In the tractate of Horayot, the Talmud discusses special offerings brought by a king or high priest who commits a sin. This discussion, notes Adam Kirsch, leads to a more abstract analysis of the nature of authority:

[T]he Talmud points out that when a king is afflicted with leprosy, he is no longer fit to rule. That was what happened to King Azariah, who contracted leprosy and had to leave the palace and “live in an independent house.” The Talmud seizes on the word “independent” and draws an interesting [inference]: if a non-king is “independent,” it would seem that a king is dependent—that is, a servant. In this way, the rabbis arrive at the notion that a king is meant to be the servant of his people: power is a form of responsibility, not a means of enjoyment.

What is true of kings is also true of sages. The Talmud goes on to relate a story about how Rabbi Gamliel, the head of the rabbinic academy, was informed that two of his students were “so wise that they knew how to calculate how many drops of water there are in the sea,” yet they lived in poverty, with “neither bread to eat nor a garment to wear.” Accordingly, Rabbi Gamliel decided to honor the two students by seating them in the front row of the academy.

But when he sent word to them about this promotion, they were so modest that they refused to respond. This led Gamliel to explain that leadership in the academy was not a privilege but a form of community service: “Do you imagine that I am granting you authority? I am granting you servitude.” The Talmud is consistent in viewing the exercise of power as a heavy obligation, something that should be avoided if at all possible: “Love work, hate lordship, and do not become familiar with the government,” says Pirkei Avot.

As this newsletter noted last week, Gaza is not suffering from famine, and the efforts to suggest that it is—which have been going on since at least the beginning of last year—are based on deliberate manipulation of the data. Nor, as Shany Mor explains, does international law require Israel to feed its enemies:

Article 23 of the Fourth Geneva Convention does oblige High Contracting Parties to allow for the free passage of medical and religious supplies along with “essential foodstuff, clothing, and tonics intended for children under fifteen” for the civilians of another High Contracting Party, as long as there is no serious reason for fearing that “the consignments may be diverted from their destination,” or “that a definite advantage may accrue to the military efforts or economy of the enemy” by the provision.

The Hamas regime in Gaza is, of course, not a High Contracting Party, and, more importantly, Israel has reason to fear both that aid provisions are diverted by Hamas and that a direct advantage is accrued to it by such diversions. Not only does Hamas take provisions for its own forces, but its authorities sell provisions donated by foreign bodies and use the money to finance its war. It’s notable that the first reports of Hamas’s financial difficulties emerged only in the past few weeks, once provisions were blocked.

Yet, since the war began, even European states considered friendly to Israel have repeatedly demanded that Israel “allow unhindered passage of humanitarian aid” and refrain from seizing territory or imposing “demographic change”—which means, in practice, that Gazan civilians can’t seek refuge abroad. These principles don’t merely constitute a separate system of international law that applies only to Israel, but prolong the suffering of the people they are ostensibly meant to protect:

By insisting that Hamas can’t lose any territory in the war it launched, the international community has invented a norm that never before existed and removed one of the few levers Israel has to pressure it to end the war and release the hostages.

These commitments have . . . made the plight of the hostages much worse and much longer. They made the war much longer than necessary and much deadlier for both sides. And they locked a large civilian population in a war zone where the de-facto governing authority was not only indifferent to civilian losses on its own side, but actually had much to gain by it.