Writing under the pen name Mendele Mokher Seforim (Mendel the bookseller), Sholem Yankev Abramovitsh made his Yiddish-language literary debut in 1864. His first works were biting satires of contemporary Jewish life, inspired by the thinking of the Haskalah, or Jewish enlightenment. But as he matured, and became increasingly aware of the ferocity of anti-Semitism in his native Russia, his criticism of the Jews softened while he redirected his scorn at their oppressors. In a sweeping essay, Ruth Wisse explores this transformation, focusing on Di kliatshe (“The Mare”), which she deems Mendele’s “masterwork.” The novel relates the conversation between the protagonist Isrolik and the titular mare—originally a prince, transformed into her current state by wicked sorcerers and under constant attack by man and dog alike—who is a stand-in for the Jewish people itself. (Free registration required.)

Isrolik is stirred and angered by the mare’s desperate condition. A member in good standing of the Russian version of the Humane Society, he declares himself her loyal protector and advises her how to regain her standing, . . . and he trots out his enlightenment agenda. If only she were to improve her appearance, reform her behavior, prove herself useful, and get a proper education, she would be accepted among the other steeds.

But the mare has had enough. Against her Gentile pursuers she has no recourse, but she will not submit to the false bromides of a fellow Jew. She accuses him of being disingenuous. His membership in high-minded groups did not help him drive off the dogs, so what is the real value of his goodwill? Other horses don’t have to prove their right to graze. . . .

Mendele’s mare corrects the false premise of Isrolik’s rationalism. Jews may be in need of reform, but they cannot and should not have to prove their right to flourish. Isrolik should not be trying to whip up sympathy for the poor Jews on the one hand and blaming them for the aggression they inspire on the other. The principle of human rights for the individual citizen applies equally to minorities in the family of nations. Toleration and equal opportunity are the preconditions of citizenship, not rewards to be meted out by capricious authorities. Isrolik’s compassion for the mare is no substitute for ensuring political equality.

Examining the effects of Iran’s decision to launch nearly 200 ballistic missiles at Israel on October 1, Benny Morris takes stock of the Jewish state’s strategic situation:

The massive Iranian attack has turned what began as a local war in and around the Gaza Strip and then expanded into a Hamas–Hizballah–Houthi–Israeli war [into] a regional war with wide and possibly calamitous international repercussions.

Before the Iranians launched their attack, Washington warned Tehran to desist (“don’t,” in President Biden’s phrase), and Israel itself had reportedly cautioned the Iranians secretly that such an attack would trigger a devastating Israeli counterstrike. But a much-humiliated Iran went ahead, nonetheless.

For Israel, the way forward seems to lie in an expansion of the war—in the north or south or both—until the country attains some sort of victory, or a diplomatic settlement is reached. A “victory” would mean forcing Hizballah to cease fire in exchange, say, for a cessation of the IDF bombing campaign and withdrawal to the international border, or forcing Iran, after suffering real pain from IDF attacks, to cease its attacks and rein in its proxies: Hizballah, Hamas, and the Houthis.

At the same time, writes Morris, a victory along such lines would still have its limits:

An IDF withdrawal from southern Lebanon and a cessation of Israeli air-force bombing would result in Hizballah’s resurgence and its re-investment of southern Lebanon down to the border. Neither the Americans nor the French nor the UN nor the Lebanese army—many of whose troops are Shiites who support Hizballah—would fight them.