime Family, nothing is gained by railing back about Cheeto Jesus or Mango Mussolini. Such language just convinces others that your arguments are no less childish than theirs.

Instead, be direct and uncompromising: “You’re wrong. I think you know that you’re wrong, and I think, in your heart, you know you’re making a terrible mistake.” That’s the best you can do in a family setting. Among friends, the approach might be different: “You know that these conspiracy theories are not true. And Donald Trump is a fascist. You’re not. But that’s what you’re supporting.”

Whether to continue that friendship probably depends on what happens next. Unlike some of my gentler friends and colleagues, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with ending friendships over deep political divides, but as much as possible, be kind, be patient, be polite—but be unyielding in what you know is right.

When I was in high school, I read Meditations, by the Stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius. I’ve read it many times since, in the hope that I will fully grasp all of it before I depart the planet. But I’ve kept a few quotes nearby for years, including his admonition that other people, even if they are “meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous, and surly,” are no different from any of us and, like you and me, possess “a share of the divine.”

He also warned us, however, not to become like those who might hate us: “Will any man despise me? Let him see to it. But I will see to it that I may not be found doing or saying anything that deserves to be despised.”

This is tough advice, and I fail at it regularly. But the key is that you can’t change other people; you can control only what you do, and what you do will influence other people more than silly nicknames, mug-shaming, and gossiping. Saving democracy sometimes requires flags and marches and dramatic gestures. For most of us, however, democracy is preserved one day, and one conversation, at a time.

Related:

Fight like adults. Trump crosses a crucial line.

Today’s News

United Nations deliveries of food and supplies to Gaza ceased because of a communications blackout due to Israel’s refusal to allow fuel into the region. The House Ethics chairman filed a resolution to expel Representative George Santos from Congress. The Department of Education is investigating alleged incidents of anti-Semitism and Islamophobia at several K–12 schools and institutions of higher education.

Dispatches

Up for Debate: What foreign-policy matters are most important to you, and why? Conor Friedersdorf asks readers.

Explore all of our newsletters here.

Evening Read

Illustration by Matt Williams

The Men Who Started the War

By Drew Gilpin Faust

Harpers Ferry seemed almost a part of the neighborhood when I was growing up. Granted, it was across the state line, in West Virginia, and slightly more than a half-hour drive away from our Virginia farm. But it took us almost that long to get to the nearest supermarket. And I felt connected by more than roads. The placid, slow-moving Shenandoah River, which flowed past our bottom pasture, becomes raging white water by the time it joins the Potomac River at Harpers Ferry, 35 miles downstream.

Nature itself seems to have designed Harpers Ferry to be a violent place. Cliffs border the confluence of the two rivers, and the raw power generated by their angry convergence made the site ideal for the national armory established there around 1800. It manufactured some 600,000 firearms before Union troops burned it down in 1861 to keep it out of Confederate hands. Five battles took place at Harpers Ferry, and the town changed hands 12 times.

But none of this is what Harpers Ferry is primarily remembered for.

Read the full article.

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Culture Break

Illustration by Ben Hickey for The Atlantic

Read. In her debut novel, Wrong Way, Joanne McNeil explores what the gig economy does to a human.

Watch. Saltburn, a new country-house thriller from the director Emerald Fennell, tackles the dark side of Millennial desire (in theaters now).

Play our daily crossword.

P.S.

I’ve been writing about heavy stuff all week, so I think it’s time for a recommendation for something more entertaining. All of this talk about fascism reminded me of a movie that I really enjoyed and forgot to rave about when I saw it: Jojo Rabbit, a 2019 film directed by Taika Waititi, about a lonely young boy living with his mother in World War II Nazi Germany.

Adolf Hitler—played by Waititi, a New Zealander of Maori and Jewish descent—is his imaginary friend. And it gets weirder from there.

The movie veers from hilarious to painful to deeply touching. Waititi’s Hitler is both silly and terrifying. (You can see why this movie occurred to me today.) It’s not for everyone; many critics liked it—and it won Waititi an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay—but some really hated it for what they saw as a trivialization of Nazism. I think that’s a charge that misses the point of the movie, but it’s definitely a strange picture. And I won’t spoil the surprise, but if you make it to the end, you’ll find one of the best uses of music in a movie I’ve ever seen.

— Tom

Katherine Hu contributed to this newsletter.

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