Kamphaeng Phet, Thailand
June 22, 2026

I’d intended to write about my experiences in Thailand over the past few weeks. There is plenty to write about. Life moves at a different pace here. The people are friendly, the food is excellent, and for a seventy-three-year-old American-Israeli who has spent much of his life in business, Thailand offers a perspective that is difficult to find elsewhere.

Yet my mind keeps returning to something entirely different.

I find myself thinking about social media, about the information war that has unfolded since October 7, and about a realization that has been nagging at me for more than a decade.

The View from Mars

The more time I spend looking at X, Facebook, YouTube, and the rest of the modern media ecosystem, the more convinced I become that we are witnessing a form of warfare that governments, militaries, and even most citizens still do not fully understand.

A visitor arriving from Mars and consuming a few weeks of social media content would likely conclude that Israel is one of the great villains of the modern world. The accusations are relentless. Occupation. Oppression. Starvation. Ethnic cleansing. Genocide.

Whether each accusation is true, false, exaggerated, or stripped of context almost seems secondary. The cumulative effect is what matters. Day after day, post after post, image after image, a narrative takes shape.

And once a narrative takes hold, facts often struggle to catch up.

The First Time I Saw It

What strikes me most is that I saw an early version of this years ago.

Around fifteen years ago I was building lead-generation systems for my company. Marketing was changing rapidly. Facebook was becoming a dominant force, and anyone involved in online business had to understand how information moved across the internet.

At the time I was living in Nahariya, Israel. Because Facebook knew my location, I was routinely shown local news stories.

One morning I came across an article describing alleged abuse of Arab workers at an Israeli checkpoint. The story painted a picture of systematic mistreatment and harassment.

The problem was simple.

I had driven through that area earlier that day.

I had seen nothing unusual.

Perhaps I had missed something. That was certainly possible. But the story was written with absolute certainty, and my own observations did not match what was being reported.

So I commented.

I stated that I had traveled through the area that morning and had not witnessed anything remotely resembling the account being described.

Manufactured Consensus

Within minutes, responses began arriving.

Several links appeared almost immediately. Different websites. Different headlines. Different presentations.

Yet they all supported the same version of events.

To an ordinary reader, this looked like overwhelming confirmation. Multiple sources meant credibility.

To me, it looked suspicious.

I was an online marketer. I understood search engines. I understood content networks. I understood how easy it was to create the appearance of independent verification when, in reality, multiple websites were simply repeating the same underlying narrative.

The technology available at that time was primitive compared with today’s artificial intelligence tools. Yet even then, a determined operator could manufacture an impressive amount of apparent consensus.

What I was seeing wasn’t merely reporting.

It was narrative construction.

A Warning That Went Nowhere

A few weeks earlier I had attended a presentation by an Israeli military information officer. His job involved working with foreign journalists and explaining the security realities facing northern Israel.

I contacted him afterward.

I shared screenshots and examples of what I was seeing online. My concern was not that a single article was inaccurate. Every news organization makes mistakes.

My concern was that an organized effort appeared to be underway to shape perceptions through repetition and amplification.

Perhaps I should have followed up more aggressively.

If this had been a sales opportunity, I would have called. I would have emailed. I would have persisted until I received a clear answer.

Instead, I assumed someone else would take responsibility.

Looking back, that assumption may have been naïve.

The Battlefield Moves to the Smartphone

The lesson I took away from that experience is one that has only become more obvious over time.

Wars are no longer fought exclusively on physical battlefields.

They are fought on digital ones.

For most of human history, geography determined influence. Governments controlled newspapers, radio stations, and television networks. Information flowed through relatively centralized channels.

Today, every smartphone is a broadcasting station.

Every citizen is a publisher.

Every image, video clip, or headline has the potential to reach millions.

This transformation has changed the nature of power itself.

What Happened to Conversation?

My late wife and I used to enjoy spending evenings in bars and restaurants. We enjoyed conversation. We’d sit with friends or sometimes complete strangers and spend hours discussing politics, business, family, or whatever happened to be on people’s minds.

Something changed over the years.

At first it was subtle.

Then it became impossible to ignore.

The smartphones arrived.

People stopped looking around the room.

They stopped talking to one another.

Instead, they looked down.

Today, much of what people know about the world arrives through a personalized feed curated by algorithms they neither understand nor control.

Those algorithms reward engagement.

Outrage generates engagement.

Fear generates engagement.

Conflict generates engagement.

Nuance rarely does.

The result is an environment in which emotionally powerful narratives spread faster than careful analysis.

The Marketing Lesson Governments Missed

This matters because public opinion increasingly influences political decisions.

Governments may possess armies, but democracies ultimately depend upon public support. If enough people come to believe a particular story, politicians eventually respond to that belief regardless of whether the underlying facts are complete.

