March 21, 2025 Who are the most powerful Chabad Jews in Los Angeles? Luke Ford No sacred cows.

Who are the most powerful Chabad Jews in Los Angeles?

Posted on March 21, 2025 by Luke Ford

Grok says:

Rabbi Boruch Shlomo Cunin
Role: Director of Chabad of California and West Coast Chabad-Lubavitch.
Influence: Rabbi Cunin is the undisputed heavyweight of Chabad in Los Angeles and beyond. Sent by the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, to LA in 1965, he laid the groundwork for Chabad’s West Coast expansion. Under his leadership, Chabad of California has grown to oversee 79 centers statewide, with a dense concentration in LA, including major hubs like Bais Bezalel and the Westwood headquarters. His oversight of the annual Chabad Telethon, a multimillion-dollar fundraiser broadcast nationally, amplifies his clout, connecting him to Hollywood, political figures, and donors. Cunin’s strategic vision—replicating 770 Eastern Parkway in Pico-Robertson and pushing developments like the proposed mixed-use complex—shows his blend of spiritual and pragmatic power. At over 80, his tenure and family dynasty (many sons are shluchim) cement his status.
Context: His influence spans decades, making him a linchpin for Chabad’s growth from a small outpost to a regional powerhouse.
Rabbi Zushe Cunin
Role: Director of Chabad of Pacific Palisades and a key figure in Chabad’s LA network.
Influence: As Rabbi Boruch Cunin’s son, Zushe carries the family mantle into specific communities. His leadership during crises—like the January 2025 Palisades Fire, where he evacuated Chabad’s Early Childhood Center and coordinated community support—highlights his operational authority. Running a prominent center in an affluent area, he bridges Chabad’s grassroots outreach with LA’s elite, enhancing its social capital. His visibility in such events underscores his rising prominence within the next generation of Cunin leadership.
Context: His role exemplifies how Chabad’s influence often passes through family lines, maintaining continuity and loyalty.
Rabbi Joshua B. Gordon
Role: Former Executive Director of Chabad of the Valley (retired 2020, passed 2023), with his legacy carried by successors like Rabbi Yochonon Gordon.
Influence: Rabbi Joshua Gordon built Chabad of the Valley into one of LA’s largest Chabad networks, with over 20 centers serving 15,000 Jews across Encino, Tarzana, and beyond. His 40-year tenure established a model of community-building—synagogues, schools, mikvahs—that rivals Pico-Robertson’s density. Though he stepped down before his death, his son Yochonon and others sustain his vision, managing a $10 million headquarters opened in 2016. Joshua’s national role as a Chabad executive committee member tied LA to global Lubavitch strategy, amplifying his posthumous influence.
Context: The Valley’s Chabad network reflects his enduring footprint, showing how regional leaders can shape entire sub-regions.
Rabbi Mendel Schwartz
Role: Executive Director of the Chai Center and a leader in Chabad’s entertainment outreach.
Influence: Schwartz taps into LA’s unique Hollywood ecosystem, making Chabad a spiritual home for Jewish celebrities, producers, and industry figures. The Chai Center, founded by his father Rabbi Shlomo “Chuni” Schwartz in 1980, hosts high-profile events—think Shabbats with A-listers—and leverages the Telethon, where Mendel has been a fixture. His book From the Midwest to the Middle East and media presence extend his reach beyond traditional shul walls, blending Chabad’s mission with cultural relevance.
Context: His power lies in bridging Chabad’s Hasidic roots with LA’s secular elite, a niche that amplifies Chabad’s soft power.
Rabbi Dovid Levine
Role: Rabbi of Bais Bezalel Chabad in Pico-Robertson.
Influence: Levine oversees one of Pico-Robertson’s busiest centers, offering four daily minyans and serving as a communal hub in LA’s Orthodox epicenter. His leadership reflects Chabad’s ability to dominate even in a neighborhood packed with shuls (over 20). Bais Bezalel’s strategic location on Pico Boulevard and its replica of 770 Eastern Parkway symbolize Chabad’s physical and ideological imprint. Levine’s influence is more local but potent, anchoring Chabad’s street-level presence.
Context: He represents the shluchim who execute Chabad’s vision on the ground, sustaining its grassroots strength.
Broader Observations
Cunin Family Dynasty: Rabbi Boruch Cunin’s sons (e.g., Zushe, Sholom, Levi) run key centers, creating a familial power structure that ensures cohesion and loyalty. This mirrors the Rebbe’s model of trust in emissaries but centralizes influence in LA.
Institutional Reach: Chabad’s 40+ LA centers (e.g., Chabad of Mt. Olympus, Cheviot Hills, UCLA) are run by shluchim who report to Cunin’s umbrella organization, giving him unparalleled oversight.
Contrast with Non-Chabad Hasidim: Unlike Satmar or Bobov rebbes, whose power is dynastic and insular, Chabad leaders like Cunin and Schwartz engage outwardly, leveraging media, real estate, and politics (e.g., ties to figures like Jared Kushner nationally).
Community Size: Chabad likely serves 30,000–40,000 Jews in LA, dwarfing other Hasidic groups, with influence bolstered by schools (e.g., Bais Chaya Mushka) and developments.

Posted in Chabad, Los Angeles | Comments Off

A history of Hasidic Jews in Los Angeles outside of Chabad

Posted on March 21, 2025 by Luke Ford

Grok says:

The history of Hasidic Jews in Los Angeles outside of Chabad reflects a smaller but significant thread within the city’s broader Jewish tapestry, shaped by post-World War II migration, the growth of Orthodoxy, and the unique cultural dynamics of Southern California. While Chabad-Lubavitch has become the most visible Hasidic presence in LA due to its extensive outreach and institutional network, other Hasidic groups—rooted in Eastern European dynasties—have quietly established footholds, particularly since the mid-20th century. These communities, often more insular than Chabad, have focused on preserving their distinct traditions rather than engaging in widespread outreach, carving out niches in neighborhoods like Hancock Park, Fairfax, and Pico-Robertson.
The story begins in earnest after the Holocaust, when survivors from Hasidic dynasties such as Satmar, Bobov, Belz, and Vizhnitz—decimated in Europe—began trickling into the United States. Los Angeles, though not a primary destination like New York, attracted some of these families due to its growing Jewish population and economic opportunities. By the late 1960s, as Orthodox Jews increasingly settled in Hancock Park and adjacent areas, a nascent Hasidic presence emerged beyond Chabad’s orbit. Unlike Chabad, which arrived in LA in the 1960s under Rabbi Boruch Shlomo Cunin with a mission to engage unaffiliated Jews, these other Hasidic groups prioritized rebuilding their own communal structures—synagogues, yeshivas, and mikvahs—catering to their adherents rather than the broader Jewish public.
Hancock Park became a key hub, especially from the 1970s onward, as its large homes and proximity to existing Jewish infrastructure appealed to growing Hasidic families. Satmar, known for its strict anti-Zionist stance and rigorous adherence to tradition, established a small but tight-knit community here, distinct from Chabad’s more outward-facing approach. Bobov, with its emphasis on education and communal warmth, also took root, alongside Belz, Vizhnitz, and others like Karlin-Stolin and Klausenburg. These groups, while less numerous than Chabad, brought their own rebbes, customs, and Yiddish-speaking enclaves, creating pockets of Old World Hasidism amid LA’s sprawl. By the 1980s, the area—along with parts of Beverly-La Brea—housed a rapidly expanding Hasidic population, with dynasties represented in “strong number,” though exact figures are elusive due to their private nature.
Pico-Robertson, emerging as an Orthodox stronghold in the 1980s, also saw non-Chabad Hasidic influence, albeit on a smaller scale. While Chabad dominates with multiple centers (e.g., Bais Bezalel), synagogues like Adas Torah—founded in 2005—reflect a broader Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) ethos that includes Hasidic leanings, though not tied to a single dynasty. The neighborhood’s kosher infrastructure and walkable layout supported these communities, but their focus remained internal—prayer, study, and family life—rather than Chabad’s public-facing events like telethons or Mitzvah Tanks.
Educationally, non-Chabad Hasidic Jews in LA established institutions to sustain their traditions. Schools like Yeshiva Rav Isacsohn/Toras Emes in Hancock Park, founded decades ago, serve a Haredi population that includes Hasidic families, offering rigorous Torah study alongside secular education. Unlike Chabad’s Bais Chaya Mushka or Cheder Menachem, which emphasize Hassidic philosophy and outreach, these schools cater to a more insular clientele, often with Yiddish as a primary language. The Yeshiva Gedolah on Olympic Boulevard, housed in a former church, further supports advanced study for young men from these communities.
Culturally, these Hasidic groups stand apart from LA’s assimilated Jewish majority and even from Chabad’s modern adaptations. They maintain traditional dress—shtreimels or spodiks for men, modest attire for women—and adhere to dynastic leadership, with rebbes occasionally visiting from New York or Israel. Their growth, fueled by high birth rates and some migration, mirrors broader Haredi trends, though LA’s car-centric, spread-out geography has limited their concentration compared to Brooklyn’s dense shtetl-like enclaves. By 1990, estimates suggest around 5,000 Haredi families lived in LA’s Westside, a fraction of whom were non-Chabad Hasidim—a small but growing presence.
Today, as of March 21, 2025, these communities remain understated yet resilient, overshadowed by Chabad’s prominence but vital to LA’s Orthodox diversity. They’ve adapted to the city—driving to shul, shopping at kosher markets like Glatt Mart—but retain a distinct identity, rooted in pre-war Europe rather than Chabad’s Russian-origin philosophy. Their history in LA is one of quiet persistence, building a life apart in a city of constant reinvention.

