As radical politics increasingly takes on the rhetoric and even the trappings of religion, argues Helen Lewis, it brings with it none of the salutary social benefits—instead making public discourse more poisonous:

Many common social-justice phrases have echoes of a catechism: announcing your pronouns or performing a land acknowledgment shows allegiance to a common belief, reassuring a group that everyone present shares the same values. But treating politics like a religion also makes it more emotionally volatile, more tribal (because differences of opinion become matters of good and evil), and more prone to outbreaks of moralizing and piety. “I was thinking about that Marx quote that religion is the opium of the masses,” Elizabeth Oldfield, the former director of the Christian think tank Theos, told me. “I think what we’ve got now is [that] politics is the amphetamines of the people.”

This phenomenon is not confined to the left, though: . . . the QAnon rally where adherents awaited the resurrection of John F. Kennedy, Jr. had a distinctly millenarian feel. As my colleague Adrienne LaFrance has reported, followers of this conspiracy-theory movement treat the anonymous Q’s online postings as something akin to divine revelations. “I feel God led me to Q,” one QAnon follower told LaFrance.

In real life, churches, mosques, synagogues, and temples force together, in their congregations, a [variegated] assortment of people who just happen to live close to them. But today’s social activism is often mediated through the Internet, where dissenting voices can easily be excluded. We have taken religion, with its innate possibility for sectarian conflict, and fed it through a polarization machine. No wonder that today’s politics can feel like a wasteland of anguished ranting—and like we are in hell already.

Small in area and population and rich in natural gas, Qatar plays an outsize role in the Middle East. While its support keeps Hamas in business, it also has vital relations with Israel that are much better than those enjoyed by many other Arab countries. Doha’s relationship with Washington, though more complex, isn’t so different. Yoel Guzansky offers a comprehensive examination of Israel’s Qatar dilemma:

At first glance, Qatar’s foreign policy seems filled with contradictions. Since 1995, it has pursued a strategy of diplomatic hedging—building relationships with multiple, often competing, actors. Qatar’s vast wealth and close ties with the United States have enabled it to maneuver independently on the international stage, maintaining relations with rival factions, including those that are direct adversaries.

Qatar plays an active role in international diplomacy, engaging in conflict mediation in over twenty regions worldwide. While not all of its mediation efforts have been successful, they have helped boost its international prestige, which it considers vital for its survival among larger and more powerful neighbors. Qatar has participated in mediation efforts in Venezuela, Lebanon, Iran, Afghanistan, and other conflict zones, reinforcing its image as a neutral broker.

Israel’s stated objective of removing Hamas from power in Gaza is fundamentally at odds with Qatar’s interest in keeping Hamas as the governing force. In theory, if the Israeli hostages would to be released, Israel could break free from its dependence on Qatari mediation. However, it is likely that even after such a development, Qatar will continue positioning itself as a mediator—particularly in enforcing agreements and shaping Gaza’s reconstruction efforts.

Qatar’s position is strengthened further by its good relations with the U.S. Yet, Guzansky notes, it has weaknesses as well that Israel could exploit:

Qatar is highly sensitive to its global image and prides itself on maintaining a neutral diplomatic posture. If Israel chooses to undermine Qatar’s reputation, it could target specific aspects of Qatari activity that are problematic from an Israeli perspective.