The Case for Understanding Each Other
I am Jewish, but I am not a Zionist. Identifying with Israel has become a key component of organized American Jewish life, but I never traveled there growing up, my family never found a niche in the local Jewish community and I dropped out of Jewish day school in third grade—and Hebrew school in seventh. Our religious practice was internal and we were devoid of any connection, cultural or otherwise, to the State of Israel.
So arriving at college and becoming part of the Jewish community through Hillel was a culture shock for me. Although I had discussed Israeli politics for a while, I was now encountering a level of cultural engagement with the Jewish state that was—and still can be—overwhelming. Most of the people I know at Hillel have been to Israel at least once and many travel there frequently. They often know a lot more about Israeli history and culture than I do, and I sometimes feel out of place.
No one has looked down on me because of my ambivalence toward Zionism, but I know that views such as mine often provoke disdain. Jewish communities approach every issue in terms of its being either pro- or anti- Israel, treating every issue that has to do with the Jewish State as an existential threat. While individuals and communities have the right to maintain such a strong connection, they often consider someone without that connection to be “less Jewish.” This is wrong.
It is ironic that Jewish communities are so worried about the de-legitimization of Israel that they delegitimize the views of anti-Zionists, post-Zionists or non-Zionist. Jewish communities tolerate and encourage vigorous debate on many issues, but not on Zionism; Zionism has become the hallmark of true Jewishness, the essential purity test. As a result, its proponents equate anti-Zionism with anti-Semitism. This outlook not only cripples our ability to deal with true anti-Semitism but also makes enemies of many groups with whom we could agree on other issues.
We need to recognize that our opinions on Zionism are based in part on our cultural upbringings. We should try to understand why different groups approach the same concepts so differently. That kind of understanding allows for mutual growth without obscuring or downplaying the areas where we disagree.
Right now, Jewish communal power is disproportionately in the hands of the pro-Israel crowd. The way to remedy this imbalance isn’t to question the validity of Zionism, but to assert the co-validity of other opinions by virtue of the intrinsic cultural differences that create them. Once we accept this, people like me who are ambivalent regarding Zionism—or my proud anti-Zionist friends—will not risk being considered any less Jewish because of our stances, and our opinions will carry no less weight than those of staunch Zionists. Zionism as a component of Jewish identity is deeply intertwined with our collective upbringing and experiences, and it deserves open discussion.
Understanding such differences will result in greater respect for divergent views, and will allow for greater collaboration between members of our community. In order to learn from someone, it is not enough to accept their right to hold their opinion; we have to understand why they hold it. If we do not meet this challenge, we will continue to marginalize and judge others.
A few weeks ago, I mentioned to some friends that I have essential problems with the idea of Israel because I am opposed to the idea of a religious state. One of my friends speculated that because I grew up removed from the culture of a Jewish community, I have developed a Jewish identity based solely on personal religion and rituals and that I correspondingly view Israel in religious terms.
This was a revelation for me. This friend had explained how a fundamental difference in our respective worldviews and backgrounds led to our differing opinions. He had neither denied the validity of my viewpoint nor sacrificed that of his own.
He just understood me.
