However, I am also mindful of the halachic principle that “One who is a witness cannot become a judge” – one cannot be truly impartial on a matter when one is personally involved. This is the second essential principle. Sometimes, it is the observer with distance and perspective, who sees most clearly. Jews in the diaspora are not merely spectators. We feel Israel’s joys and anguish in our bones. And we share the consequences of her reputation. Our voices, too, matter.
Both of these principles are applicable. One does not override the other. So how do we reconcile them? By recognising that context, intention and audience matter.
When Israelis choose to criticise their government they do so within a society steeped in the reality of a shared, uncertain fate. They play an important role in the cut and thrust of a rich and challenging democratic discourse. Israelis argue passionately. That is part of the vitality of the precious Jewish state. They do so as fervent Zionists, with deep love for their ancestral homeland and for the Jewish People.
But to try to replicate those arguments and disagreements in the national media of another country, particularly at a peak moment of global hostility and misinformation, and where the all-important context is missing, is to risk validating a damaging narrative – that even Jews no longer stand with Israel.
I don’t believe there is any doubt that British Jews are united on the fundamentals: Israel as the ancestral home of the Jewish People for more than three millennia, has a right to exist in peace and security. Hamas’ terrorism is barbaric and must be permanently ended. The taking of hostages is a despicable war crime, and every single one must be returned immediately. We are bound to Israel not just politically, but emotionally and spiritually. When she cries, we cry. When she rejoices, we rejoice. As we celebrate 77 momentous years of Israel’s existence, we stand in awe of her extraordinary achievements and the resilience of her people under the most trying of circumstances.
Of course, we sometimes disagree – about policies, leadership and strategy. Such disagreement is not only natural, but also healthy. However, the medium is as important as the message. Criticism levelled in a UK national newspaper is necessarily published without any of the accompanying nuance, complexity and context of the Israeli debate and offers no meaningful contribution to it. It may soothe the writers’ consciences but will do so at the cost of destabilising communal unity and misleading public opinion. Above all, it does nothing to move the needle where it counts.
These are challenges which are not always well understood by Israelis themselves, who occasionally call upon diaspora communities to enter the political fray in support or criticism of one side or another. But political polemic travels poorly. It can so easily be misappropriated, distorted and weaponised. We should be wary of such calls, however well-intentioned, because transplanting criticism from one political context to another can be ill-judged and damaging.
This is not a call for silence. It is a call for responsibility in Jewish leadership.
Mechanisms for diaspora voices to be heard constructively by Israeli decision-makers are growing in number. For example, President Herzog recently launched his “Voice of the People” initiative and this builds upon the longstanding institution of the World Zionist Congress, the work of organisations such as the JPPI and the more formal direct engagement with Israeli officials and private diplomacy. These create opportunities for representation, which do not run the risk of being taken out of context, or serving the cause of those who seek only to undermine and demonise Israel.
We must hold fast to our core truth: we are one people. Disagreement isn’t a threat to our unity, but division born of miscommunication and misjudgment is. We must find ways to disagree without dismantling the bonds that tie us together. Because wisdom, too, is a responsibility. And at a time when Israel is under fire both literally and figuratively, our greatest act of solidarity may be not silence, but wisdom.
