"If we grant all these differences, we may well end up with a political program not so different from that of the current Israeli government. Yet at the very least, the brute facts demand that such a program be pursued ambivalently, even regretfully—not with the sort of reflexive, defensive cheerleading one finds in many Jewish quarters today. If indeed these policies are necessary, then our own support of them must be tinged with the awareness that every day, they place the Jewish state on the wrong side of justice. Perhaps these "costs" are justified by a higher good—but let's not pretend that they don't exist."

Is this passage supposed to represent something about the distance of progressive opinion about Israel's practices in the Middle East from that of less mindful folks? On the one hand, we have feral settlers cheering the death during childbirth of a Palestinian woman held at a checkpoint at the whim of a teenage IDF kid. On the other, we have thoughtful and agonized guys like the author witnessing that death with regret, swollen with humanity, mindful of the impenetrable paradoxes life presents us. Note that the number of occupants in the hearse remains the same in both cases.

I have no doubt that Mr. Michaelson is a sterling fellow and that his concerns are heartfelt and genuine. It's the fetishizing of one's internal states when dealing with matters that are basically political that bothers me. An apartheid wall (yeah, it is) tolerated by bigots is precisely the same height and density as one tolerated by soulful and enlightened guys like Mr. Michaelson.

I don't know if it's a legacy of the 20th century's psychological turn or of 1960's narcissism, but the idea that our musings and ambivalences ought somehow to enjoy priority over our behavior has really acquired tons more legitimacy than it deserves. Because this attitude suggests that self-examination may relieve one of the obligation to commit, it can tend to prolong the outrageous. 

Furthermore, in just the way that Bill Clinton's illusory allegiance with the downtrodden allowed him to get away with putting into place a political program (NAFTA, welfare reform, aggressions against Sudan and Iraq) that Reagan could only dream of, so too can superficial paeans to the complexity of life give cover to all sorts of mischief (e.g., the proliferation of "facts on the ground" while the good-hearted earnestly confessed their regrets at the unutterable complications of Mideast policy).

I know it's become fashionable in some quarters to throw up one's hands at the intricacies of the Palestine/Israel dilemma. But the problem remains a political, not psychological, one. One party has the preponderance of justice on its side, one doesn't. The struggle needs to be external.

Mr Michaelson cites an ad campaign which asks, "Could an opera make us stand up for the truth?", and claims the question remains unanswered. Well, given that Phillip Glass operas are typically attended by those most responsive to the apotheosis of the personal (with its complementary withdrawal from engagement) that Mr. Michaelson champions, and given that the thirty years since Satyagraha's premiere have not been notable for our engagement in the service of justice, I think the answer's pretty clear.