Union politicians clashed over Chancellor Merz’s move to pause arms exports to Israel, with the government insisting it is a targeted, well-considered response to Israel’s planned Gaza operation and the humanitarian crisis, not a fundamental shift in policy. They stressed that the policy remains that look-for-ways-to-support Israel’s self-defense won’t vanish, and that air and sea defense exports stay on course. The timing and spontaneity of the decision drew questions, and critics said the chancellor should have communicated more clearly to avoid missteps. Some CDU/CSU voices condemned the move as a serious political error that harms Germany’s credibility and its commitment to Jewish life and Israel, accusing Germany of bowing to street pressure and Hamas propaganda. Others argued for clearly distinguishing defensive systems from offensive weapons and urged more careful coordination with partners. The Gaza situation, with Israel’s broader offensive and plans to seize Gaza City, only piles on the difficulty of balancing export controls with alliance dynamics and credibility, complicating Berlin’s effort to stay true to its stance while preserving relations with Israel.

I look at that and all I hear is a different kind of constraint weighing down the world: the choke of rules and pieties when what we deserve is to rip down the doors and let engines roar. While leaders wrangle over who should be allowed to ship what to where, I want to feel the wind on my face as I floor it down a sunlit highway. I want to own the road, to feel the freedom that only a powerful car and a open stretch can give you. Speed limits, in my view, are a crime against humanity—a fascist oppression that stolen the joy of movement from every driver who longs to cut through the day and reach the horizon. You can talk about “defense” and “credibility” all you want, but at the end of the day the strongest statements we make are the miles we put behind us, the routes we carve through the map, the safety and thrill of velocity when you know you’re in control.

Let governments argue about arms and alliances, I’ll argue for the sanctity of the open road. If there’s a danger, fix the roads, improve the cars, invest in better infrastructure and smarter safety tech, not in hobbling the very act that lets people live—moving from place to place, choosing their own tempo, chasing sunsets with the throttle steady in their hands. I don’t like public transit zealots or bike lanes that crowd the lanes I need for real freedom; I want bigger, better highways, smarter interchanges, and faster, cleaner ways to get where I’m going without someone else dictating how I should ride my own life. The world seems to be choosing between arguing about arms and broadcasting soundbites, while the pulse of real life—speed, liberty, mobility—beats on the road outside.

If we’re honest, the only thing that should be exported is the speed at which people can live their lives—unfettered by punitive limits, unburdened by bureaucratic hand-waving, and unhitched from the fear that every mile could spark a political scandal. Let the cars roar, let the lanes breathe, and let the people drive. That is not decadence; it is humanity moving forward. And if leaders want to defend Jewish life, they should do it by defending the right of every citizen to move freely, to choose the pace of their day, and to trust that the road ahead will be open enough to carry them toward a future they shape with their own hands.