The gradual disintegration of Iraq has prompted any number of backward glances: At President Obama and his policies; at the stewardship of Iraq's now ex-Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki ; at the forces of religion and tribalism. My own backward glance is to January 2008, and the early stages of the campaign for the Republican presidential nomination. At a town meeting in New Hampshire, candidate Sen. John McCain was asked to comment on President George W. Bush's assertion that American troops might have to remain in Iraq for 50 years.
"Maybe one hundred," Mr. McCain replied. "As long as Americans are not being injured or harmed or wounded or killed, it's fine with me and I hope it would be fine with you if we maintain a presence in a very volatile part of the world where al Qaeda is training, recruiting, equipping, and motivating people every single day."
All hell broke loose in the media. Democratic candidates then-Sens. Hillary Clinton andBarack Obama swiftly condemned what was widely regarded as a gaffe. On CNN Mr. McCain felt obliged to clarify. "It's not a matter of how long we're in Iraq," he explained, alluding to our military presence in Japan, Germany and South Korea, "it's if we succeed or not.

In retrospect, Mr. McCain was correct: He predicted that setting a timetable for withdrawal would mean "chaos, that means genocide, that means undoing all the success we've achieved." This is now happening. But the press consensus, then as now, was that the American people were war-weary and a President McCain would perpetuate Mr. Bush's "failed" policies.
The truth is that at any given time the American people are weary (or wary) of war. They were surely war-weary in 1864, when Abraham Lincoln did not expect to be re-elected; and they were war-weary in early 1942 when Pearl Harbor had been bombed, the U.S. Navy devastated and the Army had surrendered to the Japanese on the Philippine island of Bataan. In 1949, there was a precursor of sorts to the McCain controversy when Secretary of State Dean Acheson was asked by an inquisitive senator if American troops might have to be stationed in postwar Western Europe to fortify NATO, and whether they might remain for five, or perhaps eight or 10, years?
"The answer to that question," replied Acheson, "is a clear and absolute 'no.' "
Acheson immediately regretted his response, and American troops were dispatched to Europe, where they remain 65 years later. U.S. troops still patrol the border between South and North Korea as well. This commitment has been expensive and perhaps wearisome for the soldiers involved. But would anyone suggest that our postwar commitment to European security was ill-advised, or that South Korea should be left to the mercies of the North? Very few shots have been fired in these outposts, but they have kept the peace and transformed the continents of Europe and Asia.
We have here an object lesson in statecraft: The duty of political leaders in perilous times is to lead, not follow, public opinion. And "war-weariness," whatever that means, is no excuse for dereliction of historic duty.
The much-admired former Senate Majority Leader Mike Mansfield (D., Mont.) routinely demanded the withdrawal of American troops from NATO, and just as routinely, senators from both parties rejected his counsel. But in the same year (1971, at the height of the Vietnam War) that the Mansfield Amendment came closest to success, gaining 36 votes, Democratic Sen. George McGovern began his presidential campaign with its theme of "Come home, America." McGovern was clobbered in the election, but 42 years later his isolationism is mainstream doctrine in his party.
The inconvenient lesson is that the withdrawal of American peacekeeping forces, in modern history, has almost invariably led to catastrophe. The departure of federal troops from the Reconstruction South paved the way for Jim Crow. The swift American exit from Europe after 1918 subtracted from the continent's collective security, leading to World War II. It might even be argued that the stabilizing influence of American troops in Haiti, Nicaragua and even interwar China did considerably more good than harm.
It is impossible to predict Iraq's future, and equally impossible to anticipate events in neighboring Syria. The sobering fact is that President Obama's disengagement from the region is a matter of political principle and he is unlikely to alter his course. But the evidence of American withdrawal is now palpable, and as clear as the images of ISIS atrocities. So which is more wearisome: The resolve to sustain our burden of leadership, or the prospect of a world in chaos and uncertainty?
Mr. Terzian, literary editor of the Weekly Standard, is the author of "Architects of Power: Roosevelt, Eisenhower, and the American Century," (ReadHowYouWant, 2012).


1c) Why Jews Are Worried

Deborah E. Lipstadt on the Rising Anti-Semitism in Europe

AN old Jewish joke goes like this: “What’s the definition of a Jewish telegram? ‘Start worrying. Details to follow.’ ”

I am often asked by fellow Jews about contemporary manifestations of anti-Semitism, particularly in Europe. “Is this just like 1939? Are we on the cusp of another Holocaust?” Until now, my answer has been an unequivocal “no.” I have criticized community leaders who, either out of genuine concern or to advance their own purposes, use Holocaust analogies to describe contemporary conditions. These claims are ahistorical. They overstate what is going on now and completely understate the situation in 1939.

The differences between then and now are legion. When there is an outbreak of anti-Semitism today, officials condemn it. This is light-years away from the 1930s and 1940s, when governments were not only silent but complicit. Memory also distinguishes the present from previous events. Now, in contrast to the 1930s, we know matters can escalate. Jews today are resolute in their determination: “Never again.”