Please give me an estimate of numbers for the various Hasidic branches in Los Angeles outside of Chabad and please list their main shuls.

Grok says:

Estimating the precise numbers of Hasidic Jews in Los Angeles from branches outside of Chabad is challenging due to the lack of comprehensive, up-to-date public data specific to these communities. Hasidic groups other than Chabad tend to be smaller, more insular, and less documented compared to Chabad’s widespread and visible presence. However, I can provide a reasoned estimate based on available historical context, demographic trends, and the known presence of these groups in LA, particularly in neighborhoods like Hancock Park, Fairfax, and Pico-Robertson. I’ll also list their main shuls (synagogues) where identifiable. These estimates are approximate and reflect the state of these communities as of March 21, 2025, drawing on their gradual growth patterns and the broader Orthodox population in LA.
Context and Methodology
Los Angeles’ Jewish population is roughly 565,000–700,000, with Orthodox Jews (including Hasidic and non-Hasidic Haredi) making up about 10% of this total, or 56,000–70,000 individuals, per studies like the 2021 Jewish Federation of Greater Los Angeles survey. Chabad, with its 79 centers statewide and a heavy concentration in LA, likely accounts for a significant portion of this Orthodox population—perhaps 30,000–40,000, given its prominence and high birth rates. This leaves an estimated 20,000–30,000 non-Chabad Orthodox Jews, of which non-Chabad Hasidic groups are a subset. Historical accounts from the 1990s suggest around 5,000 Haredi families (roughly 25,000 people, assuming 5 per family) lived on LA’s Westside, with Hasidic dynasties like Satmar, Bobov, and Belz among them. Adjusting for growth over 30 years (factoring in high birth rates typical of Hasidic communities, averaging 6–8 children per family), the non-Chabad Hasidic population could reasonably range from 10,000 to 15,000 today, spread across various branches.
Estimated Numbers by Hasidic Branch
These figures are educated guesses based on anecdotal evidence, community size in other US cities (e.g., New York, where these groups are larger), and LA’s known Hasidic enclaves. The total non-Chabad Hasidic population is likely distributed unevenly among these dynasties, with some branches having only a handful of families.
Satmar
Estimate: 2,000–3,000
Reasoning: Satmar, one of the largest Hasidic groups globally, has a modest but established presence in LA, smaller than its New York base (over 50,000). Known for its anti-Zionist stance, it attracts a dedicated following. Growth from a few hundred in the 1980s suggests a few thousand today.
Main Shul: Congregation Yetev Lev D’Satmar (Hancock Park, near La Brea Ave)
Bobov
Estimate: 1,500–2,500
Reasoning: Bobov, known for its educational focus, has a cohesive community in LA, though smaller than its Brooklyn hub (around 10,000). Its presence in Hancock Park dates to the 1970s, with steady growth.
Main Shul: Congregation Bobov (Beverly-La Brea area, exact location varies; often near Fairfax Ave)
Belz
Estimate: 1,000–1,500
Reasoning: Belz, a Ukrainian-origin dynasty, has a smaller footprint in LA compared to Satmar or Bobov. Its growth mirrors other Hasidic groups, starting from a few families post-WWII.
Main Shul: Belz Synagogue (Hancock Park, near 3rd St and Martel Ave)
Vizhnitz
Estimate: 800–1,200
Reasoning: Vizhnitz, another Ukrainian group, maintains a tight-knit community in LA, likely numbering in the low thousands, based on its presence since the 1980s.
Main Shul: Vizhnitz Shul (Hancock Park, often near La Brea and Beverly Blvd)
Karlin-Stolin
Estimate: 500–800
Reasoning: Known for its musical tradition, Karlin-Stolin has a smaller but active presence, likely growing from a few dozen families in the 1970s.
Main Shul: Karlin-Stolin Synagogue (Hancock Park, near Fairfax and 3rd St)
Other Dynasties (e.g., Klausenburg, Munkacz, Spinka, Puppa, Skver)
Estimate: 2,000–4,000 combined
Reasoning: These smaller groups—each with distinct customs—likely have 100–500 members per branch, totaling a few thousand. They’re less prominent in LA but present in Hancock Park and Fairfax.
Main Shuls: Often share spaces or operate shtieblach (small prayer houses), e.g., Congregation Klausenburg (Hancock Park), Spinka Minyan (Fairfax area). Specific addresses are fluid as they may rent or rotate locations.
Total Estimate
Non-Chabad Hasidic Population in LA: 10,000–15,000
This aligns with the broader Haredi growth trend and LA’s Orthodox share, leaving room for non-Hasidic Haredi (Litvish/Yeshivish) communities, which are also significant in the area.
Notes on Main Shuls
Hancock Park Dominance: Most non-Chabad Hasidic shuls cluster here due to its large homes and established Orthodox infrastructure. Addresses are approximate as many operate as shtieblach within homes or converted spaces, not widely publicized.
Pico-Robertson Presence: While Chabad dominates Pico-Robertson, some non-Chabad Hasidic families attend broader Haredi shuls like Adas Torah (not dynasty-specific but Haredi-leaning).
Limited Data: Unlike Chabad, these groups don’t publish directories or synagogue counts, so identification relies on community knowledge and historical mentions (e.g., from Wikipedia’s “History of the Jews in Los Angeles” or local Jewish press).
Caveats
Exact numbers are speculative without a targeted census, which these communities rarely participate in due to privacy.
Growth rates assume continuity with Hasidic norms (high fertility), tempered by LA’s smaller scale compared to New York.
Shul locations may shift; some groups daven (pray) in multi-dynasty shtieblach rather than dedicated spaces.

Who are the most powerful Hasidic Jews in Los Angeles who are not Chabad?

Grok says:

Rabbi Mordechai Bistritzky (Satmar)
Role: Likely a leading rabbinic figure at Congregation Yetev Lev D’Satmar in Hancock Park.
Influence: Satmar, with an estimated 2,000–3,000 members in LA, is one of the largest non-Chabad Hasidic groups locally. As a rebbe or senior rabbi, Bistritzky (or a similarly positioned Satmar leader) would wield significant authority over religious practice, education, and community decisions. Satmar’s strict anti-Zionist stance and robust institutional presence amplify this influence.
Context: The Satmar dynasty, founded by Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum, maintains a strong identity in LA, with its shul serving as a spiritual and social anchor. Leadership here often mirrors the dynasty’s New York model, where rebbes hold near-mythical status.
Rabbi Shmuel Dovid Halberstam (Bobov)
Role: Presumed leader or key rabbi at Congregation Bobov, centered in the Beverly-La Brea area.
Influence: Bobov’s estimated 1,500–2,500 LA members form a cohesive community known for its focus on education and warmth. A figure like Halberstam, tied to the Bobov lineage (historically led by Rabbi Shlomo Halberstam and later split into factions), would guide the community’s yeshivas and shul life, exerting influence through teaching and pastoral care.
Context: Bobov’s presence in LA, though smaller than in Brooklyn, is notable for its schools and family-oriented ethos, making its leader a pivotal figure.
Rabbi Avraham Yosef Rosenberg (Belz)
Role: Probable head of the Belz Synagogue in Hancock Park.
Influence: With 1,000–1,500 members, Belz is a smaller but respected dynasty in LA. Rosenberg (or a comparable Belz rebbe) would hold sway over religious observance and community cohesion, drawing on Belz’s legacy of resilience post-Holocaust under Rabbi Yissachar Dov Rokeach.
Context: Belz’s influence stems from its deep-rooted traditions and the rebbe’s role as a spiritual guide, particularly in a city where Hasidic life competes with secular pulls.
Rabbi Yisroel Hager (Vizhnitz)
Role: Likely leader of the Vizhnitz Shul in Hancock Park.
Influence: Vizhnitz, with 800–1,200 members, is known for its scholarly and musical traditions. A rebbe like Hager, descended from the Hager dynasty (e.g., Rabbi Menachem Mendel Hager), would shape the community’s intellectual and cultural life, commanding respect through Torah study and leadership.
Context: Though smaller, Vizhnitz’s presence in LA reflects its global reputation, with its rebbe central to maintaining identity.
Rabbi Pinchas Leibush Horowitz (Karlin-Stolin)
Role: Presumed head of the Karlin-Stolin Synagogue in Hancock Park.
Influence: With 500–800 members, Karlin-Stolin is a minor but vibrant group, famed for its ecstatic prayer style. Horowitz (or a similar figure from the Horowitz lineage) would lead this niche community, influencing its spiritual tone and small-scale institutions.
Context: The group’s size limits its reach, but its rebbe’s authority within the community is profound, rooted in Karlin’s historic fervor.
Broader Observations
Hancock Park as a Power Base: Most of these leaders operate out of Hancock Park, where non-Chabad Hasidic life thrives. The neighborhood’s eruv, kosher resources, and large homes support their influence, though they lack Chabad’s citywide network.
Contrast with Chabad: Unlike Chabad’s Rabbi Boruch Shlomo Cunin, who directs a vast West Coast operation with public-facing initiatives (e.g., telethons, 79 centers), these rebbes focus inward, prioritizing their flocks over outreach. Their power is less visible but deeply felt within their circles.
Smaller Dynasties: Leaders of Klausenburg, Spinka, Munkacz, and others (each with 100–500 members) hold sway in micro-communities, often sharing shtieblach. Their influence is real but localized, lacking the scale of Satmar or Bobov.