This is where I believe many governments—including Israel’s—have struggled.

Military organizations naturally focus on military threats.

They count missiles, tanks, aircraft, and soldiers.

Information campaigns are harder to measure.

There is no radar screen showing the gradual erosion of public opinion.

There is no warning siren when millions of people absorb a distorted version of events.

By the time leaders recognize the problem, the narrative may already be entrenched.

The challenge is not unique to Israel.

The same forces influence elections, social movements, public health debates, financial markets, and international relations.

We are all living inside information ecosystems that constantly compete for our attention.

The winners are not necessarily those with the strongest facts.

Often they are simply those who understand distribution better.

As someone who spent much of his professional life in marketing, I find this difficult to ignore.

Businesses learned long ago that a superior product is not enough.

If nobody hears your message, your product may fail regardless of its quality.

Nations face a similar challenge.

Military strength matters.

Economic strength matters.

Scientific achievement matters.

But in an age dominated by social media, perception matters as well.

Perhaps more than many leaders would like to admit.

Winning Battles and Losing the Story

I don’t pretend to have easy answers.

The problem is enormous.

Technology evolves faster than institutions. Artificial intelligence is making content creation cheaper and more scalable than ever before. The ability to manufacture persuasive narratives continues to improve.

What I do know is this:

The battlefield has changed.

Many people still believe wars are decided primarily by bombs and bullets.

Increasingly, they are also decided by stories.

Stories determine what people believe.

Beliefs influence elections.

Elections influence governments.

Governments influence history.

The side that understands this reality gains an enormous advantage.

Whether Israel, the United States, Europe, or any other democracy is prepared for that challenge remains an open question.

But the challenge itself is no longer open to debate.

It’s already here.

And every time we unlock our phones, we step onto the battlefield.

The post The War Israel is Losing first appeared on Markets & Power.

If you have time before the Seder, it’s worth reading. Maybe even printing it out and bringing it to your table. (link below)

Because this year, something is different.

For somewhere between 1,500 and 2,000 years, we as a people have gathered with our families and read the Haggadah. We’ve told a story about what happened to us—long ago, in another land, under another empire.

And every year, we sing Dayenu.

We thank God for a sequence of miracles: if He had taken us out of Egypt but not split the sea—Dayenu. If He had split the sea but not given us the Torah—Dayenu.

It’s a song about memory. About gratitude for a past we did not personally witness.

But this year, that framework feels… incomplete.

Because this year, many of us have seen things with our own eyes that belong in that same category.

The Moment I Didn’t Understand

A little over two years ago—just after October 7—I was sitting on the Jerusalem light rail.

The train was filled with young soldiers.

Boys and girls, really.

They didn’t look like warriors. They looked like kids who had grown up in a modern country—comfortable, protected, soft in the way that people become when life has not yet demanded something terrible from them.

And I had a thought that, at the time, felt almost shameful:

How are they going to do this?

How are these young people going to stand in front of an enemy that could walk into neighborhoods, into homes, into a music festival, and do what was done?

How do you face that?

How do you not break?

And Then They Did

What I didn’t understand then—but understand now—is that I was asking the wrong question.

Because the question was never whether they looked capable.

The question was whether they would become capable.

And they have.

They have acted with courage that cannot be faked. With discipline that cannot be improvised. With a willingness to go toward danger rather than away from it.

They have fought. They have endured. They have carried things that no one should have to carry.

And through their strength—and their sacrifice—we are not just surviving.

We are pushing back.

Dayenu, Updated

The document I’m sharing does something simple and profound.

It takes the structure of Dayenu—this ancient song of gratitude—and applies it to the events we are living through right now.

It says:

If we had only seen the nation unite in a moment of crisis—Dayenu.

If we had only merited soldiers who stood with strength and refused to break—Dayenu.

If we had only witnessed the unraveling of enemies who seemed untouchable—Dayenu.

Line after line, it catalogs what we have lived through: unity, resilience, unexpected reversals, survival against predictions of catastrophe.

Not as politics.

Not as analysis.

As gratitude.

This Is the Part We Usually Skip

There’s a line in the document that struck me.

It says, in essence, that recognizing the greatness of these events does not erase the pain—but it makes it possible to stand up inside of it.

That’s the part we don’t talk about enough.

Because it’s uncomfortable.

We don’t want to call anything a miracle while people are still hurting. While families are still grieving. While the outcome is not yet fully known.

It feels almost inappropriate.

And yet—that discomfort may be the point.

Because Dayenu was never a song about a pain-free redemption.

It was a song about recognizing meaning inside an incomplete process.

We Are Not Just Remembering

At the Seder, we say:

“In every generation, a person is obligated to see himself as if he personally left Egypt.”

