The Blogs: Jewish Political Power in America, Arab Political Exclusion in Israel

Reflections from an Israeli who has lived in America for nearly 30 years

This week, 19 members of Israel’s newly elected Knesset representing Arab-led parties were sworn into office. Together with the 48 members of the Jewish opposition parties, they represent a potential majority of 67 seats, enough to replace Netanyahu’s government. Yet despite their electoral strength, the legitimacy of Arab parties as partners in governing Israel remains fiercely contested.

Across the ocean, last week’s American midterm elections offered a striking contrast, reminding us of the place Jews have come to occupy in American political life.

Jewish Democrats won important victories across the country. Josh Shapiro was reelected governor of Pennsylvania, and JB Pritzker won another term as governor of Illinois. Daniel Biss, the former mayor of Evanston, was elected to Congress. Amy Acton became Ohio’s first elected Jewish governor, and Jewish Senator Jon Ossoff won reelection in Georgia. With Democrats gaining control of both houses of Congress, Chuck Schumer, a Jewish senator from New York, may once again become Senate Majority Leader.

These victories are important at a time when some insist that Jews no longer have a home in the Democratic Party. But the larger story is not about Democrats or Republicans. It is about the remarkable extent to which Jews have become an integral part of American political leadership.

And it makes me think about Israel.

The recent Israeli election results present a possibility for replacing Netanyahu by a coalition of 67 Knesset seats – 48 seats held by the Jewish opposition parties together with 19 seats held by the Arab parties, Ra’am and the Joint List 67 seats.

But for that to happen, the Jewish opposition parties would have to accept something that should be self-evident in a democracy: that the votes of Arab citizens count just as much as those of Jewish citizens.

Jewish suspicion of Palestinians, including Palestinians who are full citizens of Israel, runs deep in Israeli society. Even among those who consider themselves liberal, democratic, political partnership with Arab parties is often treated as illegitimate.

As a Jewish American, I cannot help thinking about this from the other side of the ocean.

We American Jews are a small minority, only 3% of Americans, with a long history of persecution, antisemitism, and collective trauma. How would we react if we could vote in elections, while our elected representatives were not legitimate partners in government?

Imagine if Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro, Bernie Sanders, Chuck Schumer, Adam Schiff, Brad Lander, Janet Yellen, Antony Blinken, and Jack Lew were regarded as people whose loyalty to America was inherently suspect. Or if Jewish Republicans and conservative officials such as Jared Kushner, Steve Witkoff, Stephen Miller, Howard Lutnick, Eric Cantor, Norm Coleman, and Lee Zeldin were considered unfit to serve in government or participate in political leadership simply because they are Jewish.

We would recognize this as a profound form of discrimination. And rightly so.

A mature democracy must also accommodate minority communities that organize politically around their particular identities, histories, and interests. The Israeli parliamentary system, for better or worse, is organized around parties that represent the diversity of Israeli citizenship. Political equality does not require minorities to abandon their distinct concerns or abstain when their priorities diverge from those of the majority.

American Jews offer an instructive example. Jewish organizations across the political spectrum, from AIPAC to J Street, advocate for policies and funding that reflect their understandings of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and America’s relationship with Israel. Critics question whether these organizations represent American national interests. It is legitimate to engage in interest group politics, it is the American way. And accusations of divided loyalty often stem from longstanding antisemitic prejudices.

Historically, American Jews also organized to help free Soviet Jewry. This was an expression of Jewish solidarity and particularism alongside a commitment to universal principles of religious freedom and human rights.

A democracy does not demand that minorities choose between loyalty to their community and participation in the political life of their country. So why should Palestinian citizens of Israel be expected to set aside their national identity, their connection to Palestinians in the occupied territories, or their concerns about Israeli military policy as a condition of being accepted as legitimate political partners?

Of course, these histories are not identical. American Jews are not a national minority with competing claims to the land, and Jewish-Arab relations in Israel have been shaped by decades of conflict, dispossession, and violence. But those differences do not invalidate the comparison. They make the question of political equality more difficult but also more urgent.

I recognize that Jewish suspicion of Palestinians is rooted in a long and painful history of violence, and fear, which cannot be dismissed. But history offers examples of societies that emerged from bitter conflicts and found ways to build shared democratic institutions. The American civil war lasted for. 1861 to 1865 and claimed the lives of around 700,000 people. Nevertheless the two warring sides have been governing to together. Northern Ireland and South Africa remind us that a history of violence need not permanently determine the boundaries of political partnership.

Some Jewish opposition leaders argue that disagreements over national security and the character of the state make cooperation with Arab parties impossible. While these concerns can be debated, no community should be disqualified from participating in government.

Jewish-Arab political partnership is not merely a coalition necessity to replace Netanyahu. It is an opportunity to demonstrate that Israel is a democracy not only for Jews, but for all its citizens.

Genuine partnership cannot mean simply counting Arab parliamentary seats to assemble a Jewish-led government. Arab representatives should have a meaningful voice in decisions about education, healthcare, housing, policing, public budgets, and the cost of living. But their participation should not end where questions of national security begin. They should also be partners in decisions about war and peace, settler violence, the occupation, and the treatment of Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza.

This is not only a moral demand, it may also be one of the last opportunities to slow Israel’s deteriorating international standing and address the growing threat of European sanctions in response to the continuing occupation of the West Bank and the devastation of Gaza.

But above all, such a partnership could be the beginning of teshuva, a process of moral reckoning, responsibility, and repair of our relationship to the Palestinians who have a deep and lasting connection to this land, and for the immense suffering and killing of their people.

In Jewish tradition, repentance is not simply an expression of regret. It demands acknowledgment of wrongdoing, a change in behavior, and a commitment not to repeat the harm. We cannot bring back those who have been killed or undo the destruction. But we can acknowledge responsibility and begin to build a different future.

As someone who grew up in Israel and has lived in the United States for nearly thirty years, I know that American society is far from free of racism, discrimination, or contradictions between its democratic ideals and its political realities.

But our Jewish history, and our experience as a minority, should teach us something fundamental about equal citizenship.

Democracy is not measured only by the right of the majority to govern. It is also measured by the willingness of the majority to share power with the minority, to listen to its representatives, and to recognize them as equal partners in shaping a shared future.

If we Jews demand that right for ourselves everywhere in the world, how can we deny it to Palestinian citizens of Israel?