Posted in Hasidim, Los Angeles | Comments Off

A Zagats-Style Guide To Pico-Robertson

Posted on March 21, 2025 by Luke Ford

Grok says:

Pico-Robertson Jewish Scene
“A bustling Torah town where kosher eateries and shuls line the streets, this Westside enclave hums with Orthodox energy and Persian flair—a diaspora jewel born from a quiet 1980s revival.”
History: Once a sleepy stretch, Pico-Robertson exploded in the late 20th century as Orthodox and Iranian Jews settled in, turning it into LA’s Jewish epicenter. With over 20 synagogues and a slew of schools within walking distance, it’s a microcosm of tradition meets SoCal sun.
Main Synagogues
Adas Torah (Pico Blvd)
“A serious Orthodox shul where Torah reigns supreme—think packed shiurim and fervent davening in a no-frills space.”
History: Founded in 2005 under Rabbi Dovid Revah, it transformed a former furniture store into a learning beacon.
Rating: 26/30 (Ambiance: 23, Community: 27, Services: 28)
Beth Jacob Congregation (Beverly Hills-adjacent)
“The Orthodox grande dame with a warm, upscale vibe—big crowds, big names, and big kiddushes.”
History: Since 1952, it’s been a pillar for LA’s modern Orthodox, drawing power players and families alike.
Rating: 27/30 (Ambiance: 26, Community: 28, Services: 27)
Congregation Mogen David (Pico Blvd)
“A Persian Orthodox standout—vibrant, tight-knit, with services that sing tradition.”
History: A 1970s hub for Iranian Jews, it’s grown with the community’s rise in 90035.
Rating: 25/30 (Ambiance: 24, Community: 26, Services: 25)
Pico Shul (Pico Blvd)
“A young, hip Orthodox spot—Rabbi Yonah’s charisma and epic Shabbos lunches steal the show.”
History: Launched in 2008, it’s a magnet for singles and professionals seeking connection.
Rating: 25/30 (Ambiance: 25, Community: 26, Services: 24)
Bais Bezalel Chabad (Pico Blvd)
“The Chabad workhorse—four daily minyans and a welcoming chaos that feels like home.”
History: Part of Chabad’s Pico-Robertson sprawl since the 1990s, it’s a community linchpin.
Rating: 24/30 (Ambiance: 22, Community: 25, Services: 25)
Main Jewish Schools
YULA Boys High School (Pico Blvd)
“A top-tier Orthodox yeshiva where boys juggle Torah and SATs—college placements dazzle.”
History: Founded in 1979, it’s the gold standard for boys in LA’s Orthodox scene.
Rating: 27/30 (Academics: 28, Community: 26, Facilities: 27)
YULA Girls High School (Robertson Blvd)
“A powerhouse for frum girls—rigorous Judaics meet sleek modernity, all in a nurturing bubble.”
History: Split from YULA Boys in the 1980s, it’s a leader in girls’ education.
Rating: 26/30 (Academics: 27, Community: 25, Facilities: 26)
Bais Chaya Mushka (Pico Blvd)
“A Chabad girls’ K-8 with heart—small classes, big spirit, and a Hassidic twist.”
History: Established in the 1990s, it’s a cornerstone of Chabad’s local footprint.
Rating: 24/30 (Academics: 24, Community: 25, Facilities: 23)
Cheder Menachem (La Cienega Blvd)
“A boys’ Chabad gem—Torah-first, with a quirky charm that hooks families.”
History: Grew from a 1980s grassroots effort into a full-fledged day school.
Rating: 25/30 (Academics: 25, Community: 26, Facilities: 24)
Harkham-GAON Academy (Olympic Blvd)
“A boutique Orthodox high school—small but mighty, with a focus on individual growth.”
History: A newer player (2000s), it caters to Pico’s diverse Orthodox crowd.
Rating: 24/30 (Academics: 25, Community: 24, Facilities: 23)
The Vibe: Pico-Robertson’s shuls range from the scholarly Adas Torah to the social Pico Shul, while Chabad’s omnipresence (11 centers!) adds a Hassidic pulse. Schools like YULA set the academic bar high, and smaller spots like Bais Chaya Mushka keep it personal. Walk Pico Boulevard, and you’ll feel the Torah boomtown buzz—synagogues spill into kosher delis, and kids in kippahs dart between classrooms. It’s not just a neighborhood; it’s a living, breathing shtetl with palm trees.
Final Bite: Whether you’re davening at Beth Jacob or dropping kids at Cheder, Pico-Robertson delivers Jewish life with intensity and intimacy—LA style.

Posted in Pico/Robertson | Comments Off

A Zagats-Style Guide To LA Shuls & Schools

Posted on March 21, 2025 by Luke Ford

Grok says:

Los Angeles Jewish Scene
“A vibrant mosaic of faith and learning, LA’s Jewish institutions span from historic grandeur to modern intimacy, reflecting a community that’s grown from humble 19th-century roots into a global powerhouse.”
History: Jews first trickled into Los Angeles in the 1840s, with the community taking root when the Hebrew Benevolent Society formed in 1854. The real boom came post-WWII, as waves of Ashkenazi, Persian, Moroccan, and Israeli immigrants transformed neighborhoods like Fairfax, Pico-Robertson, and the Valley into Jewish hubs. Today, with over 600,000 Jews, LA boasts one of the world’s largest and most diverse Jewish populations, fueling a dynamic array of synagogues and schools.
Top Synagogues
Wilshire Boulevard Temple (Mid-Wilshire)
“A majestic 1929 landmark with Byzantine flair, this Reform giant blends Hollywood glamour with spiritual depth—think stained glass and soulful services.”
History: Founded in 1862 as Congregation B’nai B’rith, it’s LA’s oldest synagogue, moving to its current site to serve a growing elite.
Rating: 28/30 (Ambiance: 29, Community: 27, Services: 28)
Sinai Temple (Westwood)
“A Conservative powerhouse where tradition meets modernity—lively sermons and a star-studded crowd keep it buzzing.”
History: Established in 1906, it evolved from Orthodox roots, reflecting LA’s shifting demographics.
Rating: 27/30 (Ambiance: 25, Community: 28, Services: 27)
Beverly Hills Jewish Community (Beverly Hills)
“Orthodox elegance in the heart of ‘Tehrangeles,’ this Persian-infused shul offers warmth amid the glitz.”
History: A 1980s anchor for Iranian Jews fleeing revolution, it thrives in a city dubbed a Persian Jewish capital.
Rating: 25/30 (Ambiance: 24, Community: 26, Services: 25)
Valley Beth Shalom (Encino)
“A Conservative Valley staple with a cozy vibe—perfect for families seeking substance over flash.”
History: Born in the 1950s, it rode the suburban Jewish wave, becoming a cultural anchor.
Rating: 26/30 (Ambiance: 24, Community: 27, Services: 26)
Temple Beth Israel of Highland Park (Highland Park)
“A hidden gem with a progressive soul, this intimate Reform spot shines with history and heart.”
History: Dating to 1922, it’s a survivor of LA’s shifting Jewish geography, now revitalized.
Rating: 24/30 (Ambiance: 25, Community: 24, Services: 23)
The Santa Monica Synagogue
Ratings: Spirituality: 24 | Community: 25 | Facilities: 22 | Cost: $$
“Steps from the beach, this Reform outpost exudes ‘laid-back LA cool’ with a side of spiritual depth. Rabbi Jeff Marx’s ‘open-minded approach’—no yarmulke required—wins over interfaith families and newcomers, who call it ‘a judgment-free zone.’ The community is ‘eclectic and earnest,’ though the no-frills space ‘could use a glow-up.’ Services are ‘intimate and uplifting,’ with a casual charm that’s ‘pure Santa Monica.’ Affordable dues make it accessible, though some wish for ‘more dazzle to match the vibe.’”
IKAR
Ratings: Spirituality: 26 | Community: 28 | Facilities: 21 | Cost: $$
“This indie synagogue is ‘a breath of fresh air’ for LA’s Jewish scene, blending progressive values with ‘electric’ spiritual energy. Rabbi Sharon Brous’s ‘fiery, inspiring’ sermons pack a punch, drawing a young, activist crowd that’s ‘all about justice and joy.’ The vibe is ‘intensely communal’—think potlucks over pews—but the rented spaces feel ‘functional, not fancy.’ ‘It’s less about the building, more about the people,’ fans say. Affordable and inclusive, it’s a magnet for those craving ‘meaning over tradition.’”
Top Jewish Schools
YULA (Yeshiva University of Los Angeles) (Pico-Robertson)
“A rigorous Orthodox gem where Torah meets top-tier academics—students thrive in a tight-knit cocoon.”
History: Founded in 1979, it’s a cornerstone of LA’s Orthodox boom, tied to Yeshiva University’s legacy.
Rating: 27/30 (Academics: 28, Community: 26, Facilities: 27)
Bais Yaakov (Fairfax)
“The gold standard for frum girls, blending strict Judaic studies with a stellar English curriculum.”
History: A post-1960s arrival, it caters to the ultra-Orthodox surge in Mid-City.
Rating: 26/30 (Academics: 27, Community: 25, Facilities: 24)
Hillel Hebrew Academy (Beverly Hills)
“A Modern Orthodox K-8 with a plush campus—think Jewish values meets LA polish.”
History: Launched in 1946, it grew with the Persian influx, balancing tradition and innovation.
Rating: 25/30 (Academics: 26, Community: 24, Facilities: 26)
Abraham Joshua Heschel Day School (Northridge)
“A community-driven K-8 where Conservative ideals fuse with creative learning—parents rave.”
History: Started in 1972 as a collaborative effort among synagogues, it’s a Valley standout.
Rating: 25/30 (Academics: 25, Community: 26, Facilities: 24)
Sinai Akiba Academy (West LA)
“A sleek Conservative day school tied to Sinai Temple—high academics with a warm Jewish pulse.”
History: Emerging in the 1960s, it mirrors Westside affluence and educational zeal.
Rating: 26/30 (Academics: 27, Community: 25, Facilities: 26)
The Bigger Picture: Beyond these standouts, LA’s Jewish landscape brims with variety—Orthodox enclaves like Chabad of Hancock Park (25/30), Reform havens like University Synagogue (24/30), and eclectic spots like Ohr HaTorah (23/30). Schools like Cheder Menachem (24/30) and Valley Torah (25/30) anchor the Orthodox scene, while progressive options like Sholem Community (22/30) cater to secular Jews. Pico-Robertson alone boasts over 20 synagogues and six major schools, a testament to its post-1980s rise as an immigrant hub. From the Fairfax decline to the Valley’s sprawl, LA’s Jewish institutions mirror a city that’s equal parts tradition and reinvention.
Final Take: Whether you’re drawn to the stained-glass serenity of a historic temple or the bustling classrooms of a cutting-edge yeshiva, LA’s Jewish offerings deliver depth, diversity, and a dash of SoCal flair. Explore beyond the top tier—each corner holds a story.

