Rabbi Eliezer Simcha Weisz
Rabbi Eliezer Simcha WeiszCourtesy

In international politics, we see the same worrying thing happen over and over again: large global powers sit safely across the ocean. They live in a comfortable and false sense of security, far away from the danger. From there, they try to force artificial peace agreements on Israel-the frontline state that acts as a wall against those who want to destroy us. Human leaders suffer from strategic blindness. They look at the quiet, patient tactics of a cruel, evil regime and mistake it for wise and rational behavior. At the same time, these leaders blame the people of Israel, who are fighting for their lives. They call us "warmongers" or "ungrateful" just because we stand up to protect their sons and daughters.

This distorted reality is not new. It is a setup where an outside power misreads the battlefield, hurts its loyal ally, ties its hands, and believes the clever lies of an enemy. We see this same problem throughout human history, in classical politics, and especially in our Holy Torah and the teachings of Chazal.

We feel a deep frustration today when we see a world leader think he can stop a dangerous enemy by lifting economic sanctions or signing a piece of paper. This is just a rerun of old mistakes. It is short-sighted politics that gives money, gifts, and military strength to a regime built on mass murder.

The clearest historical example of this mistake is the Munich Agreement of 1938. Neville Chamberlain, the Prime Minister of Britain at the time, came back from meeting Adolf Hitler and loudly declared that he had brought "peace for our time." Chamberlain judged a tyrant using ordinary human logic. He treated the situation like a simple border dispute that could be solved with compromise and talks.

But this Western way of thinking completely missed the point of a fanatical enemy. The attacker just used the peace illusion to buy time and rebuild his war machine. Today, Israel is often left exposed and tied down by ceasefire agreements made over its head. In the exact same way, Czechoslovakia was sacrificed in 1938. It was pushed out of the negotiation room and abandoned by Western powers. They foolishly thought that feeding the hungry lion would bring quiet to the area.

This warped political setup-where outside players try to run a nation's war of survival based on small, narrow political interests-is the exact same foundation we find in Parashat Balak.

Balak, the king of Moab, looked at the camp of Israel and panicked. He made what he thought was a smart political move to survive: he formed a sudden, unnatural alliance with his old enemies, the Midianites. Together, they hired the wicked Bilaam, the prophet of the nations, to weaken and curse the people of Israel.

Rashi famously exposes the deep illusion behind that alliance, bringing down the true nature of the relationship between Moab and Midian: "But did they not always hate one another? ... But out of fear of Israel, they now made peace between themselves" (והלא מעולם היו שונאים זה את זה... אלא מיראתן של ישראל עשו שלום ביניהם).

Balak thought he could handle a complex spiritual and physical war through political tricks, public relations, and a fake partnership. He is the original example of the modern Western leader. He believed that if he just built enough altars, offered enough benefits, or looked at the conflict from a different hilltop, he could domesticate a fanatical monster by partnering with other bad actors.

But the Torah tears the mask off this approach and shows it is a total disaster. Israel's enemies do not play by the rules of common sense taught in Western universities. Their driving force is an old, deep hatred for the Jewish people-a hatred that cannot be solved with land concessions, cash, or artificial treaties.

This was also true during the Suez Crisis of 1956. The United States government put heavy pressure on Israel to stop its military advance and retreat completely. They made a mistaken political guess that forcing an immediate ceasefire would calm the Middle East and satisfy a regional dictator. Reality proved them wrong: the move only gave new life to evil forces, increased their aggression, and hurt the balance of power in the whole region.

Balak wanted the exact same thing: to use Bilaam to trap Israel, tie them down politically and spiritually, and leave them weak and exposed to their enemies. But when Bilaam stood on the mountaintop, Hakadosh Baruch Hu forced him to see the true reality. He opened his mouth and declared the core truth of Israel's existence:

"Behold, it is a people that shall dwell alone, and shall not be reckoned among the nations." (Bamidbar 23:9)

הֶן עָם לְבָדָד יִשְׁכֹּן וּבַגּוֹיִם לֹא יִתְחַשָּׁב

Hen am le'vadad yishkon, u-va'goyim lo yitchashav.

People often misunderstand this pasuk. They think it is a curse of loneliness and political isolation. The truth is the exact opposite-it is a declaration of absolute independence. In politics, big powers act on shifting, temporary interests. A superpower capital sits thousands of miles away from the battlefield, so it can afford to be "patient" with a gang of murderers and call it a smart strategy. But for a Jew living inside the war, under the shadow of rockets, that patience is a death trap. The Torah commands us to understand: Israel's safety, survival, and moral clarity cannot be handed over to fragile political ideas or promises from foreign capitals.

At the end of the drama on the mountain, the wicked Bilaam had to admit that no political tricks or alliances could change what Borei Olam (the Creator of the world) decided. He cried out:

"God is not a man, that He should lie; neither a son of man, that He should repent: when He hath said, shall He not do it? or when He hath spoken, shall He not make it good?" (Bamidbar 23:19)

לֹא אִישׁ אֵל וִיכַזֵּב וּבֶן אָדָם וְיִתְנֶחָם הַהוּא אָמַר וְלֹא יַעֲשֶׂה וְדִבֶּר וְלֹא יְקִימֶנָּה

Lo ish El vi'chazev, u-ven adam ve'yitnecham; ha-hu amar ve'lo ya'aseh, ve'diber ve'lo yekimena?

This truth is the foundation for the famous words Shmuel HaNavi hurled at Shaul HaMelech centuries later:

"And also Netzach Yisrael (the Eternity of Israel) will not lie nor repent; for He is not a man, that He should repent." (Shmuel I 15:29)

וְגַם נֵצַח יִשְׂרָאֵל לֹא יְשַׁקֵּר וְלֹא יִנָּחֵם כִּי לֹא אָדָם הוּא לְהִנָּחֵם

Ve'gam Netzach Yisrael lo yeshaker ve'lo yinachem, ki lo adam hu le'hinachem.

Shmuel used these sharp words when he rebuked Shaul HaMelech for showing mercy to Agag, the king of Amalek, instead of wiping out the enemy completely. Shaul tried to excuse his actions with human logic and social pressure from the people. But Shmuel completely rejected all his excuses.

Human leaders change their minds and policies every day based on elections, political pressures, and wrong intelligence reports. They are able to look at mass murderers as partners for talk, while treating the people of Israel-who are fighting for their lives-as a nuisance and an obstacle to peace.

The clear lesson from our history and our Holy Torah is this: when outside forces try to tie our hands or misread our enemies, our only true defense is our internal clarity, our own independent strength, and our deep faith in Netzach Yisrael (the Eternity of Israel)-the unchanging reality that Borei Olam (the Creator of the world) ensures the survival of our nation. We cannot lean on the broken reed of temporary alliances. Our safety and existence rely on our own inner stamina, and on Avinu Shebashamayim-on the eternal promise of Hakadosh Baruch Hu.