Nachman Oz offers a startling reframing of modern conservatism, arguing that the movement's survival depends not on tax cuts or deregulation, but on a return to the "unchosen obligations" of family, faith, and nation. In a landscape often dominated by abstract economic theories, Oz spotlights Yoram Hazony's radical proposition: that true freedom is found not in liberation from tradition, but in the heavy, permanent duties of parenthood and covenant. This is a timely intervention for those weary of the atomized individualism that defines contemporary Western life, suggesting that the path forward requires us to stop asking what we can choose and start honoring what has been given to us.
The Architecture of Obligation
Oz positions Hazony as a thinker who bridges the gap between ancient scripture and modern statecraft, rejecting the liberal fantasy that society can remain neutral on matters of truth and morality. "There are righteous men who perish through their righteousness, and there are the wicked who flourish by their wickedness," Oz notes, quoting Ecclesiastes to illustrate Hazony's embrace of a messy, non-idealized reality. The core of Hazony's argument, as presented by Oz, is a fierce rejection of the "liberal myth of neutrality," which the author describes as the "fantasy that society can stand for everything, and thus stands for nothing." This framing is powerful because it exposes the hollowness of a politics that refuses to take a stand on the fundamental structures of human community.
Oz writes, "He rejects the liberal promise of a smorgasbord of identities as incoherent and corrosive." This critique cuts deep into the current cultural moment, where identity is often treated as a consumer choice rather than a deep inheritance. The author argues that Hazony sees the erosion of public religion not merely as a spiritual loss, but as a political catastrophe that leaves a vacuum for coercive progressivism to fill. "Without God, without a shared recognition of the divine, society cannot distinguish between right and wrong beyond the shallow consensus of the moment," Oz observes. This is a compelling diagnosis of the drift toward relativism, though critics might argue that enforcing a specific theological framework risks alienating the pluralistic populations of modern democracies.
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The Family as the Seed of the Nation
The most distinctive part of Oz's coverage is his exploration of how Hazony roots political loyalty in the biological and emotional realities of the family. Oz draws a direct line from the struggles of raising children to the duties of citizenship, quoting Hazony's insight that "the responsibilities undertaken in bringing children into the world are permanent, remaining in force for the rest of our lives whether we consent to them or not." This is a profound challenge to the social contract theory that dominates Western political thought, which often assumes that all obligations are based on voluntary consent.
Oz paraphrases Hazony's view that the family is not a temporary arrangement but a permanent bond: "The parents' consent or lack thereof is irrelevant to their continuing responsibilities... What motivates them is their loyalty, which is the fact that the parents understand the child as a part of themselves." By extending this logic to the nation, Hazony argues that patriotism is not a choice but an inheritance, much like the duty a child owes to aging parents. "We are commanded to honour our parents precisely because it is hard," Oz writes, highlighting the idea that political stability relies on this same capacity to honor difficult, unchosen bonds. This perspective offers a robust defense of tradition, yet it raises a practical question: can a modern, mobile economy sustain the multigenerational, occupation-based family units Hazony seems to idealize? Oz admits this may be "wildly idealistic" for the average worker, suggesting a tension between Hazony's moral vision and economic reality.
Agency in a Formless World
In discussing Hazony's work on the Book of Esther, Oz shifts the focus to how a people can navigate power when they are not in control of their own state. The author describes a world that is "formless, directionless, anarchical, liquid, void," where human agency is the only counterweight to chaos. Oz captures Hazony's unique synthesis of faith and action: "Faith is not passive. It demands action." This is a crucial distinction, separating Hazony from thinkers who view religion as a private retreat from the world. Instead, Hazony sees the biblical tradition as a "blueprint for national life" that requires strategic engagement with power.
Oz quotes Hazony's metaphor of the ship on the sea to illustrate this dynamic: "Man's place is perpetually to live in ships on the surface of the water, on the edge of the abyss." The argument here is that while we cannot control the vast forces of history, we can "hoist a sail" to catch the unseen wind of providence. This framing is particularly effective in an era of global uncertainty, offering a sense of direction without promising total control. However, the reliance on a specific theological interpretation of history may limit the appeal of this argument to secular audiences who do not share the premise of a guiding divine spirit.
Experience is the oracle of truth; and where its responses are unequivocal, they ought to be conclusive and sacred.
Bottom Line
Oz's commentary succeeds in distilling Hazony's complex philosophy into a coherent call for a politics of obligation, effectively challenging the dominant narrative of individual autonomy. The strongest part of this argument is its grounding in the tangible, unchosen realities of family life, which provides a sturdy foundation for national loyalty. However, the piece's biggest vulnerability lies in its potential impracticality for a modern, globalized economy that thrives on individual mobility and secular diversity. Readers should watch for how this covenantal vision translates into concrete policy, particularly in a society where the "unchosen obligations" of tradition are increasingly viewed as burdens rather than blessings.