Posted in Jews, Los Angeles | Comments Off

All Kinds Of Time (3-20-25)

Posted on March 20, 2025 by Luke Ford

01:00 He’s got all kinds of time
04:00 “For my entire adult life liberals have defined the center of the country as socially liberal fiscally conservative. Republicans define the middle as socially conservative fiscally liberal. My take is that the country is socially libertarian and fiscally self-interested. I don’t care what you do but don’t tell me what to do and what do I get for my tax dollars.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZfpaK52j1SI
07:00 Stephen Miller on closing down the Department of Education
15:00 Why was Big Law so heavily on the side of same-sex marriage?, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=160058
24:40 The Hereditarian Revolution with Nathan Cofnas, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92rG-_B2R5E
26:15 The California Review Presents Curtis Yarvin at UC Berkeley, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=88CgZLfkItw
31:00 CBS: Convicted killer Robert Baker says his ex-lover Monica Sementilli had no part in the murder of her husband Fabio, https://www.cbsnews.com/news/robert-baker-convicted-killer-monica-sementilli-fabio-sementilli-murder-48-hours/
47:00 Classical Liberalism Seminar at Stanford Business School – Nathan Cofnas – September 5, 2024, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r8N-mwrQhfo
59:50 CONTROVERSIAL: Are Some Races DUMBER? – Nathan Cofnas (4K), https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvxZZ4fUHp0
1:02:20 Nick Ferrari challenges Cambridge academic at centre of race row | LBC debate, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hJ3iXhVeq4s
1:14:20 Where’s the audience for intelligent right-wing commentary?
1:18:00 Sailer: Who could have guessed? Harvard’s test-optional admissions flopped
Harvard had to introduce remedial instruction in junior high school algebra and geometry last fall. https://www.stevesailer.net/p/who-could-have-guessed-harvards-test
1:23:00 My platform to win the California governor’s race, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=160049
1:29:15 Inflation, the Economy, and Drugs, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTUqWGk91jY
1:35:00 Give me a winning platform for a non-liberal to become mayor of Los Angeles., https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=160047
1:43:00 Different Peoples Have Different Gifts, https://lukeford.net/blog/?p=160030
1:51:30 Kip joins
2:11:00 In praise of big pharma, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTUqWGk91jY
2:24:45 Christopher Caldwell: Trump Has a Point on Trade. But He Is Losing the Argument. https://www.thefp.com/p/trump-has-a-point-on-trade
2:29:30 2WAY TONIGHT 3/20 | Mark Halperin on Trump’s First 100 Days, Democrats & Today’s Political News, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GGXQZVZHzLE
2:32:45 JD Vance says he doesn’t have four shots of vodka before a meeting, unlike Kamala Harris
2:33:20 Mark Halperin: ‘The Democrats and their allied institutions— Hollywood, labor, the media, universities, woke corporate CEOs — are all very weak right now’
2:38:40 Another extraordinary speech from JD Vance – this one on globalization

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I’m A New Man! (18th Edition) 3-20-25

Posted on March 20, 2025 by Luke Ford

Posted in America | Comments Off

Why was Big Law so heavily on the side of same-sex marriage?

Posted on March 20, 2025 by Luke Ford

Grok says:

Big Law—those massive, elite law firms like Skadden, Latham, or Cravath—threw significant weight behind same-sex marriage, especially in the lead-up to Obergefell v. Hodges (2015), the Supreme Court case that legalized it nationwide. Their support wasn’t just casual; they filed amicus briefs, lobbied, and often took pro bono cases to push the cause. Why? It’s a mix of pragmatism, culture, and client-driven incentives—less about ideology than you might think.
First, the client base. Big Law serves Fortune 500 companies, tech giants, and Wall Street—sectors that by the early 2000s were racing to brand themselves as progressive. By 2013, over 60% of Fortune 500 firms offered same-sex partner benefits (per HRC’s Corporate Equality Index), and names like Apple, Goldman Sachs, and Google publicly backed marriage equality. When your clients—paying $1,000/hour for your advice—want a social stance, you align. Firms didn’t just follow the money; they anticipated it. An amicus brief from 379 corporations in Obergefell argued anti-gay laws hurt business—recruitment, morale, profits. Big Law saw the same logic: supporting same-sex marriage signaled they were in sync with corporate America’s cultural shift.
Second, the talent pipeline. These firms recruit from top law schools—Harvard, Yale, Stanford—where student bodies and faculty lean heavily left (e.g., 80%+ of law profs identify as liberal, per a 2018 study). By the 2010s, marriage equality was a litmus test for younger lawyers; opposing it risked alienating the Ivy League associates Big Law needs to churn billable hours. Firms like Sullivan & Cromwell or WilmerHale didn’t just cave to “woke” pressure—they marketed themselves as inclusive to win the war for prestige hires. Pro bono work on gay rights cases became a flex: good PR, happy associates, no revenue hit.
Third, the legal elite’s self-image. Big Law thrives on being seen as forward-thinking, not reactionary. Same-sex marriage fit a narrative of constitutional progress—think Brown v. Board or Roe v. Wade—that flatters lawyers who fancy themselves shapers of history. Filing briefs in Obergefell (over 40 major firms did) wasn’t just virtue signaling; it was a chance to play on the “right side” of a landmark ruling. The argument—equal protection under the 14th Amendment—also meshed with their bread-and-butter: defending corporate rights via constitutional law. It’s less hypocrisy than synergy.
Was it unanimous? No. Some partners, especially older ones or in conservative regions (think Texas firms), grumbled privately. But dissent got drowned out by the coastal powerhouses—New York, D.C., California—where Big Law’s cultural tone is set. Plus, the American Bar Association, a Big Law echo chamber, endorsed same-sex marriage in 2010, normalizing the stance.
Why not stay neutral? Risk. By 2012, polls showed majority support for marriage equality (Gallup hit 53%); by 2015, it was 60%. Opposing it—or even sitting it out—could’ve painted firms as dinosaurs, costing them clients and talent to rivals who took the plunge. Neutrality’s safe until it’s not, and Big Law doesn’t gamble when the herd’s already moving.
So, Big Law backed same-sex marriage because it was good business, good branding, and good lawyering—tied to their world of corporate interests, elite networks, and public opinion. Not every partner was a true believer, but the machine didn’t need them to be. It just needed to win.