For most of my life, that felt like an exercise in imagination.

A useful one. A meaningful one.

But still—an act of imagination.

This year, it feels different.

This year, we are not just remembering a story of redemption.

We are inside one.

Not at the end of it.

Not with clarity.

Not without cost.

But inside it.

The Shift

And that changes something fundamental.

Because when redemption is only in the past, gratitude is easy.

When redemption is happening in real time—messy, painful, incomplete—gratitude becomes a choice.

A discipline.

Almost an act of defiance.

To say: Dayenu—this alone would have been enough—even now, even here, even with everything that is not yet resolved.

What I’ll Be Thinking About at the Seder

This year, when we get to Dayenu, I don’t think I’ll be thinking about Egypt.

Or at least—not only Egypt.

I’ll be thinking about that train.

About those young soldiers.

About how wrong I was.

And about how, somehow, they became exactly what was needed.

And I’ll be thinking about the strange, uncomfortable, undeniable feeling that we are witnessing something that future generations will read about the way we read the Haggadah.

And maybe that’s the real shift.

Not that the story has changed.

But that, for a moment, we are no longer just the ones who tell it.

We are the ones living it.

The post This Year, Dayenu Is Not a Story first appeared on Markets & Power.

It’s a simple scene: cranes, crews, new pathways taking shape, neighborhoods expanding, access opening to fields filled with wildflowers and salt ponds.

But what struck me wasn’t the construction itself.

It was what it represents.

This is not a temporary country.

It’s not an experiment.

It’s a long-term project—being built deliberately, continuously, and with the assumption that it will exist and thrive for generations.

And that, I believe, is one of the most important things many of Israel’s adversaries fail to fully grasp.

The Difference Between Short-Term Tactics and Long-Term Reality

There is a tendency in conflict—on all sides—to interpret events tactically.

A successful attack.
A political win.
A headline.
A symbolic moment.

These can feel like victories.

But they don’t necessarily change the underlying trajectory.

Israel operates on a different timeline.

• Infrastructure is being built
• Cities are expanding
• Systems are improving
• Institutions are strengthening

These are not the actions of a society preparing to disappear.

They are the actions of a society planning to endure.

History Isn’t the Headline—It’s the Trend Line

One of the biggest mistakes people make is confusing current events with historical direction.

News cycles amplify moments.

History measures patterns.

Over decades, the pattern in Israel is clear:

• Growth
• Resilience
• Adaptation
• Increasing capability

Even after major setbacks, the long-term direction has remained consistent.

That matters more than any single event.

Conflict Has Consequences—For Everyone

War is destructive. That’s obvious.

And no serious person celebrates destruction.

But conflict also produces outcomes that shape future behavior.

When violence is used as a strategy, it doesn’t just create immediate damage—it triggers responses that often reshape the balance of power over time.

That’s not unique to this region. It’s a universal principle.

A Path That Still Exists

There is still a path forward.

Israel has demonstrated repeatedly that it can live alongside neighbors peacefully—when those neighbors choose stability over conflict.

But coexistence depends on one critical factor:

A shared commitment to reducing violence rather than escalating it.

Without that, the cycle continues.

The Reality That Can’t Be Ignored

Look at what is being built.

Look at the investment in the future.

Look at the assumption—deeply embedded—that this country is here to stay.

That is the reality.

Any strategy that ignores it is built on a flawed premise.

Final Thought

This isn’t about emotion.

It’s about understanding trajectory.

In the long run, the side that builds—consistently, deliberately, and with a generational mindset—tends to outlast the side that focuses only on immediate confrontation.

That’s the difference.

And it’s one that matters.

If you’re interested in how long-term thinking and structured systems drive results—not just in geopolitics, but in business—I write about that here.

And if you’re building a company and struggling to hire salespeople who actually perform, we should talk.

The post The One Thing Many of Israel’s Adversaries Misunderstand first appeared on Markets & Power.

That conversation is over.

We are no longer talking about software that helps salespeople move a little quicker. We are talking about systems that now perform large parts of sales work on their own — research, drafting, analysis, follow-up, reporting.

This shift is not theoretical. It is already happening.

If you run a business, you can see it. One capable rep, using AI well, can now do work that once required two or three people. Research that took hours now takes minutes. Follow-ups run automatically. Proposals draft themselves. Pipeline summaries appear instantly.

Sales is not disappearing. But the labor behind it is shrinking.

When labor shrinks, team structure changes.

What AI Is Actually Changing

AI is not replacing persuasion. It is replacing preparation.

Look at how most salespeople spend their time:

• Researching prospects
• Writing outreach
• Customizing proposals
• Updating CRM records
• Drafting follow-ups
• Preparing reports
• Reviewing call notes

Very little of this is actual selling. It is preparation.

