Dear Mr. Prime Minister — Thank You for Protecting Us. Now Help Unite Us.

Dear Prime Minister Bibi,

This week marked a culmination of what may be your life’s mission: the security and success of the Jewish people. If reports are accurate, and you have indeed thwarted Iran’s nuclear ambitions—or even delayed them in a meaningful way—you deserve our deepest thanks. That would be no small feat; it would be a strategic and moral accomplishment of historic proportions. I say this as someone who did not vote for you, who has disagreed with you many times, and yet who still recognizes the remarkable things you have done for the people of Israel.

You may yet be remembered as one of the greatest Jewish leaders of the past century—if you finish the story the right way.

Of course, no one can forget or overlook the ongoing agony of the hostages still held in Gaza. It is a national wound that will not close. While I wish you had shown more responsibility for the lapses that led us here, I accept that doing so may not be within your political instincts. That’s unfortunate—but not surprising. What I do understand is the impossible position you are in: the moral obligation to bring them home versus the cost of strengthening Hamas. I don’t pretend to have a solution. But I know this much: leaving hostages in the hands of evil for nearly 700 days is a nightmare that haunts the soul of our nation. Please, continue to do everything—everything—in your power to bring them all home.

But that is not why I’m writing. My deeper concern lies elsewhere. Israel faces not one, but two existential threats. One is external. The other—arguably more dangerous in the long term—is internal.

We are breaking apart from within. With Israeli society divided around many core issues.  But the divide between the Hareidi community and the rest of Israeli society is no longer simmering. It is boiling. The refusal of the Haredi leadership to acknowledge any responsibility for sharing in the burden of defense, for participating in the civic project of the Jewish state, has pushed the public—both secular and religious Zionist—past its breaking point.

Our sons and daughters have spent hundreds of days in reserve duty, on the front lines of war, defending the lives of others. They return (those who return!) exhausted, grieving, often broken physically and mentally. And they hear voices from segments of the Haredi world that not only refuse to share the burden, but speak derisively about the very army that protects them. This is not only unjust. It is a desecration of Torah, of religion, and of the Jewish soul.

You did not create this imbalance—but you have deepened it. Now, you must help heal it.

The Torah tells us, “ואהבת לרעך כמוך” — love your neighbor as yourself. That sounds lofty, even unattainable. But maybe it means this: give your fellow Jew the same benefit of the doubt that you would want for yourself. Judge them favorably, try to understand their struggles, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. And yes—forgive, even when forgiveness feels undeserved. That is the Torah’s call to empathy and restraint.

And yet, the same Torah that tells us to love also commands: “הוכח תוכיח את עמיתך”—rebuke your fellow when necessary. Why? Because silence in the face of wrongdoing can become its own form of hatred. To care deeply is to confront.

So please accept this letter as a form of rebuke—but a loving one. One that I offer as I would want it offered to me: fairly, humbly, and with the full acknowledgment that I do not see all that you see.

But here is what I will choose to see in you—the best version of you.

I will believe that you have always understood that the internal fragmentation of our people is unsustainable. That Ben-Gurion’s original agreement for a few hundred yeshiva students could not apply to tens of thousands. That Israel cannot survive with two separate nations under one flag—those who sacrifice and those who do not. I will believe that you tolerated the current “status quo” not out of cynicism or self-interest, but because you had to. Because you were engaged in a long, secret, delicate campaign to remove a nuclear sword from over our heads. You knew that aligning with the Haredi parties would buy you political time and maneuvering room to focus on the existential threat of Iran. And you endured the criticism, the mockery, the political costs—for that purpose.

And now… you’ve done it. Or at least, so it seems.

And so, assuming your actions have been guided by this long vision, then now is the moment to turn inward and begin addressing the other existential threat—begin by firing the Haredi parties. I don’t know how you will do it without committing political suicide but you are a magician, I am sure you can figure out how to retain power by making a deal and you will have the support of the vast majority of the nation behind you on this issue. But it is clear that the Haredi leadership has flouted the ideals of what it means to be an Israeli citizen in this generation and they must be taken to task. Perhaps a rude awakening will force a change in the upper echelons of that society and pave the way for more practically minded leadership.

When you dismiss the Haredi parties and stretch out your hand to the broader  Zionist leaders—acknowledging that tradition and civic duty go hand in hand—you will be maligned by one group, but congratulated by the rest of the country. The Haredim will be forced to reckon with a new reality when they realize that they no longer have a lifeline in you. And you will finally tell them what you have always known: that their ideological refusal to share in the national burden was never your belief.

The country will rally behind you in the effort to rebuild from within. We will emerge stronger, more unified, and more dignified—not only in our own eyes, but in the eyes of our neighbors and the entire world.

Doing this will cement your place in Jewish history. That is how I want to remember you—not only as the man who protected us from the enemy outside, but as the leader who helped us rediscover one another within.

Please, let my dream be your reality.

With deep concern, and deeper hope,

A concerned citizen