MEMORANDUM OF MISUNDERSTANDING

There is something wonderfully reassuring about the phrase “Memorandum of Understanding.” It sounds sober and civilized. “Memorandum” conveys confidence — it is official, it is serious. And “understanding” — surely that is what we all want: to reach an understanding about how things will unfold going forward.

Of course, no one signs a Memorandum of Understanding while admitting that the understanding may be rather thin. No one says, “We signed this because we can’t agree on anything substantive, and we needed to sign something.” Instead, everyone celebrates the signatures on a document that may carry little weight and almost no practical application.

That is what makes this week’s U.S.–Iran MoU so unsettling. According to the U.S. administration’s MoU cheerleaders, the signed agreement is meant to end the four-month-old conflict, reopen the Strait of Hormuz, and create a sixty-day window for broader negotiations that will result in a clear end to Iran’s nuclear ambitions.

The Strait is important. It is one of the world’s vital maritime chokepoints, carrying a huge share of global energy supplies. The Iranian takeover of this critical waterway has caused global havoc. Under the reported terms, Iran will reopen the strait immediately and without tolls, and the United States will lift its naval blockade. Shipping is meant to return to pre-war levels within thirty days. The document’s cheerleaders trumpet this as a brilliant diplomatic achievement.

But the 14-point agreement contains much else, all of it in polished language, much of it masking breathtaking concessions to the world’s most evil regime. The ceasefire will last sixty days, and includes Lebanon.

Seeing as there are no U.S. soldiers in Lebanon, that must mean the ceasefire applies to Israel’s soldiers stationed there to prevent Hezbollah from attacking northern Israel. But Israel is not a signatory to this agreement, and has no desire nor any intention of withdrawing from its current military positions.

There is talk of sanctions relief tied to compliance, temporary oil-sale waivers, access to frozen funds, and nuclear negotiations. Iran has reportedly committed never to acquire a nuclear weapon and to address its enriched uranium stockpile — although it has made that commitment before and not kept it.

If all of this were real, it would be a great achievement. None of us pray for war or wish for violence. We pray constantly for peace. But precisely because peace is precious, the language of peace must not become a sedative.

A signature is not a transformation. And a document that leaves the tough stuff for later is not a serious commitment. Often, the most important parts of any diplomatic document are not what is in it, but what it leaves out.

What exactly has Iran given up? What will happen to its enriched uranium? Who will verify compliance? What penalties follow a violation? Is sanctions relief reversible, or does it create its own momentum? What about Hezbollah, the Houthis, and the wider network Iran built precisely so it can wage war while denying responsibility? And what about Israel, whose security is not an incidental detail in this saga?

To be clear, these are not warmonger questions. They are moral questions, asked by people who have learned that hostile regimes often use diplomatic processes to delay accountability and purchase time. As President Trump himself said in January 2020, “Iran never won a war, but never lost a negotiation!”

Even now, Iran is gleefully celebrating its victory against the United States in negotiations that resulted in this MoU. And so the question is not whether the words “peace” and “end of hostilities” sound good. Of course they sound good. They were written to sound good. The question is whether the words match reality.

I was struck by the similarity between Iran’s duplicity — its public claims versus its real intentions — and the biblical villain Korach. A cousin of Moses and Aaron, Korach does not announce his jealousy of Moses or his resentment of Aaron. He does not say, “I want power.” That would be too crude.

Korach understands the power of elevated language. Instead, he says something magnificent (Num. 16:3): רַב לָכֶם כִּי כָל הָעֵדָה כֻּלָּם קְדֹשִׁים וּבְתוֹכָם ה׳ וּמַדּוּעַ תִּתְנַשְּׂאוּ עַל קְהַל ה׳ — “You have gone too far! For the entire congregation is holy, and God is among them. Why, then, do you raise yourselves above the congregation of God?”

It is brilliant. The people are holy. God is among them. Let them all have a role to play, not just you. It sounds democratic, saintly, and fair. If one heard it without context, one might think Korach was the hero.

But Moshe hears the words and falls on his face. He understands that the problem is not that every word is false. In reality, much of it is true. The congregation is holy. God is among them. Leaders must be humble.

The problem is that Korach is not interested in the people. He is interested in subverting the system and weakening it so that he can take advantage when everything falls apart. His wickedness is concealed by the beauty of his vocabulary and by the sentiment of his words.

The Torah uses this story to warn us against noble language in the mouths of evil rogues. Noble language divorced from truth is the weapon used by those who wish to fool everyone who values and treasures the ideas that uphold society and humanity.

Which is exactly why Korach remains so contemporary. Every generation has its own Korach, and every Korach knows which words will work. In one age he speaks of holiness. In another, equality. In another, national dignity, ceasefire, humanitarian relief, or economic stability. The vocabulary changes, but the method does not.

Not every foe is incapable of change, and not every diplomat is a fool. But the dangers of misjudging a situation because the words match your goals are very high.

The Torah does not tell us to distrust every noble phrase. But if the noble phrase is uttered by liars, be careful. If we could be sure that this memorandum would result in Iran’s proxies standing down and the full empowerment of international inspectors; if enriched uranium were neutralized under meaningful supervision; and if Israel and America’s allies were safer in sixty days than they are today, then the language of peace would mean something.

But does anyone truly believe that this is going to be the outcome? More likely, these are words said to gain the praise of those pushing to end the confrontation. And from Iran’s perspective, this MoU gives them time, money, legitimacy, sanctions relief, access to funds, and a diplomatic shield while leaving the machinery of threat intact.

Korach built his rebellion out of words that hovered above reality. Then the earth opened up beneath him. The message is unmistakable: false language may succeed for a while, but eventually reality asserts itself, and the evil will be vanquished.

We should certainly pray that the MoU is the beginning of something real. But prayer is not a substitute for discernment. Parshat Korach reminds us that the first duty of leadership is not to applaud noble words the moment they are spoken. It is to ask whether they are true.