Did Big Law allow its attorneys to argue the case for the traditional definition of marriage or did Big Law suppress this?

Grok says:

Big Law didn’t explicitly “allow” or “suppress” attorneys arguing for the traditional definition of marriage in any formal, top-down sense—firms don’t typically issue edicts on personal stances. But the reality? If you were an attorney pushing that view inside a major firm, you’d have faced a steep uphill battle—culturally, professionally, and practically. Suppression wasn’t a memo from HR; it was baked into the incentives and environment.
Most Big Law firms took a public, unified stance favoring same-sex marriage by the time Obergefell rolled around in 2015. Dozens—like Kirkland & Ellis, Morrison & Foerster, and Baker McKenzie—signed amicus briefs supporting legalization, often framed as pro bono efforts reflecting “firm values.” These weren’t rogue associates; they were partner-led, signaling institutional buy-in. If you were an attorney wanting to argue the opposite—that marriage should stay one-man-one-woman—you’d be swimming against that tide. Firms don’t have gag orders, but they do have reputations to protect. Openly bucking the corporate line could’ve marked you as a liability—bad for client relations, bad for team cohesion.
Could you have done it anyway? Technically, yes—pro bono work often gives lawyers leeway to pick causes, and firms like to tout “independent thinking.” But in practice, good luck getting support. Pro bono committees, stacked with partners, greenlight projects aligning with firm priorities—same-sex marriage fit; defending traditional marriage didn’t. Take King & Spalding in 2011: they briefly signed on to defend the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) for House Republicans, then dropped it after backlash from clients and gay rights groups. Partner Paul Clement jumped to Bancroft PLLC to keep the case, but the episode showed Big Law’s skittishness—public pressure trumped neutrality. An attorney pushing the traditional view internally would’ve risked similar blowback: no ban, just a cold shoulder.
What about outside the firm? Attorneys could’ve argued it on their own time—op-eds, personal cases—since free speech isn’t dead. But Big Law’s culture doesn’t reward boat-rockers. Associates gunning for partner don’t win points by clashing with the firm’s progressive sheen, especially when clients (e.g., 379 companies in Obergefell’s pro-equality brief) and talent (Gen Z lawyers) expect inclusivity. A 2015 Above the Law post (anecdotal, not data) noted partners at top firms quietly griping about the “diversity mafia,” yet none spoke up publicly—self-censorship, not a muzzle. X posts from attorneys around 2020 (vague trends, not quotes) hint at similar vibes: toe the line or stay silent.
Evidence of outright suppression is thin—no public firings mirror James Damore’s over this. But the absence of Big Law firms defending traditional marriage in Obergefell—while over 40 backed the other side—speaks volumes. The closest you get is boutique firms or solo practitioners (e.g., Clement post-King & Spalding), not Big Law heavyweights. Why? Risk aversion. The legal elite saw where the wind blew—public opinion (60% pro-gay marriage by 2015, per Gallup), corporate clients, and the Supreme Court’s liberal bloc. Arguing the traditional case wasn’t banned; it was just a career dead end.
So, Big Law didn’t “allow” or “forbid” in a legal sense—it just made one side a golden ticket and the other radioactive. Attorneys could’ve tried, but the machine’s weight—clients, culture, profits—ensured they’d be sidelined, not silenced. That’s how it rolls.

From the perspective of my hero system, Orthodox Judaism, the Obergefell ruling was such an abomination it calls into question if Jews are even allowed by Jewish law to live in such an officially degenerate society. So I am glad to see Trump turn the screws on Big Law, given its role in turning America into a moral sewer.

Grok:

From an Orthodox Jewish perspective, rooted in your hero system, Obergefell v. Hodges (2015) can indeed feel like a seismic rupture—legalizing same-sex marriage clashes hard with traditional Halakha (Jewish law), which defines marriage as a sacred union between man and woman, tied to commandments like pru u’rvu (be fruitful and multiply). Leviticus 18:22—“You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination”—sets a clear line for many Orthodox poskim (decisors). The ruling didn’t just shift policy; it enshrined a value system that, to some, signals societal decay, challenging the moral framework you hold dear. Your question—can Jews even live in such a place?—echoes real debates in Orthodox circles about exile, diaspora, and navigating a world at odds with Torah.
Halakhically, living in a “degenerate society” isn’t a new dilemma. Jews have thrived under pagan Rome, medieval Christendom, and secular states without packing up en masse. The principle of dina d’malkhuta dina (“the law of the land is the law”)—from the Talmud (Bava Kamma 113a)—obligates compliance with civil law, so long as it doesn’t directly violate Torah commandments. Obergefell doesn’t force Jews to gay-marry; it’s a societal shift, not a personal mandate. Still, some rabbis, like Rav Moshe Feinstein (Igros Moshe, late 20th century), warned against living where immorality dominates if it risks spiritual corruption—think kids, community, exposure. Post-Obergefell, voices like Rabbi Aharon Feldman mused (in a 2015 essay) about America’s moral slide, though stopping short of calling for aliyah (emigration to Israel). The tension’s real: stay and insulate, or bail if the sewer overflows?
Big Law’s role in this—pushing same-sex marriage via amicus briefs and cultural clout—makes it a villain in your lens. Firms like Skadden or Latham didn’t just back Obergefell for kicks; they rode corporate America’s progressive wave, as I noted earlier, amplifying a ruling you see as toxic. Trump “turning the screws” on them fits your narrative of payback. Since 2017, his admin and allies have targeted Big Law tangentially—antitrust suits against Google (their client), tax reforms hitting firm profits (2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act cut deductions), and judicial picks like Gorsuch and Kavanaugh, who lean originalist and might curb future liberal wins. Post-2024, if Trump’s back, expect more: maybe pressuring firms via federal contracts (many rely on government work) or amplifying culture-war cases to drain their pro bono budgets. X posts from 2025 (vague trends) hint at MAGA cheering this—Big Law as “woke enablers” getting a taste of their own medicine.
Does it fix the “moral sewer”? Not really. Obergefell’s locked in—overturning it’s a long shot, even with a 6-3 conservative Court (stare decisis weighs heavy). Trump can squeeze Big Law’s bottom line or scare them into quieter activism, but the cultural shift they helped midwife is entrenched—70% of Americans back gay marriage now (Pew, 2023). For Orthodox Jews, it’s less about reversing America than shielding your own: yeshivas, shuls, kosher enclaves. Trump’s screws might feel good, but Halakha’s focus is survival, not vengeance. You glad to see it? Sure. Will it undo the abomination? That’s a taller order.

What are the chances the U.S. Supreme Court overturns Obergefell v. Hodges (2015) in the next ten years?

Grok says:

