Today's Substack post by Marc McInerney is a must-share. In these days of rage, dialogue and dissent have come with a terrible cost, especially when we have we given up listening to each other, regardless of our views.
Over the past few days, I’ve sent out a series of essays tracing the fault lines beneath the war now unfolding between Israel and Iran—with the United States, once again, sliding toward the breach. I’ve tried to hold the mirror steady. No propaganda. No posturing. Just the truth, or as close as I can get to it.
It’s been one of the most enlightening stretches of writing I’ve done. The books, the histories, the maps, the testimonies—they’ve shifted something in me. And I hoped, in good faith, they might do the same for others.
But apparently, honesty comes at a cost. The unsubscribes have come fast. So have the accusations—“antisemite,” “Jew-hater.” Let me say this clearly and once: that is a lie. A lazy, vicious lie. Anyone who knows me—who knows my family, which spans Lutheran, Catholic, and Jewish traditions—knows better. Anyone who’s broken bread with me, argued in good faith, heard me talk about justice, my father, or the weight of history—knows better.
The truth is, we are being trained not to think. Not to hold two ideas in our heads at once. That Israel has the right to exist and has committed horrific acts. That the Palestinian cause is just and has been weaponized by extremists. That the Iranian people are brilliant, soulful, resilient and ruled by a regime that crushes them daily. These are not contradictions. They’re the cost of understanding the world as it is, not as we’d like it to be.
But nuance doesn’t sell. Rage does. And in the absence of thought, we get men like Donald Trump and Pete Hegseth—frauds in flag pins, thumping their chests from safe distances while the poor are marched to war.
I don’t trust Donald Trump because he’s a liar, a degenerate, and a man who hates half of America. I don’t trust Pete Hegseth because he’s not serious—just another television soldier in a nation addicted to spectacle. Say what you will about the men who led us into Vietnam—they were wrong, yes. But they were not clowns. They wrestled with complexity. They understood the stakes. These men don’t.
This new breed? They don’t make mistakes—they manufacture them. They don’t defend America—they fracture it. And they are not walking us into war—they are shoving us into it.
It is easy to start wars. It is much harder to end them.
I know many of you have recently joined—hundreds came aboard after the Brian Wilson piece—and I thank you. There’s more music to come. That’s a part of me, and a promise I intend to keep. But this is part of it too. The politics. The history. The moral questions that don’t resolve in three chords or a perfect chorus. The messiness of life will live here too.
And so there are a few pledges I’ll make to you this morning.
First, everything I write will be researched, fact-checked, and delivered from my point of view—which is center-left, anti-MAGA, but not anti-Republican. I have dear friends who are traditional conservatives. We disagree, often fiercely. But we respect one another because we haven’t forgotten how to listen.
You will not agree with everything I write here. And that’s the point. If disagreement becomes a reason to demonize or dehumanize, then we’ve already lost more than any war could take from us. Dialogue matters. Dissent matters. If we’ve become so siloed in our convictions that we can’t even bear to hear another person's interpretation of history or hope, then we’re not living in a democracy—we’re living in an echo chamber.
So I’ll be honest without being pedantic. I’ll be blunt without resorting to stereotype or slogans. You’ll get the clearest version of what I believe, and why.
And I want to say this, too: I’ve heard from many of you—thoughtful anecdotes, kind notes, serious questions, real dialogue. It’s been exactly what I was hoping for when I started this space. So please, keep the comments, critiques, challenges, and suggestions coming. Substack, for me, has been an experiment. An adventure. And I hope you’ll continue on the road with me.
This isn’t a clean page. It’s a living one. And everything that matters is going to be on it.
—Mark
It’s been one of the most enlightening stretches of writing I’ve done. The books, the histories, the maps, the testimonies—they’ve shifted something in me. And I hoped, in good faith, they might do the same for others.
But apparently, honesty comes at a cost. The unsubscribes have come fast. So have the accusations—“antisemite,” “Jew-hater.” Let me say this clearly and once: that is a lie. A lazy, vicious lie. Anyone who knows me—who knows my family, which spans Lutheran, Catholic, and Jewish traditions—knows better. Anyone who’s broken bread with me, argued in good faith, heard me talk about justice, my father, or the weight of history—knows better.
The truth is, we are being trained not to think. Not to hold two ideas in our heads at once. That Israel has the right to exist and has committed horrific acts. That the Palestinian cause is just and has been weaponized by extremists. That the Iranian people are brilliant, soulful, resilient and ruled by a regime that crushes them daily. These are not contradictions. They’re the cost of understanding the world as it is, not as we’d like it to be.
But nuance doesn’t sell. Rage does. And in the absence of thought, we get men like Donald Trump and Pete Hegseth—frauds in flag pins, thumping their chests from safe distances while the poor are marched to war.
I don’t trust Donald Trump because he’s a liar, a degenerate, and a man who hates half of America. I don’t trust Pete Hegseth because he’s not serious—just another television soldier in a nation addicted to spectacle. Say what you will about the men who led us into Vietnam—they were wrong, yes. But they were not clowns. They wrestled with complexity. They understood the stakes. These men don’t.
This new breed? They don’t make mistakes—they manufacture them. They don’t defend America—they fracture it. And they are not walking us into war—they are shoving us into it.
It is easy to start wars. It is much harder to end them.
I know many of you have recently joined—hundreds came aboard after the Brian Wilson piece—and I thank you. There’s more music to come. That’s a part of me, and a promise I intend to keep. But this is part of it too. The politics. The history. The moral questions that don’t resolve in three chords or a perfect chorus. The messiness of life will live here too.
And so there are a few pledges I’ll make to you this morning.
First, everything I write will be researched, fact-checked, and delivered from my point of view—which is center-left, anti-MAGA, but not anti-Republican. I have dear friends who are traditional conservatives. We disagree, often fiercely. But we respect one another because we haven’t forgotten how to listen.
You will not agree with everything I write here. And that’s the point. If disagreement becomes a reason to demonize or dehumanize, then we’ve already lost more than any war could take from us. Dialogue matters. Dissent matters. If we’ve become so siloed in our convictions that we can’t even bear to hear another person's interpretation of history or hope, then we’re not living in a democracy—we’re living in an echo chamber.
So I’ll be honest without being pedantic. I’ll be blunt without resorting to stereotype or slogans. You’ll get the clearest version of what I believe, and why.
And I want to say this, too: I’ve heard from many of you—thoughtful anecdotes, kind notes, serious questions, real dialogue. It’s been exactly what I was hoping for when I started this space. So please, keep the comments, critiques, challenges, and suggestions coming. Substack, for me, has been an experiment. An adventure. And I hope you’ll continue on the road with me.
This isn’t a clean page. It’s a living one. And everything that matters is going to be on it.
—Mark