When preparation becomes automated, productivity rises. A smaller team can carry the same revenue target.

The End of the Middle

Most sales teams follow a pattern:

• A few top producers.
• A few weak performers.
• A large middle group.

The middle is competent but not exceptional. In large teams, they survive.

AI changes that balance. Top performers who use AI become far more productive. The middle gets squeezed.

In a ten-person team, one weak hire is tolerable. In a three-person team, one weak hire is destabilizing.

Why Hiring Errors Now Hurt More

In the past, companies absorbed hiring mistakes. Hire eight. Keep three. Move on.

That cushion is disappearing.

A bad hire now costs more than salary. It costs momentum. It costs pipeline coverage. It costs management focus.

The Limits of AI in Hiring

AI can help with screening. It can summarize interviews. It can compare resumes.

But hiring is not only about patterns.

The traits that define strong salespeople are harder to measure:

• Hunger.
• Resilience.
• Ownership.
• Competitive drive.
• Judgment under pressure.

AI can support hiring. It cannot take responsibility for it.

The New Salesperson

The future salesperson looks different.

• Initiative.
• Comfort with technology.
• Data awareness.
• Emotional toughness.
• A willingness to use AI daily.

This is not about removing jobs. It is about raising standards.

What Founders Must Change

Hire for leverage, not volume.

Evaluate thinking, not just personality.

Keep teams smaller and sharper.

AI makes lean teams possible. Leadership must make them work.

Closing

Every major shift removes the comfortable middle.

AI is doing that now.

Sales will survive. But the margin for average performance is narrowing.

The compression has started.

The only real question is whether you will hire as if it has.

The post Hiring Salespeople in the Age of AI: Fewer Reps. Higher Stakes. first appeared on Markets & Power.

Jewish Covenant and Buddhist Awakening Solve Different Problems

I went to Thailand for the first time in March of this year. I had planned to stay two weeks. An Iranian ballistic missile attack closed Israel’s airport, and I stayed four.

One of the first things I did was accompany my friend Ao to shrines in Pattaya. One day we visited a shrine to the King—Buddha statues included. The next day we visited a shrine dedicated to the Buddha himself.

When I told Ao I was Jewish and that I attend synagogue—there is one in Pattaya—she smiled and said, “Same, same. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Thank you.”

That response captures something essential about Buddhism. The question of what you call God, or what characteristics you assign to God, is secondary. What matters is that you acknowledge something larger than yourself. In much of Thai Buddhism, reverence matters more than theological precision.

But here is the key distinction: the Buddha is not a god. He does not claim divinity. Buddhism does not rest on revelation. Buddha represents human potential—the capacity to reduce suffering by understanding the mechanics of the mind.

And if someone says they do not suffer, I don’t believe them. We all suffer. The same way people did 2,500 years ago. I want what I do not have. I have what I do not want. I cling. I resist. I replay.

Buddhism diagnoses this precisely: thought runs nonstop. Unless you observe it, it governs you.

The prescription is almost insultingly simple:

• Watch your breath.
• Notice sensation.
• See how thought arises.

Breathing is basic—meaningless in one sense and absolutely essential in another. By returning to it, you strip experience down to its lowest function. You learn, firsthand, how much of your suffering is manufactured by preference: getting your way and not getting your way.

Monks take this seriously. Some renounce everything to contemplate it full-time. The rest of us—with businesses to run and families depending on us—attempt a hybrid model. We work. We build. We disappoint and are disappointed. But we try to remember: much of our distress is the consequence of choices and interpretations layered onto raw experience.

Thailand as a Civic Expression of the “Middle Way”

Thailand itself reflects the tension between contemplation and public life. The country was known as Siam until 1939 (briefly reverting before permanently adopting “Thailand” in 1949). The Chakri dynasty has ruled since 1782.

During the Asian Financial Crisis (1997), King Bhumibol Adulyadej articulated what became known as the “Sufficiency Economy” philosophy—essentially a nationalized version of the Buddhist middle way: neither reckless excess nor destabilizing poverty. It wasn’t mystical language. It was pragmatic restraint.

That is Buddhism scaled to a society: moderation, awareness, equilibrium.

Judaism: A Public Covenant Built to Shape History

Now contrast that with Judaism.

Judaism is not primarily about watching your thoughts. It is about shaping history.

It begins with Abraham and Sarah, becomes a nation through slavery and exodus, and is structured under law through Moses. A family becomes a covenantal people.

The Jewish formula—stated plainly—is this:

If we align ourselves with divine law, individually and collectively, blessing follows.

This is not merely private morality. It is national destiny. God responds not just to individuals but to a people. A public covenant implies public consequences.

Prayer as Discipline of Speech

Prayer reflects that orientation. The Amidah (often ~1,000 words depending on the day) is recited three times daily. The Shema (~245 words) is recited twice daily. Structured, defined, repeated.