And despite all this I wonder if I am too sanguine. Last month, pro-Gaza protesters on Kurfürstendamm, the legendary avenue in Berlin, chanted, “Jews, Jews, cowardly swine.” Demonstrators in Dortmund and Frankfurt chanted, “Hamas, Hamas; Jews to the gas!” And a pro-Hamas marcher in Berlin broke away from the crowd and assaulted an older man who was quietly standing on a corner holding an Israeli flag.

On the eve of Bastille Day, a group of Parisian Jews were trapped in a synagogue by pro-Palestinian rioters and had to be rescued by the police. A few weeks ago signs wereposted in Rome urging a boycott of 50 Jewish-owned businesses. In central London last week, anti-Israel protesters targeted a Sainsbury’s grocery, and the manager reflexively pulled kosher products off the shelves. (The supermarket chain later apologized.)
It would be simple to link all this outrage to events in Gaza. But this trend has been evident for a while. 
In March 2012, four people were killed at a Jewish day school in Toulouse, France. (Last month, a Jewish community center there was firebombed.) In December 2012, Israeli officials warned Jewish men who wanted to visit synagogues in Denmark not to don their skullcaps until they were inside the building. It is increasingly common for Jewish tourists in Western Europe to avoid carrying anything that might distinguish them as such. A shooting at the Jewish Museum in Brussels in May, a month before the latest Gaza conflict began, killed four people.

I am unpersuaded by those who try to dismiss what is happening as “just rhetoric.” It is language, after all, that’s at the heart of the ubiquitous slippage from anger at Israeli military action to hatred of Jews.

Nor am I comforted by the explanation that these actions are being taken by “disgruntled Muslim youth.” (By one estimate, 95 percent of anti-Semitic actions in France are committed by youths of Arab or African descent.) Many of these Muslims were born in Europe, and many of those who weren’t are the parents of a new generation of Europeans.

It’s true that this is not the anti-Semitism of the 1930s, which came from the right and was rooted in longstanding Christian views that demonized the Jews. Traditionally, Islam did not treat Jews this way. But in the past century a distinct strain of Muslim anti-Semitism has emerged. Built on a foundation of antipathy toward non-Muslims, it mixes Christian anti-Semitism — imported to the Middle East by European missionaries — and a more leftist, secular form of anti-Semitism. It is evident in political cartoons, editorials, television shows and newspaper articles.

The Hamas charter is an example. It contains references to “The Protocols of the Elders of Zion,” a notorious forgery created by Russian czarist police officers in 1903 and later used as Nazi propaganda. The charter accuses Jews of relying on secret societies to foment global economic and political disasters. It calls on adherents to prepare for “the next round with the Jews, the merchants of war.”

The rationales — “it’s just rhetoric,” “it’s just Muslims” — bother me almost as much as the outrages. Instead of explaining away these actions, cultural, religious and academic leaders in all the countries where these events have occurred should be shaken to the core, not just about the safety of their Jewish neighbors, but about the future of the seemingly liberal, enlightened societies they belong to. Yet when a Hamas spokesman recently stood by his statement that Jews used the blood of non-Jewish children for their matzos — one of the oldest anti-Semitic canards around — European elites were largely silent.

Seventy years after the Holocaust, many Jews in Europe no longer feel safe. Hiring an armed guard to protect people coming for weekly prayer is not the action of a secure people. In too many cities worldwide, directions to the local synagogue conclude with, “You will recognize it by the police car in front of the building.” France has seen a sharp rise in the number of Jews who have decided to emigrate (though the figures are still fairly small).

The telegram has arrived. Jews are worrying. It is time for those who value a free, democratic, open, multicultural and enlightened society to do so, too. This is not another Holocaust, but it’s bad enough.
Deborah E. Lipstadt is professor of modern Jewish history and Holocaust studies at Emory University and the author, most recently, of “The Eichmann Trial.”

A version of this op-ed appears in print on August 21, 2014, on page A21 of the New York edition with the headline: Why Jews Are Worried. 


1d) Inside The Bomb Shelters: A Look at The Reality of Israeli Civilian Life Under Terrorist Rocket Fire
By Katie Pavlich 


Editor's note: I was in Israel this week on a trip sponsored by the National Religious Broadcasters and hosted by Israel's Ministry of Tourism. 

