Israel At A Crossroads

Israel is a deeply divided, deeply dysfunctional country. It has been moving in this direction for many years, and things have gotten progressively worse. I think we may be approaching a pivot point.

There's an old saying: "Two Jews, three opinions." We are a multifaceted people, and Israel is a wondrous expression of that diversity: an ingathering of cultures, languages, histories and religious orientations, from the ultra-Orthodox to the completely secular. The social, religious and political fault lines have always been there, and tiny Israel has had to find a way to accommodate all of them. Not an easy task.

But don't blame the people for their differences. Blame the politicians who have learned to exploit those differences, deepen the divisions and leverage them for political gain.

Which brings us to one of Israel's central dilemmas: Is it a Jewish state, or a state for the Jews and its other citizens, regardless of religion or ethnicity?

In other words, should it be a state in which Jewish identity and self-determination coexist with liberal democracy and equal citizenship? Or is it becoming a state increasingly governed by religious authority and an ethnonationalist conception of citizenship?

Israel began with democratic institutions and an aspiration to be a modern, pluralistic society. Yet for decades, it has been moving in a more religious and ethnonationalist direction, raising fundamental questions about the balance between Jewish identity, individual rights and democratic government.

Part of this shift is demographic. The ultra-Orthodox community is growing rapidly, through both higher birth rates and immigration. Its members tend to have a stronger religious motivation to live in Israel than many secular Jews do. Official projections suggest that the Haredi share of Israel's population could approach 30 percent by mid-century, up from roughly 13 percent today.

As religious parties have gained influence, particularly in Jerusalem and other areas with large religious populations, many secular Israelis have felt increasingly alienated from the country they call home. Some are voting with their feet.

According to figures based on Israel's Central Bureau of Statistics data, hundreds of thousands of Israeli citizens have left the country for extended periods since 2023. These figures require careful interpretation: leaving for several months is not necessarily permanent emigration, and departures alone do not establish a net population loss. Nevertheless, the increase in departures has intensified concern about whether Israel can retain the people, skills and civic commitments on which its future depends.

The complexion of Israel is visibly changing.

I first visited Jerusalem in 1991. The last time I was there was in 2010. It was like day and night. The first time, Jerusalem felt like a bustling cosmopolitan cultural centre. The second time, it felt like a mid-nineteenth-century Polish shtetl.

The political divisions have changed, too.

At Israel's founding, ideological differences were fierce, but political alliances could cross boundaries that now seem almost impossible to bridge. David Ben-Gurion's early governments included religious parties alongside secular Socialist-Zionists. The opposition, meanwhile, included parties associated with the communist left and the kibbutz movement.

Compare that to the most recent election.

The most remarkable shift has been the rise of the Arab parties. The Joint List, an alliance of predominantly Arab and non-Zionist parties, has emerged as a significant force (12 seats). Its priorities include civil equality for Arab citizens of Israel, opposition to the occupation and, among its constituent parties, a left-wing economic agenda.

Alongside the Joint List is Ra'am (7 seats), another Arab-led party with its own political approach. Together, the Arab parties could hold the parliamentary balance of power (19 seats).

For those who have advocated a so-called one-state solution, this is what it might look like.

Upon seeing the election exit polls, a work colleague whose ultra-Orthodox son lives with his family in Israel, said to me, "This is a disaster, the worst-case scenario."

Netanyahu's Likud and Gadi Eisenkot's Yashar, the two parties projected to win the most seats, have both rejected forming a government with the Arab parties. 

For too long, Israeli politics has been dominated by questions of security, both real and imagined: Who can best protect Israel against its enemies. Questions related to what kind of Israel we want to have have been pushed aside.

It is a sad irony that during this period of intense preoccupation with security, Israel suffered its most devastating security failure on October 7, 2023.

That, among other reasons, is why accountability is so important if Israel is to move forward. A country cannot learn from its failures, restore public trust or chart a new course without confronting the decisions and institutional shortcomings that brought it to this point.

Israel's founders had a vision for the country. It's time for a new vision to emerge. Because the question is not simply how Israel can survive the challenges it faces.

More importantly, it's what kind of country it wants to be. One that's worth protecting and saving.