Judaism disciplines speech. Buddhism disciplines silence.

Belonging: Ancestry and Commitment

Jewish identity combines ancestry and commitment. Priestly families (Kohanim) trace lineage back to Aaron, brother of Moses, and genetic studies have identified common markers among many self-identified Kohanim consistent with shared ancient ancestry.

But Judaism is not closed; conversion is possible. What is required is commitment to the covenant—not merely DNA.

The Uncomfortable Data Point

This covenantal model has produced measurable historical effects. Jews represent roughly 0.2% of the global population, yet have received approximately 20–22% of Nobel Prizes awarded since 1901.¹²

That does not prove divine favoritism. It does suggest that a culture built on literacy, argument, textual study, and multi-generational continuity produces results.

But power—intellectual or otherwise—requires stewardship. A public covenant without ethical leadership becomes dangerous. If a people believes itself specially aligned with blessing, its leaders must be especially disciplined. Otherwise, covenant devolves into entitlement.

Different Problems. Different Failure Modes.

Judaism’s risk is public power without private humility.

Buddhism’s risk is private serenity without civic responsibility.

Neither tradition is “the same.” They don’t even target the same layer of human life. One builds institutions; the other dismantles illusion. One aims at history; the other aims at experience.

Closing

Most people want the benefits of both without the discipline of either.

They want covenant without obligation.
They want enlightenment without sitting still.

Judaism will not bless indifference.
Buddhism will not reward distraction.

History punishes sloppy thinking.
So does your own mind.

Decide which battlefield you are fighting on.

Then train accordingly.

Footnotes

¹ World population estimates: United Nations, World Population Prospects; Jewish population estimates: Pew Research Center, The Future of the Global Jewish Population.

² Nobel Prize data: Nobel Prize (Nobel Foundation) official laureate statistics and public records (nobelprize.org); demographic analyses compiled from those records.

The post Spirituality: Public Covenant or Private Awakening? first appeared on Markets & Power.

Editor’s Note: This essay is a personal reflection, not an endorsement or recommendation. LSD is illegal in many jurisdictions and carries significant psychological and physical risks. The purpose of this piece is to examine thinking, not to promote altered states.

Most people think of LSD as a shortcut to insight or transcendence. My experience was different.

What LSD revealed to me was not hidden truths about reality, but something far more ordinary—and far more dangerous: how the human mind manufactures thoughts, attaches emotion to them, and then mistakes those thoughts for truth.

Under the influence, this process becomes impossible to ignore. Thoughts arise rapidly, connect themselves into emotional chains, and reinforce one another. Sad thoughts generate more sadness. Euphoric thoughts generate more euphoria. The mind, left unchecked, becomes self-confirming.

This can feel profound. It can also become destabilizing.

Over time, I came to understand that LSD is not a doorway to reality, but a powerful lens that exaggerates what is already happening in every human mind. It can illuminate how thinking works—but without grounding, perspective, and restraint, that illumination carries real psychological and physical risk.

What follows is not an endorsement of LSD. It is a reflection on what it taught me about thinking, impermanence, emotional extremes, and the danger of believing thoughts simply because they feel true.

LSD and the Mechanics of Thought

One of the most valuable insights LSD offered me was a direct encounter with the process of thought creation. Buddhist meditation emphasizes that thoughts are continuously arising phenomena. When we fail to notice this, we tend to treat every thought as real, authoritative, and true.

Under LSD, that process becomes unavoidable. Thoughts multiply quickly, and the mind’s tendency to chain one thought into the next becomes intensified.

Emotional Feedback Loops: Euphoria, Sadness, and Distortion

On LSD, emotional momentum is real. A thought with a strong emotional tone often pulls the next thought into the same direction:

• Sad thoughts generate further sadness.
• Euphoric thoughts generate further euphoria.

The mind can become self-reinforcing. This amplification is powerful—and potentially hazardous.

The Middle Path and Realistic Thinking

Euphoria is pleasurable. Sadness is displeasurable. But neither state is especially useful for clear thinking.

When the mind moves too far toward either extreme, realism fades. Euphoric thinking feels important but can lose grounding. Sad thinking feels true but can become distorted by despair.

The most productive mental space—the one closest to reality—is what Buddhism calls the Middle Path. From this position, thoughts can be observed rather than believed.

Impermanence and the Illusion of Awakening

Another critical realization is that the LSD state is temporary. It is not a new permanent awareness. It is a drug-induced physiological condition that ends when the substance leaves the body.

Failing to recognize this impermanence is one of the major risks. Believing that one has achieved a permanent awakening can distort judgment and identity long after the experience ends.

