20. Be as courageous as you can.
If none of us is prepared to die for freedom, then all of us will die under tyranny.
-Timothy Snyder, On Tyranny
Courage Has a Life of Its Own
It is difficult to talk about courage in oneself.
Even though I am a practicing Jew who is deeply involved in the religious life of my community, my understanding of practicing courage comes more from my study of Buddhism. We are here in this life for a moment. There is no enduring self or enduring anything; change is inevitable, death is coming. What matters in this fleeting life? What provides profound satisfaction? Material possessions? Bodily pleasure? Or doing what your quietest, deepest inner voice tells you is right?
I’m not speaking of a voice of pure passion, impulse or intuition. I mean a voice that considers carefully all you have learned and know. Heart and mind, together.
In this life, how much do we really know, for sure? The universe is so vast, our world so complex, the amount of available information expanding exponentially. But when it matters, we often know enough to step into the breach. We can gather our thoughts and experience, and act with conviction.
When I served in Congress, I knew that the fates of the Jewish and Palestinian peoples were inextricably linked. I knew there was no hope for justice, self-determination or peace for one people without achieving those things for the other. I knew that under every 21st-century president, muscular and proactive U.S. leadership to break through stalemate and cycles of violence had faltered, while increasingly intransigent Israeli governments acted to make peace more difficult and Palestinian political culture deteriorated.
The Two-State Solution Act I authored simply required us to follow existing U.S. law about the conditions of aid to other countries.
After the 2021 conflict leading to much destruction and hundreds of deaths in Gaza, many of my most thoughtful colleagues in Congress focused on humanitarian aid and reconstruction. I supported them, but I focused my own efforts on tackling root causes and pushing the Palestinians and Israelis to accept each other and negotiate a just solution.
The Two-State Solution Act I authored was hardly radical. It simply required us to follow existing U.S. law about the conditions of our aid to other countries, take steps to strengthen mutual exchange and democracy building, and stop the expansion of settlements and other moves that make a just peace impossible.
Sadly, in the context of American politics in the early 2020s, I understood that I was taking a big risk. AIPAC and its allies couldn’t stand the idea of having a former synagogue president and joyous, out-there Jew like me leading the charge to demand that Israel do anything in particular. Worse, I was the scion of a Jewish family with a deeply respected history of public service going back generations, including my dad and uncle’s 72 combined years in Congress (by far the longest of any siblings in the 235-year history of our democracy).
Friends asked why I would do this. After I introduced the legislation, colleagues approached me on the floor and said, “Andy, I read your bill. It’s a terrific/thoughtful/brilliant/[fill in a flattering adjective] piece of legislation. Of course, I won’t be co-sponsoring it.” They usually didn’t say why. They didn’t have to. They knew I knew. They couldn’t afford to cross AIPAC.
These are good people. But that “couldn’t afford” is where courage curled up and died.
In the decennial redistricting that preceded the 2022 election, Michigan lost a seat in the House, and I was forced into an unwanted primary with a colleague. My opponent eagerly embraced AIPAC, and their Super PAC spent more than $4 million of dark money to defeat me.
Their effort was successful. Yet, writing two years later, I am clear: I couldn’t afford not to introduce my legislation. I couldn’t afford not to speak the truth that a real friend to the Jewish people of Israel must level with them about what is necessary to achieve peace and security.
I certainly didn’t want to leave Congress after four years; I felt I was just getting started. And yet, I am at peace. There’s no way I could afford to stay in an elected office and fail to act on such a clear vision, with so many lives and the stability of an entire region at stake.
And look what has happened since — senseless destruction and the death of innocents on a horrifying scale. Imagine if I had done the politically expedient thing, kept my thoughts to myself and managed to stay in Congress. How would I have felt? No, I couldn’t afford that.
Courage may cost you dearly in bodily safety, material wealth or power. But its reward of abiding inner peace cannot be bought at any price.
Plus, acts of courage that appear “unsuccessful” often build momentum for change down the road. In the last two years, I have been in touch with scores of young people demanding justice for all who inhabit the Holy Land and taking risks to achieve it. We each have an opportunity to make a little contribution, but courage has a life of its own.
