Chris Smaje delivers a jarring pivot from the pastoral rhythms of his farm to the brutal geopolitics of the Middle East, arguing that the Western left's obsession with Gaza is a moral distraction from the deeper, systemic collapse of the nation-state itself. While the piece begins with the sensory details of harvesting fruit, it quickly dismantles the efficacy of performative outrage, suggesting that the noise of social media activism is powerless against the machinery of centralized power and ethnonationalism.
The Limits of Outrage
Smaje opens by contrasting his own "Eden-like" existence with the "hell" unfolding in the region closer to the biblical paradise. He uses this stark juxtaposition to question the utility of his own commentary, admitting, "I think it's worth saying such things as a simple act of bearing witness to human suffering... but I don't think the noise we make about Gaza will end the carnage." This admission is rare in an era of constant digital mobilization. The author argues that while the suffering is "horrific, indefensible and genocidal," the Western response often devolves into a game of moral scoring rather than effective political action.
He critiques the demand for absolute moral purity, noting that the political field is "full of dubious conflations and bad faith insistence on moral absolutes." Smaje specifically targets the conflation of hatred for the Israeli military with hatred of Jewish people, calling it a "dubious and politically dangerous tactic." He also pushes back against the social media imperative to unfollow anyone who doesn't prioritize Gaza, observing that "too much social media discourse involves very online people living in their own versions of Eden spending their time scoring points off similarly positioned folks." This framing challenges the reader to consider whether their outrage is actually helping or merely soothing their own conscience.
Critics might argue that dismissing the power of public pressure ignores historical precedents where global attention forced policy shifts. However, Smaje counters this by distinguishing between movements that strengthened the state, like the civil rights movement, and those that challenge it, like the Palestinian cause, arguing that "we have little power to upend this modern system of states through mere protest."
Politics is intrinsically a matter of ifs and buts. No ifs and buts, do you unequivocally condemn Hamas and the October 7 attacks? Well, I do condemn them, but if we're going to talk about Hamas and October 7, we also need to talk about Likud, May 15, June 5 and so on.
The Distraction of the Nation-State
The core of Smaje's argument shifts from the specific tragedy in Gaza to a broader critique of the modern political order. He suggests that Gaza serves as a "satisfying morality tale" for the left because it fits a neat narrative of "downtrodden goodies and neocolonial baddies," whereas other conflicts or the systemic issues of food and energy systems lack this moral resonance. He posits that this focus leaves untouched the "deeper frailties of our world – its food systems, its energy systems, its trading systems, and its system of states."
Smaje connects the extreme case of ethnonationalism in Israel to the everyday workings of centralized power, noting that "ethnonationalism merely occupies the more radical end of a spectrum encompassing the whole modern political field of centralized, bureaucratic states." He argues that without a politics geared toward "reconstructing local agroecologies" and moving beyond the nation-state, radical protests are ultimately futile. This is a provocative stance that reframes the conversation from international diplomacy to local survival and autonomy.
He also touches on the shifting geopolitical landscape, suggesting that recent conflicts may inadvertently strengthen the Iranian regime and bridge differences among Islamic countries, signaling a "waning US role." While he acknowledges that capricious figures in the White House might achieve short-term successes, he warns that "capricious US politics plus irremediably waning US geopolitical power plus a withering nuclear arsenal equals potential worldwide trouble."
Increasingly, I think it will be useful to frame thinking around crises, whether political or biophysical (ultimately, it's the same), with this working assumption: nobody is coming to help.
A Path Beyond the State
In the final section, Smaje reflects on the possibility of change, drawing a parallel to the transformation of the Irish peace process. He notes that while it was once taboo to support a united Ireland, the situation has changed, and people like his neighbor Jo Berry now work for peace with former enemies. Yet, he remains skeptical that a similar resolution is imminent for Palestine or for the global shift away from centralized states.
He concludes that the solution lies not in grand gestures or global attention but in "quiet local work, healing their rifts with one another and with the natural world around them." Smaje decides to stop writing extensively about Gaza, choosing instead to focus on "agrarian localism" as a more tangible way to contribute to a better future. He accepts the risk of being unfollowed, stating, "If I get unfollowed for my silence on Gaza, or alternatively for my words about it, well … so be it." This resignation underscores his belief that the real work happens far from the spotlight of global news cycles.
If those things come to pass, I suspect it will come about slowly, and more from people doing quiet local work, healing their rifts with one another and with the natural world around them, rather than making too much of a show about their opinions on Gaza.
Bottom Line
Smaje's most compelling argument is the assertion that the Western left's fixation on Gaza, while morally necessary as an act of witness, fails to address the root causes of global instability: the rigid nation-state system and the collapse of local resilience. The piece's greatest vulnerability is its potential to sound defeatist regarding the power of collective action, yet its call to shift focus from global outrage to local reconstruction offers a necessary, if difficult, alternative path forward.