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All my books are being translated into 77 languages in audio and digital form.

In the process, I discovered that in Hebrew there is no translation of the word "respect." There are words close in meaning — to honor, or to appreciate — but "respect," which means to recognize and honor the sovereignty (the undeniable right) of another person to be, or to think, different, does not exist.

If a word is missing, there must be a reason. I suggest that when a word does not exist, the behavior it would describe does not exist in that culture either.

In Israel, we do not appreciate each other's differences of opinion. We interrupt one another and try to win an argument rather than learn from the different perspective someone else might offer. Watch the debates in the Israeli parliament on television — it is embarrassing. Screaming. Interrupting. No one listens to the end of what others have to say. The same is true of debates on Israeli television.

Here is a second insight.

The word sentir in modern Spanish means to feel. In Judeo-Español — the language my ancestors spoke before being expelled from Spain in 1492 for refusing to convert to Christianity, and which many descendants including me, still speak — it means to hear, to listen, and to feel. One word for three behaviors.

I suggest that five hundred years ago, when a person heard something, he also listened and felt what was said. Notice it is also true for a dog. Today one can hear without listening or listen without feeling. We have become more fragmented and the more educated we are the more fragmented we are.

When I work in less developed countries, it is easier to communicate. People are more attentive to what is being said. When I address an audience of PhDs in the West, it is far more difficult — even on subjects they know well. The more learned they are, the less they truly listen. And even when they listen, they do not feel what is being said. They operate exclusively from the brain. The heart is not involved. And without the heart, there is no feeling.

A third observation.

In Russian, the word эффективный (effektivnyy) serves for both "effective" and "efficient." Russians must use several words to distinguish between the two concepts. Why do you think they have only one word? Is their culture deficient in effectiveness, or in efficiency?

And one more from Hebrew.

The word "effective" is borrowed directly from English in Hebrew. But for "efficiency," Hebrew has its own word: ye'ilut. What does that tell us about the culture? My suspicion is that Jewish culture is deeply E oriented, excited by ideas, llve to debate, and the pursuit of what one believes to be true. The actual implementation is less exciting.

A final example.

In English we say, "Life is give and take." Notice that "give" comes first. In Turkish and Arabic, the expression is reversed: "Life is take and give."

When you give first and take later, there is trust. When you take first and give later, there is none. And that difference illuminates much about the Middle East.

It tells us that in that region, a culture of mutual trust has not taken root — not only among Arabs and Turks, but among Israelis as well. After two thousand years of persecution, expulsion, and genocide, Jewish people live with a constant fear of the next existential threat. A people traumatized across two millennia of being murdered and exiled do not simply set that fear aside. Analyze Israeli security and foreign policy decisions and you will find fear at their foundation. And people who live in fear reach for power to solve their problems.

That is the tragedy of the Middle East. There is no trust among the Arabs — they live in tribes and suspect one another. They do not trust the Jews. The Jewish people do not trust the Arabs. Both sides therefore rely on power to feel secure. And power does not solve problems. It only makes them worse.

So instead of having a flourishing Switzerland we have a Yugoslavia.