Love Knows no Distance

In this blog post, I explore the link between emotion and politics, and offer a personal reflection through the headline: Love knows no distance. 

A well-known German author and journalist recently released a new book in which he laments: “Nowadays, we can’t even go to the supermarket without being bombarded with emotions—because people love food there.” He’s referring to a popular German supermarket advertisement. “And influencers on the internet are nothing more than people trying to create an emotional connection with an audience that has purchasing power.”

Emotionalization has become crucial in politics as well. The best example? Donald Trump. His rise and the wave of support he continues to enjoy cannot be explained by logic alone. Trump was elected because it started with a feeling: Make America Great Again—bring back the good old days. Let America return to its place as the unchallenged world power. Keep all those foreigners who make us feel uneasy out. That’s highly emotional and deeply political. It’s just one example of how tightly politics and emotion are interwoven.

And yesterday, we witnessed another example. It was a quiet moment—and yet a loud one. The news so many had waited for over months, no, years, arrived quite unexpectedly: the remaining hostages were no longer in the hands of Hamas or other terror groups. The news didn’t come with loud headlines in my environment, but rather in cautious language, interrupted by tears, almost whispered. I hadn’t expected it to happen. In fact, back in November 2024, a friend and I concluded that the hostages had likely been tortured to death. Rarely have I been so glad to be wrong.

Twenty hostages, abducted on October 7, 2023, returned to Israel yesterday. They had been held captive for over two years—by Hamas: in tunnels, in basements, in darkness. Isolated. Beaten. Starved. Deprived of all dignity. They became symbols, not just for political demands but for profound human suffering. They are proof of what people can do to others when consumed by hate. Those released are survivors. And their return was not a triumphant march. Many were emaciated, their eyes sunken, their movements hesitant. They need to re-learn how to live in the light. They speak of beatings, of hunger, of unimaginable fear.

Only a few of those brutally murdered were returned. Hamas and other terror groups do not honor agreements—that, sadly, surprises no one. For far too many families, it was a day of final parting. Some will never have a grave to visit, no farewell ritual, no certainty.

Glimmer of hope.

On a political level, the release marks the start of a three-phase ceasefire plan, brokered by the U.S., Egypt, and Qatar. Israel committed to a gradual military withdrawal. In return, there was hope that all hostages—dead or alive—would be returned. And more than that: Israel not only agreed to a ceasefire and a military pullback, but also released nearly 2,000 convicted Palestinian prisoners. I’m not entirely sure I can agree with Trump that Israel has “won.”

But what is clear is that Trump once again appealed to emotion during his speech in the Israeli parliament: this time to the feelings of Israelis and their government. It’s another example of how emotion is used in politics across all sides. In this case, it seems justified: the negative emotion fear, worry, despair must now give way to something else. And yesterday, that shift was palpable—not only on the ground in Israel, but in distant corners of the world. Love knows no distance. As the saying goes:

Oceans separate continents—not souls or hearts.

This holds true in the big picture, in politics like yesterday. But also, in the small, the deeply personal. And still, there is a difference: politics is one thing—emotion, another. As Axel Hacke writes: “We’ve become incredibly sensitive.” And I agree. Everything today triggers an instant emotional reaction. Yesterday, that emotional reaction was justified—no doubt.

But today is a new day. The world has moved forward. Now, politics must find new solutions. Hacke also says that sometimes, we simply have to endure discomfort. We can’t always react as if we’re personally wounded. I agree with that, too. It’s good when politicians are human, when they shed real tears—like our chancellor did at the reopening of the synagogue in Munich. But when it comes to a process that is supposed to lead to coexistence, then emotions must now make room—at least temporarily—for people who can think more strategically, who can develop a plan that is actually implementable.

To be honest, I struggle to believe that such a plan is even possible. I’ve worked on this region, on this conflict, for too long. But maybe—I’ll be wrong again.