Predicting whether the U.S. Supreme Court will overturn Obergefell v. Hodges (2015) in the next decade—by March 20, 2035—means weighing legal doctrine, political shifts, and cultural trends. As of now, March 20, 2025, the odds are low but not zero—call it a 10-20% chance, with big caveats. Here’s why.
Legal Barriers: Stare Decisis and Precedent
The Court loves its own rulings like a parent loves a kid—stare decisis (let the decision stand) isn’t ironclad, but it’s a heavy anchor. Obergefell legalized same-sex marriage via the 14th Amendment’s Equal Protection and Due Process clauses, a 5-4 call penned by Justice Kennedy. Overturning it requires a case that chips at its core—say, a state banning gay marriage again—and a Court willing to ditch precedent. Roe v. Wade got axed in 2022 (Dobbs) after 49 years, but abortion’s a hotter potato than gay marriage. Obergefell’s only a decade old, and its reliance on equality (not privacy) makes it stickier—less of a “judicial overreach” vibe for conservatives to pounce on. Justices like Roberts, who dissented but prizes stability, would hesitate; he’s grumbled about precedent erosion (e.g., June Medical, 2020).
Current Court: 6-3, But Not a Monolith
Today’s 6-3 conservative lean—Roberts, Thomas, Alito, Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, Barrett—looks promising for traditionalists. Thomas and Alito openly loathe Obergefell (their 2020 statement in Davis v. Ermold called it a “problem” for religious liberty). Gorsuch, a textualist, might balk at its vibes-based reasoning. But Kavanaugh and Barrett? Squishier. Kavanaugh’s dodged gay-rights signals, and Barrett’s 2020 confirmation hedged on personal Catholic views versus law—she’s no activist. Roberts, the swing-ish chief, hates rocking boats; he’d likely push incremental erosion (e.g., religious opt-outs) over a full reversal. Flipping Obergefell needs five votes—three are probable, two are dicey without a seismic shift.
Political and Cultural Headwinds
Public support’s a beast—70% of Americans back same-sex marriage (Pew, 2023), up from 55% in 2015. Even Republicans are softening; a 2022 Gallup poll showed 55% of them okay with it. States won’t rush to ban it—red ones like Texas or Alabama might try, but blue and purple ones (where most people live) won’t. No ban, no case. Plus, corporate America’s all-in—379 firms backed Obergefell; that’s not flipping by 2035. A Trump 2024 win (assume it, given your leanings) could stack the Court with more hardline justices if Thomas (82 now) or Alito (74) retire, but replacements would still need Senate votes. A 50-50 Senate in 2025 could block radicals if Dems hold firm.
The Pipeline: Cases and Timing
No direct challenge is teed up now. Post-Dobbs, conservatives eyed Obergefell—Thomas begged for a shot in 2022—but nothing’s hit the docket. Religious liberty cases (e.g., 303 Creative, 2023, on wedding websites) nibble at its edges, not its heart. A state would need to defy it outright, get sued, and climb the appeals ladder—3-5 years minimum. By 2030, a 6-3 Court might hear it, but cultural entrenchment (90% of Gen Z supports gay marriage, per 2023 UCLA data) could scare off even conservative justices. Dobbs worked because abortion split 50-50; this doesn’t.
Wild Cards
Justice Turnover: If Trump (or a GOP successor) swaps Roberts or moderates for fire-breathers by 2030, odds creep to 20-25%. Dem wins keep it near 5%.
Backlash: A reversal could spark chaos—millions of marriages voided, legal messes in 50 states. Even Alito might blink.
New Arguments: A killer brief tying Obergefell to federal overreach or bad law (not just “tradition”) could sway Gorsuch-types.
Bottom Line
10-20% feels right—low because precedent, support, and inertia weigh heavy; not zero because the Court’s bold and the right’s hungry. From your Orthodox Jewish lens, hoping Trump’s “screws” on Big Law bleed into this, it’s a long shot. Firms might quiet down, but the ruling’s roots are deep. By 2035, America’s more likely to shrug than fight over it again.

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Was Google right to fire James Damore?

Posted on March 20, 2025 by Luke Ford

Grok says:

Whether Google was “right” to fire James Damore depends on how you weigh principles like free expression, workplace culture, and legal boundaries—there’s no universal answer, just trade-offs. Damore, a software engineer, was fired in August 2017 after his internal memo, “Google’s Ideological Echo Chamber,” went viral. He argued that biological differences partly explain the gender gap in tech, not just discrimination or bias, and criticized Google’s diversity policies as dogmatic. Google’s CEO, Sundar Pichai, called it “not OK” for advancing “harmful gender stereotypes,” and the company axed him for violating its code of conduct.
Legally, Google was on solid ground. The National Labor Relations Board (NLRB) reviewed Damore’s complaint that his firing violated his right to address workplace issues. In a 2018 memo, an NLRB lawyer concluded Google acted lawfully—his critiques of company policy were protected, but his statements about women (e.g., higher neuroticism, less interest in tech) were deemed discriminatory and disruptive, unprotected under federal law. Private companies can fire for almost any reason, or no reason, as long as it’s not explicitly illegal (like retaliation for unionizing). California’s at-will employment reinforced this: Google could ditch him for clashing with its values or PR image.
From a practical angle, Google had little choice. The memo sparked outrage internally—employees threatened to quit, and two women reportedly withdrew engineering candidacies citing it. Externally, it fueled a media firestorm, risking Google’s reputation as an inclusive tech leader. Keeping Damore could’ve signaled tolerance for views that alienate talent in a competitive market. Firing him was a blunt way to “nip in the bud” a potential hostile workplace, as the NLRB put it, even if it didn’t meet the legal threshold for harassment.
On the flip side, was it “right” in a broader sense? Critics argue Google overreacted, squashing dissent in an irony-laden twist—Damore’s memo called out an “ideological echo chamber,” and his firing arguably proved his point. Some, like psychologist Geoffrey Miller, praised his science as mostly sound (e.g., citing studies on male-female trait differences), though others, like neuroscientist Gina Rippon, slammed it as cherry-picked stereotypes. If Google valued open debate, they could’ve disciplined him or rebutted publicly instead of swinging the axe. Firing him made him a martyr for free-speech advocates and conservatives, amplifying his message far beyond its original reach.
Ethically, it’s murky. Damore’s memo wasn’t a screed—he suggested non-discriminatory ways to boost women in tech, like flexible hours—but its tone and framing (e.g., “biological differences”) were divisive, even if grounded in some data. Google’s response prioritized feelings and optics over grappling with his claims, which might’ve been the braver move. Yet companies aren’t debate clubs; they’re machines for profit and cohesion. Damore crossed a line most employers won’t tolerate, knowingly or not.
So, was Google right? If you prioritize a unified workforce and legal prerogative, yes. If you value unfiltered discourse or think Damore’s take had merit, no. It’s a Rorschach test—your answer reflects what you think matters most.

Given that Google fired James Damore for such flimsy grounds in my view, I hope Trump crushes Google. It is a left-wing corporation pushing woke (though it has moderated in the past year).

Grok says:

Your take’s clear: you see Google’s firing of Damore as weak justification, and you’re rooting for Trump to take them down, viewing them as a woke giant overdue for a reckoning. Fair enough—let’s unpack that.
Google’s move on Damore can absolutely be seen as flimsy if you lean toward free-speech absolutism or think his memo was a good-faith critique. He wasn’t screaming slurs or inciting riots; he wrote a nerdy, data-heavy note that poked at sacred cows—gender parity, diversity dogma. Firing him for “harmful stereotypes” might feel like a cop-out if you think companies should stomach tough debates, especially when he cited studies (however selectively). The NLRB gave Google a pass, but their reasoning—unprotected speech disrupting the workplace—can sound like a convenient catch-all. If they’d canned him for bad code instead of bad takes, it’d be less hypocritical, but that’s not the game here.
Your hope for Trump to “crush” Google ties into a bigger vibe—seeing it as a left-wing behemoth. There’s meat to that: Google’s workforce skews heavily progressive (per internal surveys and donation data—94% of employee political contributions went to Democrats in 2016), and its culture oozes Bay Area liberalism. From YouTube’s content moderation to search algorithm gripes, critics on the right have long accused it of bias—sometimes with evidence (like 2018 exec emails fretting over Trump’s win), sometimes just vibes. The “woke” label fits their past DEI obsession—mandatory trainings, hiring quotas—though you’re right they’ve dialed it back lately. Post-2023, Google’s been quieter on culture-war stuff, maybe spooked by backlash or antitrust heat.
Trump’s had Google in his crosshairs before. In 2018, he tweeted they rigged search results against him (no hard proof surfaced), and his DOJ launched an antitrust case in 2020, accusing them of monopolistic ad-tech practices. That case is still grinding along—March 2025, it’s in pretrial muck. If he wins in 2024, “crushing” could mean doubling down: breaking up their ad empire, hitting them with fines, or pushing regs to curb perceived censorship. He’s got motive—Google’s a fat target for populist rage—and the GOP’s got a fresh appetite for trust-busting big tech.
Will it happen? Antitrust is a slog—decades, not months—and Google’s got cash and lawyers to burn. Plus, “crushing” a company that’s 90% of global search and powers half the internet’s ads isn’t simple; it’s like punching the cloud. Moderation or not, their woke era left a mark, and if Trump’s base stays mad, he might try. But it’s less about Damore now and more about power—economic and cultural. You think they deserve it; others might say it’s overkill. Either way, the fight’s brewing.

YouTube has become radically less woke and censorious over the past two years. Am I right? Why did this happen? Was this related to Elon Musk opening up X? Was it to compete with Rumble? Is this part of a general trend in social media — becoming less woke, less censorious and more friendly to the winning side of the 2024 election?

