When kinship and country connect
On March 23, Israel will hold its fourth parliamentary election in two years. Even though I live in New York City, and have been active in local politics, the Jewish state’s political future is of existential importance to me.
I have visited the Promised Land numerous times with my wife and 10-year-old daughter to see our relatives, most of whom live in the country’s liberal precincts. My daughter has bonded with her Israeli kin, and I hope this attachment fosters a liberal Zionist identity, making Israel her cultural home.
I am secular in outlook, but my wife is a Sabbath observer. On Saturdays, my family attends a synagogue that is associated with Conservative Judaism (a religious distinction, not a political one), and I am committed to our religious community. Nonetheless my Jewishness is primarily grounded in my identification with the Jewish state. I was raised to believe that Israeli society reflects upon the 14.7 million Jews dispersed around the world; that the country is the embodiment of our collective principles, aspirations, and character.
I am mostly proud of what Israel has become: a vibrant democracy that has undergone searching internal debates about security and human rights, resulting in both courageous compromises and nationalistic bullying. The country’s continuous self-examination dovetails with my American sensibility, which rests on the perpetual quest for a more perfect union.
A fully evolved democratic, pluralistic Jewish state, which synthesizes 4,000 years of Jewish history and culture, is my personal messianic vision. But West Bank settlers and their supporters, who adamantly oppose a homeland for millions of country-less Palestinians, as well as the ultra-Orthodox Haredi, who have been key players in successive right-wing governments, have pulled Israel far from this ideal.
The Haredi population represents only 12% of Israel’s total, but Haredi rabbis have been empowered to decide the nation’s religious matters. These extremists refuse to recognize Judaism’s non-Orthodox denominations, and give women no power in the ultra-Orthodox hierarchy (don’t even ask about LGBTQ Jews). Israel’s Supreme Court recently ruled that foreigners who convert to Conservative or Reform Judaism inside Israel can become citizens, but Haredi leaders vow to have their political allies undermine that decision.
It distresses me to contemplate my daughter’s disillusionment upon realizing that the religious authority of the country representing her faith regards her as undeserving of equality, and refuses to acknowledge that her synagogue, truly is one.
In the meantime, Israel’s control of the West Bank puts it on course to rule over more Palestinian-Arabs than Jews. Since most of these Palestinians would not be citizens, Israel would lose its democratic character. Jewish nationalists even endanger civil rights for the country’s 1.9 million Arab citizens, as evidenced by the 2018 “Nation-State Bill,” that downgraded Arabic from its status as an official language, and declared Jewish settlement a national value.
Jews of my daughter’s generation, reared with a multicultural outlook, would be hard-pressed to empathize with an undemocratic Israel. The emergence of an apartheid regime would undoubtedly complicate my daughter’s feelings about Zionism, especially if her peers regarded Israel as being unjust. As for me, waking up to a Jewish state, dominated by religious fanatics, overseeing a disenfranchised Arab majority, would be like growing up thinking your parents were model citizens, only to learn that they were really scofflaws. It would put the worthiness of my heritage into question, and make me feel estranged from the country that represents my identity.
Many of my co-religionists believe that it is morally suspect for Jews in the Diaspora to try to influence Israeli society. But this argument is often made by Zionist hard-liners, who are silent when foreign money pours into West Bank settlements and non-egalitarian yeshivas (religious schools). It would be intolerable for me to stand aside as the Jewish state slides into a state of moral decay, conflicting with my deepest beliefs. And liberal Jews of my daughter’s generation deserve a Zionist legacy for which they can be proud.
Over the years I have donated my time to J Street, an American NGO that lobbies Congress to support a two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and have given money to Shaharit, an Israeli organization that fosters cooperation between the country’s various factions, including between Haredi and secular Jews. There are many other not-for-profits doing similar work.
Polling predicts that Israel’s rightwing parties will triumph in the March 23 vote. But little remains stagnant in the Middle East.
Palestinian National Authority President Mahmoud Abbas, an inconsistent peace partner, is 85 years old, with no obvious successor, and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is under indictment for corruption. Meanwhile, disgust with Haredi political power is growing in Israel’s electorate. There will be more elections and opportunities for social change. It is up to Israel’s liberal Zionists, and their diaspora partners, to fight for the Jewish state’s future.