Psychological and Physical Risks

It would be irresponsible to discuss LSD without emphasizing risks.

• Psychological risk: The experience can destabilize thinking and, for some people, lead to lasting harm.
• Situational danger: Impaired judgment can result in fatal decisions. Being alone, in unfamiliar places, without trusted support increases risk.
• The illusion of insight: A drug-induced state can feel like “truth.” That feeling is not proof.
• Legal consequences: LSD is illegal in many jurisdictions, and illegality carries real outcomes.

Personal Context and What Stayed With Me

When I was a student in the 1970s, LSD became mainstream in some environments. We were warned about chromosomal damage—warnings that later proved unfounded in my case. I went on to father four healthy children.

At one stage, I was taking LSD three times a week. I rationalized the risk by noticing high-performing peers using it as well. In hindsight, academic success was never evidence of safety.

I also learned how much set and setting matters. Taking LSD in unfamiliar environments, without friends around, put me in danger. In one instance I was alone, and my thinking turned sad. I had to keep reminding myself the drug would leave my system. It was not pleasant.

Despite the risks, the experience left me with a lasting curiosity about human existence and a sharper appreciation of how thoughts form—and how easily they can masquerade as truth.

Writers such as Sam Harris have discussed altered states as a way to recognize that thoughts are mental events, not necessarily reality. On that narrow point, my experience aligns.

Closing Perspective

LSD did not show me reality more clearly. It showed me how persuasive and self-reinforcing the thinking mind can become when it is untethered.

That lesson—learned with real risk attached—has lasted far longer than any trip.

Thinking Clearly (Series): This essay is part of Thinking Clearly—reflections on belief, cognition, and the habits of mind that quietly shape our lives. Read the series hub here: Thinking Clearly.

Subscribe: If you’d like to receive future essays, subscribe here: Subscribe.

Related: My review and notes on Sam Harris

The post What LSD Taught Me About Thinking first appeared on Markets & Power.

Framing Question

Is it possible to experience spiritual depth without believing anything false?

This is the wager at the heart of Waking Up. Sam Harris is not attempting to rescue religion, nor dismiss spirituality as delusion. He is attempting something more ambitious: to separate mystical experience from religious belief, and to argue that one can survive—perhaps even flourish—without the other.

The Core Thesis

Harris’ central claim is both simple and radical:

Spiritual experiences are real psychological events, but religious doctrines are unnecessary—and often harmful—interpretations of those events.

Consciousness, he argues, can be explored directly through meditation, disciplined attention, and altered states without metaphysical commitments to gods, souls, or dogma. The self, upon inspection, dissolves.

This is not a book about belief. It is a book about attention.

Why This Book Matters Now

Waking Up sits at the intersection of three modern failures:

• The collapse of religious authority
• The rise of therapeutic, consumer spirituality
• A culture addicted to distraction

Many people have lost faith in religion but still feel that something essential is missing. Harris offers a solution: keep the experience, discard the stories.

Argument Map

1. The sense of self feels real
2. Close attention reveals it is constructed
3. Meditation exposes this illusion
4. Seeing clearly produces psychological freedom
5. Religion adds unnecessary mythology

Where Harris Is Right

1. The Illusion of the Self

The book’s strongest chapters dismantle the intuition that there is a stable “I” behind experience. Drawing from neuroscience and Buddhist practice, Harris shows the self to be a narrative overlay—useful, but not fundamental.

2. Intellectual Honesty

Unlike most spiritual writers, Harris refuses to soften conclusions for comfort. If something cannot be defended rationally, it is discarded.

3. Meditation as a Skill

Meditation is treated as trainable attention, not moral virtue or spiritual identity. This alone distinguishes the book from most mindfulness literature.

Where the Book Is Weak

1. Cultural Reductionism

Religious traditions are often treated as mere delivery systems for mystical states, minimizing their ethical and communal roles.

2. Elitist Accessibility

The path Harris outlines—silent retreats, disciplined introspection, altered states—is not equally accessible to all.

3. Moral Underspecification

If the self is an illusion, why should obligation or responsibility survive? Harris gestures toward compassion, but does not fully ground it.

Comparative Context

Who Should Read This Book

Read it if you:

• Are skeptical of religion but drawn to meditation
• Value clarity over comfort
• Want spirituality without superstition

Avoid it if you:

• See religion primarily as communal or moral infrastructure
• Prefer poetry to precision

Verdict

Waking Up is not a comforting book. It is a clarifying one.

Harris succeeds in carving out a narrow but defensible territory: a spirituality grounded in experience, stripped of belief, and disciplined by reason. Whether this is sufficient to sustain meaning over a lifetime remains an open question—but the experiment is worth engaging.

This is not a book that tells you what to believe. It tells you where to look.

FAQ

What is Waking Up about?