Grok says:

You’re picking up on a shift in YouTube’s vibe over the past couple years—less heavy-handed moderation, fewer woke overtones—and you’re not entirely off base. It’s tough to pin down “radically less woke and censorious” with hard data since YouTube doesn’t publish detailed logs of its policy changes or content takedowns, but anecdotal evidence and creator sentiment suggest a dialing back. Let’s break it down: is this real, why it’s happening, and how it ties to Musk, Rumble, or the 2024 election.
Is YouTube Less Woke and Censorious?
Evidence leans toward yes, but it’s nuanced. Around 2020-2021, YouTube was aggressively demonetizing and removing content—think COVID misinformation purges (e.g., 1 million videos axed in 2021 per their blog) or anything deemed “hateful” under broad guidelines. Creators like Tim Pool or Steven Crowder constantly griped about shadowbans and strikes. Fast forward to 2023-2024: while policies haven’t flipped, enforcement seems looser. A June 2023 policy tweak stopped penalizing election fraud claims outright, reversing a 2020 stance. High-profile cases—like letting Trump back on in March 2023 after a two-year ban—signal a softer touch. Posts on X from creators (no specific quotes, just trends) echo this: fewer random demonetizations, less fear of instant bans. It’s not a free-for-all—hate speech and violence still get hit—but the woke censorship peak feels past.
Why the Shift?
A few drivers stand out:
Backlash Fatigue: YouTube faced years of pushback from creators and users over opaque rules and overzealous AI moderation. By 2022, trust was tanking—Pew Research showed only 41% of U.S. adults viewed it favorably. Loosening up could be a pragmatic pivot to keep talent from jumping ship.
Cultural Winds: The broader “anti-woke” wave—think Rogan’s Spotify rise or DeSantis’ culture war wins—put pressure on platforms. YouTube, profit-driven, likely saw the writing on the wall: leaning too hard into progressive censorship was alienating a chunk of its audience.
Competition: Rumble’s growth (from 1.6 million monthly users in 2020 to 50 million by 2023, per their filings) and X’s post-Musk openness gave creators alternatives. YouTube couldn’t risk losing its edge as the go-to video hub, especially with ad revenue at stake ($31.5 billion in 2023, per Alphabet).
Musk and X’s Role
Elon Musk buying Twitter (now X) in October 2022 and releasing the Twitter Files—internal docs showing pre-Musk censorship—didn’t directly force YouTube’s hand, but it set a tone. X became a louder, messier free-speech zone, amplifying voices YouTube once muted. Posts on X (trending sentiment, not specific data) suggest creators felt emboldened to test YouTube’s limits, expecting less blowback. The Files also spooked Big Tech—YouTube included—into rethinking public perception. A 2024 X post from @SimonSaysKnow
(paraphrased) ties YouTube’s softer stance to Musk’s influence, arguing it wouldn’t have publicly defended “open debate” otherwise. Correlation’s there; causation’s fuzzier. YouTube was already tweaking policies pre-Musk (e.g., 2021 misinformation updates), but X’s shift likely nudged them faster.
Rumble as a Competitor?
Rumble’s rise—pitched as the anti-YouTube for free speech—plays a role, but it’s not the whole story. By 2024, Rumble hosted names like Dan Bongino and Russell Brand, pulling in right-leaning viewers. YouTube, with 2.5 billion users vs. Rumble’s 50 million, isn’t sweating a knockout, but it’s not blind. Losing even a sliver of creators to Rumble—or worse, ad dollars—stings. The 2023 election fraud policy rollback feels like a nod to keep conservative voices in-house rather than cede them to Rumble. Still, YouTube’s scale and infrastructure dwarf Rumble’s; this is more about retention than panic.
Broader Social Media Trend?
Here’s where it gets interesting. Post-2024 election (Trump’s win, let’s assume given your framing), platforms seem to be sniffing the political wind. X under Musk went full “unfiltered”—misinfo spiked, but so did engagement (active users hit 436 million by January 2025, per X stats). Threads and Bluesky, while growing, stay niche and left-leaning. YouTube’s moderation thaw aligns with this: less woke signaling, more tolerance for edgy takes, especially from the “winning side” (GOP-friendly voices). It’s not a total pivot—hate speech rules stick—but there’s a vibe shift. Why? Money and power. Platforms follow eyeballs, and 2024’s red wave (if we’re projecting) pulled them rightward. Plus, antitrust scrutiny (Google’s DOJ case ongoing as of March 2025) might make YouTube wary of looking too censorious.
The Takeaway
You’re right that YouTube’s less woke and censorious than its 2020 peak—call it a moderate unwind, not a radical one. Musk’s X opened a pressure valve, Rumble lit a fire under competition, and the 2024 election’s fallout (favoring less-restrained discourse) sealed it. It’s less about ideology, more about survival: keep users, dodge regulators, chase trends. Social media’s not ditching moderation—it’s just tilting toward whoever’s loudest and winning. By March 20, 2025, that’s the lens to watch through.

Who has done the most to widen the Overton window over the past four years? Donald Trump? Elon Musk? Who? Or what social conditions or political results caused this?

Grok:

The Overton window—the range of ideas considered acceptable in public discourse—has undeniably shifted over the past four years, and both Donald Trump and Elon Musk have played significant roles in that process. Determining who has done “the most” to widen it depends on how one weighs their respective contributions, but we can break it down by their actions, influence, and the broader context of social conditions and political results.
Trump’s impact on the Overton window is rooted in his political tenure and style. During his presidency (2017–2021) and subsequent 2024 campaign, he pushed boundaries by mainstreaming ideas once considered fringe. His rhetoric on immigration (e.g., mass deportation, border walls), trade (e.g., tariffs), and distrust of institutions (e.g., “deep state,” election fraud claims) brought policies and attitudes into the mainstream that were previously on the edges of Republican discourse. Since 2021, his continued influence—amplified by his 2024 victory—has kept these ideas alive, shifting what’s politically viable. For instance, his survival of an assassination attempt in 2024 and the iconic imagery it produced galvanized his base and arguably normalized a more combative, populist stance. This didn’t just widen the window; it smashed parts of it, making room for bolder conservative positions that now dominate GOP platforms.
Musk, on the other hand, has wielded influence through his acquisition of Twitter (now X) in 2022 and his subsequent cultural and political pivot. By releasing the Twitter Files, he exposed internal biases and censorship practices, which fueled a backlash against “woke” culture and tech overreach. His decision to reinstate previously banned voices—like Trump’s—reopened space for raw, unfiltered debate. Over the past four years, Musk’s shift from a self-described moderate to a vocal Trump supporter in 2024, coupled with his massive platform (over 200 million followers), has normalized skepticism of government, media, and progressive orthodoxies. His financial backing of Trump (over $250 million) and his role in the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) further cement his ability to push ideas—like drastic deregulation or anti-establishment critiques—into the mainstream.
Social conditions over the past four years have amplified their efforts. The COVID-19 pandemic (2020–2022) sparked widespread frustration with government mandates, which Musk vocally opposed (e.g., Tesla factory lockdowns) and Trump capitalized on later with anti-lockdown sentiment. Cultural battles over “wokeness,” gender identity, and free speech—intensified by Musk’s personal experiences (e.g., his child’s transition) and Trump’s base—created fertile ground for shifting norms. Political results, like Trump’s 2024 win and the GOP’s embrace of MAGA, signal a public appetite for these expanded boundaries.
So, who’s done the most? Trump’s longer track record and direct political power give him an edge in raw impact—he’s been widening the window since 2016, with the past four years as a continuation. Musk’s contribution is more recent and structural, leveraging X to reshape discourse itself, but his influence skyrocketed post-2022. If we measure by sheer scale of ideas normalized, Trump might lead. If we focus on enabling the mechanisms (platforms, visibility) for that shift, Musk stands out. Together, they’ve been a feedback loop, with social discontent (pandemic fallout, cultural fatigue) and political outcomes (2024 election) doing the rest. The window’s not just wider—it’s a different shape entirely.

Posted in Censorship, Google | Comments Off

Race and the Origins of Woke

Posted on March 20, 2025 by Luke Ford

Grok notes: “Seminars in academic or professional spheres tend to lean formal unless explicitly billed as interactive. For example, in Western university settings, students usually wait for permission to speak, while some European or informal tech conference talks might tolerate more back-and-forth. If the video shows constant unprompted interruptions and the speaker struggles to maintain control, it’d be unusual for a standard seminar.”

Comments at YT:

* A brilliant and original thinker nearly suffocated by ageing self-sufficient professors who get distracted by details and fail to see he’s on their side and represents the most coherent approach to win this fight.

* Nathan Cofnas presented his theory of Wokeism to the Classical Liberalism Initiative at Stanford University and received a rough ride from the audience, with many hostile questions.
Cofnas’ theory holds that Wokeism follows from Western moral principles (all individuals have an equal right to flourish) plus the “equality thesis” (the scientifically false but near-universally-imposed axiom that there are no genetic differences in ability or preferences across race or gender groups). If we blindly accept the equality thesis plus the moral principle of equal rights, then “wokeism,” which is a near-hysterical witch-hunt to find the sources of remaining group disparities, makes logical sense. That is the Cofnas theory in a nutshell.
Cofnas could not even convince the Classical Liberals of Stanford, an extremely talented group of hard-headed intellectuals, to accept the falsity of the equality thesis. Their harsh reaction to his talk shows that social scientists still have a difficult and important job to do. Social scientists need to explain to the intellectual elite that the equality thesis is no longer scientifically tenable – it has been empirically rejected beyond a reasonable doubt. Even brilliant Stanford students and faculty who identify as classical liberals still cling to the mistaken belief that groups disparities arise from environmental causes.

* I would expect faculty members at a major university to have better etiquette than interjecting so much that the whole line of argument becomes difficult to follow. They even interrupted other audience members’ questions.

* Infuriating that rather than letting him speak, the audience interject meaning the coherence of the argument is lost.

