We live in a culture that worships youth. We are told that innovation is a young person’s game, that risking it all is for those in their twenties, and that by the time we reach our golden years, we should be content to guard our health and our assets and watch the sunsets.
Morris Kahn, who passed away on New Year’s Eve at the age of 95, didn't just reject that narrative; he shattered it.
To the world, Morris was the billionaire behind Amdocs, a global technology company providing software and services for communications, media, and financial service providers. To Israelis, he was the visionary behind the country’s Beresheet space program, and a prolific philanthropist. To me, Morris was a close friend, partner, and role model.
If you look closely at his life, you realize something extraordinary: Morris’s most productive years, the years where he had the most tangible, positive impact on humanity, were his seventies, eighties and nineties. That’s when he made major investments in Israeli scientific research through the Weizmann Institute, Technion, and Tel Aviv University, launched SpaceIL and Israel’s Beresheet lunar mission, stepped up funding for college scholarships, the Jinka Eye Clinic and Save a Child’s Heart, provided treatment for children injured in the Syrian civil war, and supported women’s empowerment with The Genesis Prize Foundation.
I had the privilege of spending time with Morris in the company of other giants - Genesis Prize laureates like the late Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, human rights activist Natan Sharansky, President of Argentina Javier Milei, sculptor Anish Kapoor, and Pfizer CEO Albert Bourla. These are individuals who have shaped history, changed societies, and saved millions of lives.
Yet, it was fascinating to watch the dynamic in the room when they met with Morris. Without fail, I saw that these luminaries felt that they were in the presence of real moral greatness. Within the first few minutes, sometimes just after looking into Morris’s kind blue eyes, they were mesmerized by Morris’s heart, his sharp wit, and his radiating humanity.
There is a moment I witnessed in 2022 that I believe captures this dynamic perfectly. We were at a reception honoring Pfizer CEO Albert Bourla in Jerusalem. New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft was there mingling with Morris and a couple of other guests.
Kraft, who was 81 years old at the time, looked at Morris, who was 92, and said with total sincerity: "When I grow up, I want to be like you, Morris."
That sentence says everything. Even at 92, Morris wasn't "old." He was aspirational. He was still the person others wanted to become.
Why? Because while most men his age were slowing down, Morris was accelerating.
Consider the Beresheet project. Morris was well in his 80s when he drove the initiative to put an Israeli spacecraft on the moon. Most people at that age are worried about navigating their living room; Morris was navigating the cosmos. When the spacecraft lost contact with the control center shortly before landing on the moon and crashed, Morris didn't retire in defeat. He immediately announced the next attempt.
Consider how he chose to mark his own milestones. How does a billionaire typically celebrate a 90th birthday?
Perhaps a gala, or a luxury cruise. Morris celebrated by taking a delegation of Israeli doctors to Ethiopia to perform surgeries on blind children. While others might have looked back on a life well-lived, Morris was looking into the eyes of children who, thanks to him, could see their mothers for the first time.
The same was true for his environmental work. His crusade to save the coral reefs in Eilat wasn't a passive hobby; it was an urgent mission he undertook when many would have been content to simply vacation by the sea rather than fight to save it.
Purpose has no expiration date
Morris taught those of us who loved him a vital lesson: purpose does not have an expiration date.
He proved that "retirement" is a modern invention, and a poor one at that. He proved that wisdom, combined with resources and an impatience to fix the world, can be a force of nature. He welcomed his 95th year with the same curiosity and drive as his 25th.
The world mourns the loss of a great Zionist and philanthropist. I mourn the loss of a very dear friend who is one of the greatest inspirations in my life.
But while we mourn, we should also celebrate the blueprint Morris left behind. He gave us permission to keep dreaming, keep working, and keep pushing until the very end.
Morris Kahn ran through the finish line at full speed. He didn’t fade away; he worked until the light went out. And because of that, the light he kindled in this country, from the depths of the Red Sea to the surface of the moon, will burn for generations.
I know that right now, somewhere in the universe, Morris is already planning his next project. And I suspect that Robert Kraft was right: we should all hope that when we grow up, we can be just like him.
Stan Polovets is a cofounder and chairman of the Genesis Prize.