A rational exploration of spirituality, meditation, and consciousness without religious belief.

Is Waking Up anti-religion?

It is critical of religious doctrine, but sympathetic to mystical experience.

Is the book worth reading?

Yes—especially for readers interested in mindfulness, philosophy of mind, and secular ethics.

The post Waking Up by Sam Harris — A Rational Case for Spirituality Without Religion first appeared on Markets & Power.

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Should Lawmakers Be Allowed to Beat the Market They Regulate?

Legality is not the same as legitimacy. The central question raised by congressional investing is not whether a specific trade can be proven criminal—it is whether the rules produce a system citizens can reasonably trust.

The Legal Baseline

Members of Congress may hold and trade financial assets, subject to disclosure requirements and laws prohibiting insider trading. The gray zone is that many advantages in politics are structural rather than transactional: access to priorities, policy direction, and timing can exist without a single “insider tip.”

The Pelosi Question

The Pelosi household is frequently cited because the returns are widely described as unusually strong and because the household’s investing activity is discussed alongside periods of high legislative influence. Even if every trade is lawful, the optics are troubling: when lawmakers can influence budgets, regulation, and industrial policy, personal exposure to those outcomes looks like a conflict of interest.

Why Buffett Matters Here

Buffett is relevant not because he is the only benchmark, but because he demonstrates that extraordinary returns can be earned without political proximity. That makes a simple ethical point: if markets are meant to be fair, political power should not function like an investable advantage.

Trump, Crypto, and a Different Ethical Risk

Trump’s activity around media and crypto highlights a separate problem: when politicians become sponsors or promoters of assets that can be affected by policy, the risk is future favoritism and eroded credibility. Even if nothing improper occurs, the perception of policy‑for‑profit can damage trust in institutions.¹

Policy Reform Options

• Blind trusts for senior lawmakers and executive officials
• Restrictions on individual stock trading (permitting diversified funds/ETFs only)
• Shorter disclosure windows and standardized reporting that reduces ambiguity
• Independent enforcement with real penalties for noncompliance

Conclusion

This is not a partisan issue. It is a governance issue. Markets rely on trust; democracies rely on legitimacy. When citizens believe lawmakers can profit from decisions they control, both systems weaken.

Footnotes

1. Crypto policy and enforcement spans multiple agencies and administrations; ethical risk arises when policymakers have direct exposure to policy outcomes.

The post The Ethics of Congressional Investing: Should Lawmakers Be Allowed to Beat the Market They Regulate? (Ethics) first appeared on Markets & Power.

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Donald Trump, Nancy Pelosi, and Warren Buffett: Who Really Beat the Market?

Over the last decade, few investing stories have raised more eyebrows than the reported performance of Nancy Pelosi’s household portfolio.

Based on publicly available financial disclosures and widely circulated third‑party analyses, the Pelosi family’s reported ten‑year return has been estimated at approximately 816%, compared with roughly 282% over a similar span for Warren Buffett’s Berkshire Hathaway, and far below that for Donald Trump’s reported wealth growth (often estimated in the 20–40% range depending on valuation assumptions).¹²³

These aren’t apples‑to‑apples numbers—each reflects different vehicles, risks, and (in the case of net worth estimates) uncertain valuation. Still, the magnitude of the gap raises a practical question: what explains outperformance that large?

Buffett: Disciplined, Fundamentals‑Driven Value Investing

Buffett’s philosophy is well known: buy great businesses at sensible prices and hold them while cash flows compound. Berkshire’s long‑term record is rooted in durable operating companies and equity stakes chosen for fundamental strength, not short‑term catalysts or political timing.²

Trump: Entrepreneurship, Media, and High‑Variance Assets

Trump’s recent wealth narrative is more entrepreneurial than portfolio‑driven. His most prominent modern asset is tied to media and branding, including Trump Media & Technology Group and its platform, Truth Social—built after he lost access to major distribution channels on large social platforms.⁴

He has also moved into the cryptocurrency ecosystem in various forms. Crypto valuations are volatile and can be affected by policy; however, attributing causal regulatory “benefits” to specific private holdings from public information is typically difficult and often speculative.⁵

Pelosi: Equity Performance That Demands Context

The Pelosi household’s investments—often attributed to trades made by Paul Pelosi through family accounts—have been associated with public equities, including exposure to technology‑linked themes that later benefited from legislative initiatives and federal spending (for example, semiconductors and infrastructure‑adjacent activity).⁶⁷

Infographic: 10‑Year Comparative Returns (Approximate)

What This Sets Up

Even if the performance numbers are directionally correct, performance isn’t the real story. The real story is whether lawmakers should be allowed to participate in markets they help shape. That is the focus of Part II.