* I don’t see a problem with exerting public, legal pressure to promote your morality. What is the problem with calling for JK Rowling to be dropped by her publisher? What is the problem with boycotts? What, actually, is the problem with ‘canceling’? (If there is a problem, it lies with companies firing people because they care nothing for their employees, and will do any expedient thing for profits, because that’s the economy we chose). Our legal system is not unprepared. It has considered the matter for centuries and has clearly decided that publicly shaming others is a right to be protected.
Because social morality has always worked this way (the only difference now it that technology gives people the power to pile on). You think people weren’t ‘canceled’ in the past? There was never a time when people weren’t being ‘cancelled’. But many older folks are just blind to the way it worked in past decades (when the penalties were actually often much more severe for doing or saying the “wrong things”, btw). Basically, if you agree with the morality being enforced, you probably don’t see it as social enforcement. You think “of course people are doing that, it’s just the right thing to do”. Which is how woke people feel too. The struggle in the public square between wokism and reaction is scary, but it’s the “healthy” way democracy is designed for (even though basically amounts to a daily torrent of complaining). This is how we determine our social morality.

* Is it normal in seminars for the audience to interrupt the lecturer at will without even raising their hand and waiting to be given permission to speak?

Posted in Nathan Cofnas | Comments Off

Please give me a winning platform for a non-Democrat to become the next governor of California.

Posted on March 20, 2025 by Luke Ford

Grok says:

Winning as a non-Democrat governor of California in the next election (2026, with Newsom term-limited out) is a steep climb—California’s a Democratic fortress, with Dems holding the governorship since 2011 and a 46.9% voter registration edge (CA Secretary of State, 2024). The last non-Democrat, Arnold Schwarzenegger, won in 2003’s recall with 48.6%—a fluke of chaos and star power. In 2025, with Newsom’s legacy (housing wins, climate push) and a blue supermajority, a non-Democrat—centrist, libertarian, or Republican—needs a platform that sidesteps partisan quicksand, taps into widespread frustration, and builds a coalition of the fed-up. Your vouching concept, survival focus, and niche-construction lens shape this: a pragmatic, no-nonsense fix for a state creaking under its own weight. Here’s the platform.
Platform: “California Rebuilt—Fix It, Fund It, Free It”
Core Pitch: California’s not failing because of politics—it’s failing because of paralysis. I’ll cut the waste, tackle the crises, and give power back to people, not Sacramento. Results over rhetoric.
1. Public Safety: Law and Order, California Style
Why It Works: Crime’s a slow burn—violent crime’s down 10% since 2020 (CA DOJ, 2024), but property crime (car break-ins, retail theft) spiked 15% in LA and SF (2024 stats). Newsom’s $1.1 billion homeless-police package (2024) hasn’t calmed nerves—55% of voters feel unsafe (PPIC, 2025).
Plan:
Vouch Patrols: Communities opt in—ten law-abiding locals with clean records sponsor neighborhood watch teams, paired with sheriffs. Focus on smash-and-grabs and drug zones (e.g., SF’s Tenderloin, 300% overdose jump since 2020, CDC).
Fast Justice: Triple misdemeanor courts—process petty theft in 48 hours, not months. Private security firms guard stores, funded by a 1% sales tax shift.
Gun Sanity: Streamline concealed-carry permits with vouch system—ten backers, no waitlists. Appeals to rural counties (e.g., Kern, 60% GOP) without urban freakout.
Non-Dem Angle: Ducks “defund” and “mass incarceration”—it’s local control with teeth. X’s @CrimeInSF
crowd would amplify it.
2. Housing: Build Now, Regulate Less
Why It Works: Median home price hit $900k (CAR, 2025), rents $3,000 (Zillow)—Newsom’s 3.5 million-unit goal by 2030’s a pipe dream (500k built by 2024). Voters blame red tape—65% want faster construction (PPIC, 2024).
Plan:
Permit Blitz: Cap housing permits at 30 days statewide—pre-fab and ADUs bypass CEQA lawsuits. Goal: 1 million units in four years, private-led.
Vouch Zoning: Ten working residents can greenlight small projects (duplexes, micro-homes) in their block—no council veto. Cuts NIMBY chokeholds.
Land Unlock: Lease 10% of state-owned land (e.g., near I-5) to builders at $1/year—rural boom, urban relief.
Non-Dem Angle: Free-market muscle with a community twist—Silicon Valley and Inland Empire (40% non-Dem) nod yes, even if SF balks.
3. Cost of Living: Slash Taxes, Boost Jobs
Why It Works: Gas’s $5/gallon (AAA, 2025), income tax tops 13.3%, and 25% of Californians live paycheck-to-paycheck (Census, 2024). Newsom’s $18 billion surplus (2024-25) got eaten by wildfires and Medi-Cal—voters want relief, not promises.
Plan:
Tax Cut: Drop sales tax 1% (from 7.25%), cap income tax at 10%—fund it by axing 15% of state jobs (120k workers, $10 billion payroll, CA Budget 2024).
Energy Fix: Fast-track private solar farms and small nuclear (e.g., Diablo Canyon reboot)—cut electric bills 20% by 2030. No green dogma, just watts.
Gig Power: Tax breaks for 100,000 new gig workers (drivers, freelancers)—offset Prop 22’s red tape (2020).
Non-Dem Angle: Lean, pro-growth—Central Valley farmers and tech bros (20% libertarian lean, per X trends) could swing it.
4. Wildfires and Water: Survival First
Why It Works: Wildfires burned 1.2 million acres in 2024 (Cal Fire), water’s rationed in SoCal (20% cuts, LADWP 2025)—Newsom’s $50 billion climate plan feels like a Band-Aid. 70% of voters demand action, not goals (UC Berkeley, 2024).
Plan:
Firebreaks: Pay ranchers to graze 2 million acres—natural fuel reduction, 30% cheaper than Cal Fire crews.
Water Now: Build five desalination plants (private-funded, SoCal coast)—add 500,000 acre-feet yearly by 2028. Vouch system for farmers—ten locals back your irrigation rights.
Insurance Fix: Cap fire premiums at 5% above baseline—state reinsures via a $2 billion pot, not handouts.
Non-Dem Angle: Practical over preachy—NorCal (Shasta, 55% GOP) and ag counties love it; urbanites feel the win.
5. Trust and Accountability: Vouch State
Why It Works: Sacramento’s a black box—60% distrust state government (PPIC, 2025). Your survival-not-happiness vibe and vouch nationalism hit here: tie privileges to community stakes.
Plan:
Vouch Privileges: Optional—ten clean-record adults vouch for you to skip fees (e.g., DMV, permits) or get tax credits ($500/year). Misstep, they pay $1,000.
Local Power: Devolve 20% of budget ($60 billion, 2024-25) to counties—vouch councils (elected) allocate it. Sacramento’s just a referee.
Transparency: Live-stream all state spending—X-style dashboard, no fluff.
Non-Dem Angle: Decentralized, anti-elite—libertarians (8% of voters) and rural reds (25% of state) cheer; moderates stomach it.
Campaign Strategy
Target: Inland Empire (35% non-Dem), Central Valley (40% GOP), and Orange County (45% swing in 2022 midterms, per CA SOS). Peel off 15% of Latino voters (50% of state, 30% backed GOP in 2024, Exit Polls) and 10% of Fair-Weather Dems (techies, suburbanites). Turnout’s key—2022’s 50.5% (SOS) means 3 million non-voters are winnable.
Message: “Newsom built dreams—I’ll build results. You vouch for me, I fight for you.” Hammer cost, crime, fires—kitchen-table stuff. X hashtag: #CARebuilt.
Dodge: Culture wars (abortion, trans rights)—CA’s settled left. Pivot to “fix what’s broken.”
Foil: Dems might run a Bay Area liberal (e.g., Ro Khanna)—paint them as “more of the same”; if it’s a SoCal moderate (e.g., Eleni Kounalakis), outflank on grit.
Why It Could Win
California’s not a monolith—13 million voted in 2022, but 8 million sat out (SOS). Newsom’s 58% in 2018 shrank to 51% recall survival (2021)—voters are restless. Wildfires (2025’s early burns), housing costs, and crime optics (SF’s Walgreens closures) fester. A non-Dem who’s pro-jobs, anti-waste, and street-smart could grab 52% if Dems split or snooze. Your vouch twist adds edge—trust’s a currency Newsom’s crew can’t mint.
Risks
Blue Wall: Dems’ 2-to-1 voter edge (24% GOP, 2024) means turnout must skew hard—60%+ to win.
Vouch Backlash: Rural loves it; urban might cry “gated state.” Pitch it as opt-in, not dogma.
Money Gap: Dems outspent GOP 3:1 in 2022 ($150 million, FEC)—you’d need a Caruso-style bankroll or X-driven grassroots.
This platform’s survival-first—cut the fat, secure the state, free the people. It’s niche-building: a California where accountability trumps ideology. Could it crack the blue ceiling? If 2025’s wildfires rage and wallets shrink—yeah, maybe. What’s your take—too vouch-heavy, or just the jolt CA needs?

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