The values of peace and human rights: A call for moral Zionism in times of crisis - opinion
But the time has come to fulfill this Zionism: To part ways with visions of eternal conflict, to return sons and daughters to their borders.
THE ISSUE under discussion this Passover, on the eve of the 75th anniversary of Israel, is how do we perceive the origin story of Zionism?(photo credit: YONATAN SINDEL/FLASH90)ByAVI DABUSHUpdated:
Just as Hillel responded to the prospective convert who sought to learn the entire Torah while standing on one foot with the core principle “What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow,” I would direct us to the above paragraph from Israel’s Declaration of Independence. It never fails to surprise and inspire me anew. It was written in even harder days (believe it or not!) for a state just emerging into existence.
Moments after the declaration was signed, it was put in a locked safe, and Golda Meir remarked that it might be the first and last act of the State of Israel. Yet, even in those dire days, the vision was not one of blood, fire, and pillars of smoke, nor of “by your sword you shall live” (Esau’s curse, which too many of our politicians have turned into a vision for Jacob’s descendants). Instead, it was a vision of extending a hand in peace and standing firm on the principles of equality and justice.
My Zionism begins there. V’idach zil g’mor – “the rest is commentary.” Now go study it. We are not a generation called upon to forge entirely new ways of thinking but rather to return to and implement the foundational principles of the activist Zionism that established this state. This is a Zionism rooted in the prophetic vision of social justice, human dignity, and aiding those in darkness. It is a Zionism connected to our shared forefather, Abraham – the common ancestor of Jews and Arabs in this land – who went out of his way to welcome strangers, waged war to rescue captives, and argued with God against collective punishment, even for the wicked cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. It is a Zionism inspired by Jacob, who prayed neither to be killed nor to kill.
In 2025, we face an extraordinary opportunity. Rabbi Akiva rejoiced, even as he suffered, that he could fulfill the commandment “with all your soul, even if it takes your soul” when he was executed by the Romans. Judaism warns us and sets boundaries against extreme self-sacrifice, yet our values are tested most profoundly in times of crisis. What wisdom is there in standing for human rights and international law (born out of World War II and the Holocaust and bearing significant Jewish influence) during times of peace and calm? The real question is whether we can insist upon and advance human rights for security detainees, for women, and for children, even when they are on the enemy’s side.
1,200 ISRAELI flags are planted amid the destruction in Kibbutz Kissufim, near the Gaza Strip, symbolizing the number of people murdered by Hamas on October 7, 2023. Wikipedia seeks to scapegoat Israel for its campaign against Hamas, the writer charges. (credit: Chen Schimmel/The Jerusalem Post)
What insight is there in speaking of equality and human dignity when it is popular to embrace Bedouins, Druze, or Muslim Palestinians who are citizens of Israel? The true test is whether we can comprehend the anguish of the sojourners, who mourn the loss of their family in Gaza and the West Bank, and include them in a broader Israeli identity during the bloodiest periods of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
My October 7 experience
For me, the real challenge lies in clinging to values of peace and human rights, even as a refugee myself. On October 7 and 8, I was under attack in my home in Kibbutz Nirim. Together with my family, we barricaded ourselves in safe rooms and shelters for over 30 hours, less than two kilometers from Khan Yunis. We survived the horrific massacre that claimed the lives of so many of our friends and neighbors. I emerged from this experience shaken and broken. We lost our home for months and remain displaced. We know hundreds of those killed, abducted, and missing – some still in Hamas’s tunnels of death as I write these words.
Ultimately, I returned to the explicit words of Deuteronomy: “I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse; therefore, choose life, so that you and your descendants may live.”
At first glance, the choice seems simple. In reality, it is bitter and excruciating. Yet this is the choice we must make. Do we sink into endless cycles of revenge, killing, and occupation, or do we choose life as the Holocaust survivors did, as the people of Rwanda, Ireland, post-war Europe, and post-Yom Kippur War Israel chose? For ourselves and our children, we must draw a clear line between wars of survival and security and the descent into a vision driven solely by force and violence – a line that is unbearably difficult but critical for our existence.
I am optimistic. In the end, Jews and Arabs, Zionists and Palestinians, will learn to live side by side because there is no better alternative. No one is disappearing from this land. The real question is how much blood and time it will take? My Zionism, in 2025, is precisely this: to fight with all our strength to ensure this happens soon, in a way that enables prosperity for my children and the children of the entire region.
Zionism in 2025 demands deploying all our resources – not only muscles and force, which are indeed necessary for defensive wars, but also cunning, wisdom, sensitivity, and generosity. These qualities are essential to fulfill the vision of the Declaration of Independence and forge regional agreements that can secure genuine safety for us and future generations.
Zionism in 2025 calls for the articulation of a clear and renewed moral-Jewish-Zionist vision, connecting the threads of the patriarchs’ ethics, the prophets’ vision, the Declaration of Independence, and the choices we make as sovereigns and power holders. The Torah is fundamentally about creating a different kind of sovereignty, one not reliant solely on power and brutality. It is easy to learn this lesson when one lacks power; it is far harder when sovereignty is in our hands and war becomes a way of life. But the time has come to fulfill this Zionism: to part ways with visions of eternal conflict, to return sons and daughters to their borders, and to open a new and glorious chapter in Jewish-Zionist life in the Land of Israel.■
The writer is an Israeli rabbi, peace activist, and executive director of Rabbis for Human Rights.