Footnotes

1. House financial disclosure reporting provides holdings/transaction disclosures but often in ranges; third‑party “return” calculations can differ by methodology.
2. Berkshire Hathaway annual reports provide performance context and shareholder letter commentary.
3. Trump net worth changes are commonly reported by major business publications and are sensitive to assumptions and illiquid asset valuation.
4. SEC filings for Trump Media & Technology Group describe the business and ownership structure.
5. U.S. Treasury/SEC policy and enforcement affect crypto broadly; attributing benefits to specific private holdings is typically difficult from public data.
6. The Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act (2021) expanded federal infrastructure spending.
7. The CHIPS and Science Act (2022) provided incentives and funding for semiconductor manufacturing and research.

The post Nancy Pelosi vs Donald Trump vs Warren Buffett: Who Really Beat the Market? (Performance) first appeared on Markets & Power.

At a glance

• Book: The Snowball: Warren Buffett and the Business of Life (Alice Schroeder)
• Genre: Biography / investing history
• Who it’s for: Investors, operators, and anyone building a long-horizon career
• One-line take: The book is less about stock-picking “secrets” and more about how temperament, incentives, and reputation compound into optionality.

The “five bullet points + one fun fact” summary

My summary of The Snowball in five bullet points and one fun fact:

• Compounding is the headline—but the real engine is a mix of skill, structure, and temperament working together.
• Buffett’s early partnerships matter because they show how incentives and deal terms can accelerate learning and performance.
• The “Inner Scorecard” is not a slogan; it’s a practical immunity to crowd opinion that protects decision quality under pressure.
• Reputation is a form of capital that expands opportunity set—especially when your time horizon is decades, not quarters.
• Life and work are intertwined: relationships, routines, and priorities show up in the investing record (and vice versa).
• Fun fact: The book literally opens with a child rolling a snowball—an image that becomes a surprisingly precise metaphor for how small advantages stack into something enormous.

What the book is really about (my interpretation)

There are two common ways people read a Buffett biography:

• As a treasure hunt for stock ideas and “the secret sauce.”
• As an operating manual for building a career that compounds.

The Snowball rewards the second approach. It’s full of investing detail, but the deeper lesson is about durable decision-making: how you choose what matters, how you stay calm when the crowd is ecstatic (or hostile), and how you construct incentives so you don’t sabotage yourself.

1) Compounding, shown plainly

One passage in the early partnership years illustrates the point in numbers: a hypothetical $1,000 invested in the Buffett Fund is described as growing to $2,407 over four years, versus $1,426 for the Dow (with dividends). The point isn’t to idolize the number—it’s to notice the shape of the curve once you start stacking modest edges.

Two observations worth keeping:

• Repeated small wins beat occasional big wins—because the base keeps getting larger.
• Risk discipline matters—because avoiding large drawdowns protects the compounding engine.

2) The Inner Scorecard: the anti-fragile mindset

In the late 1990s, the tech bubble made Buffett look “wrong.” The book describes a year where the NASDAQ surged, the Dow rose, and Berkshire lagged. This is where the “Inner Scorecard” shows up as an operating principle: your process has to be stable even when your scoreboard is not.

“The big question about how people behave is whether they’ve got an Inner Scorecard or an Outer Scorecard.”

I read this as a decision filter:

• If the audience disappeared, would you still do it?
• If nobody could see your results for five years, would you choose the same strategy?
• If you were judged only by process quality, what would you change this week?

3) A reusable model: the Snowball loop

Here is the most useful thing I pulled from the biography: a simple loop that explains how “small edges” become a snowball.

4) Practical takeaways (checklist)

If you want the book’s lessons without the hero worship, use this checklist:

• Protect your downside: eliminate failure modes that permanently shrink your base (bad leverage, reputation landmines, brittle partnerships).
• Engineer incentives: align fees, compensation, and roles so “doing the right thing” is the easiest thing.
• Choose a time horizon: the longer your horizon, the fewer competitors you have—if you can actually tolerate it.
• Build an Inner Scorecard: define what “good work” means before the world tells you what it means.
• Compound trust: keep promises, simplify communication, and prioritize clarity—trust widens your opportunity set.

Favorite moments

Three moments that stuck with me:

• The opening snowball metaphor—small moves, repeated, turning into momentum.
• The partnership years: lots of work, lots of letters, lots of disciplined “unsexy” effort.
• The Inner Scorecard framing: a clean explanation of independence without posturing.

SEO notes (for readers and search)

Related topics: Warren Buffett biography, compounding, value investing, temperament, reputation capital, Berkshire Hathaway, investing psychology.

References

Schroeder, Alice. The Snowball: Warren Buffett and the Business of Life. Bantam Books.

The post Book Review: The Snowball (Alice Schroeder) — Warren Buffett and the Business of Life first appeared on Markets & Power.