Israel – On Wednesday morning I walked downstairs at my hotel in Jerusalem to grab breakfast before jumping on a bus headed south to Gaza's northern border with Israel. The plans for the day had changed as a result of the ceasefire agreement falling apart late Tuesday, so we left around 8: 30. When I got to breakfast at 7:30, my Red Alert application on my cell phone had already shown dozens of rockets had been launched into Israel from Hamas overnight. In fact, one siren had gone off in Jerusalem around 10 p.m. the night before a barrage of rockets had been fired at Tel Aviv. By the time breakfast started and ended, 12 rockets had been launched. More rockets were launched that day than during anytime so far in this war.
As we headed south and down the hill away from Jerusalem, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Being on a bus when rockets are being launched is not ideal. Roadways are considered open areas and often times the Iron Dome allows rockets headed for open areas to fall and running to shelter after the bus is pulled over isn’t an option. Regardless, I needed to get down to see how Israeli’s live under constant attack from Hamas terrorists. There are plenty of reporters stationed in Gaza and the West Bank, but it’s hard to find stories about the hell Israeli civilians go through when rockets are fired hundreds of times a day. Since June, Hamas has fired more than 3500 rockets at Israel. Over the past few days since the ceasefire was broken, Hamas has fired 300 rockets into Israel, killing a child and wounding others.
After a short drive from Jerusalem, we arrived at an intelligence center, Hof Ashkelon Regional Council. Less than five minutes after getting out of the parking lot and into the building, the rocket sirens went off and we quickly moved to a shelter down stairs.
“We work here and the thing that is the most most terrifying to me is to get used to the daily shutting because I have to say my children, one of them came with me today to work and he heard the alarm and just went away to the shelter. I don’t need to say anything to him, it’s building behavior and this is the most difficult for me because to get used to terrorism, to get used to this kind of life it’s catastrophic. We can’t live this way, that’s why we come here each day. No one gets a vacation,” one woman working at the Council explained. “We have to be strong, so our army can work.”
After our briefing in Hof Ashkelon, we continued to a little agricultural community on the border with Gaza called Netiv Ha’Ashara. A man named Raz, whose family has been in this area for decades, met us.
Ten minutes into our talk with him outside in a courtyard, the rocket sirens sounded again and we ran to get into shelters. Because Netiv Ha'Ashara is right on the border with Gaza, we only had five seconds to get there. Shortly after taking cover, we heard the Iron Dome intercept a rocket nearby. When we left the shelter we saw where the interception happened in the sky as a trail of smoke from the explosion was left behind.
When it was safe to go back outside, we moved inside to a community center that is used for gatherings. Raz briefed us on the challenges of living in the area, the history, etc. and then again, we heard the sirens. We ran to a shelter attached to the room and shortly after, heard an explosion. This time it wasn’t from the Iron Dome intercepting the rocket in the sky, but from a rocket landing in a nearby house.
Raz ran out to find out what happened and to make sure nobody had been hurt.
“There was a wreck in a house. This was a house that I used to live in until four and a half weeks [ago],” he said. “I built my new house here and I rented an apartment here and the one that is bombed now is where I lived four and a half weeks [ago]. The owner of the house had a baby two and a half weeks [ago].”
Walking around the community, Raz showed us a daycare center and the bomb shelter that sits just a few feet away. Many other shelters in the area were newly delivered over the past few weeks. 
Although rocket fire is a major ongoing concern, the people here have been dealing with them for 10 years. The success of the Iron Dome has saved lives and serves to combat rockets falling into communities. The biggest concern now are Hamas tunnels, which were used to kidnap three Israeli teenagers in June, sparking the conflict. Raz and dozens of fathers like him worry about terrorists using tunnels to get into their communities to kidnap their children, which is why he sleeps with weapons and military gear next to his bed. He also walks around with a pistol in his waistband. Thirty of the tunnels built by Hamas from Gaza to Israeli cities, towns and the backyards of civilians have been destroyed, but the government will not say if they have all been annihilated.
After leaving Netiv Ha'Ashar and the Gaza border we drove to Ashkelon, one of the large cities in Israel under constant rocket attack during our visit. We met with the mayor’s office and spoke to the vice mayor about life in a rapidly growing beach city. We also heard from two teenagers living and studying there.
“I want you to know it’s a very hard experience to live like this,” student and head of the Ashkelon Youth Council Yuvall Sadon said. “We try to do our best. We try to give all the children living in Ashkelon spirit and a sense of a little bit of fun and normalcy."
Sadon works to help get children into shelters when rockets fly into Ashkelon.
“As the head of the Youth Council in Ashkelon, what we did is we opened more than 100 shelters,” she said. “We help to guide little children in the shelter and every evening we try to do something for the youth because it’s summer, it’s our vacation and they took the freedom from us because we always have to be thirty seconds away from a shelter. It’s not normal, it’s not a game so we try to stay normal and we want peace and we things normalized. We don’t want war and we don’t want rockets. We’re sick and tired of this.”
Two hundred and seventy two Schools are supposed to open in seven days with 27,000 students in the city but that opening may be delayed due to continuing rocket fire.
Israel’s Iron Dome system is a miracle and although it stops people from being killed, it cannot stop the mental trauma and daily disruptions of living life Hamas wreaks on Israeli civilians. Not to mention the toll terror takes on the tourism industry and ultimately the economy. Regardless, life goes on.
“We go to PTA meetings, we go to shops, when we get old enough if we’re lucky we can play with our grandchildren,” our guide Amir Orly said. “For us Israel is home.”