Obedience

That little word seems simple but carries a heavy load of history, sweat, and blood. Here in Israel, where the air is thick with tension and promises, I ask myself daily why people obey. I’m not talking about blind obedience, the kind that yields to the power of fear, but the obedience that comes from respect, from trust. For instance, a mayor and his team don’t need an army to govern their city. They don’t need to patrol every corner with armed soldiers. Why? Because in some way, they represent what we’ve decided is right, what is ours. They mirror our values and our norms. And we, without even realizing it, obey because we feel we’re protecting something greater that belongs to us.

Now, this authority, this legitimate leadership, doesn’t impose itself. It is built. Brick by brick, decision by decision. When the rules are seen as part of a collective agreement, as an expression of what we want to protect, obedience is no longer a burden. It flows. In Israel, where every step is taken on a fertile ground of complexities, the leadership that makes a difference is the one that can translate our chaos into something that makes sense. A leader who understands who we are turns our desires into actions that unite us and make us feel we’re all in the same boat, rowing in the same direction.

Hannah Arendt, who always said that violence is the last resort of those who have already lost control, was more than right. When someone needs to use force, it’s because they’ve lost legitimacy. And in Israel, where authority is always on a tightrope, this lesson should ring like a constant alarm. True power doesn’t need violence. It inspires; it engages. It makes us want to follow, not out of fear, but because we believe.

And this is where Benjamin Netanyahu and his far-right gang come into the conversation. Instead of building this authority based on trust and respect, they prefer to govern through fear and division. They don’t inspire us; they divide us. They govern like those who know the ground is giving way beneath them, and so they resort to violence, be it physical, political, or social. They govern like those who have already lost the thread and can only hold onto power through force.

This is tearing us apart inside the country. Israel, which could be an example of vibrant democracy and pluralism, is becoming increasingly fragmented. Netanyahu, clinging to a policy that exploits our differences, moves away from what it truly means to lead. He’s not here to unite; he’s here to divide, marginalize those who disagree, and make us believe that the other side is the enemy.

And this failure of power, this need to resort to force, is not just our problem. Outside, the world is watching, and they see no longer that resilient and innovative nation. What they see is a country where democracy is eroding, where the far-right is corroding the foundations that should sustain us. The violence, whether against Palestinians or ourselves, only isolates Israel and distances us from what we should be.

Real power, the power that makes a difference, doesn’t need to impose itself with violence. When leadership needs that, it’s because it’s already lost the battle. Netanyahu and his group aren’t leading us; they’re holding us hostage to a fear they’ve created. And as long as this continues, Israel will remain divided within and discredited outside.

What we need, what I need, is leadership that understands true power comes from trust, from respect. Leadership unites us and makes us feel part of something greater and worth defending. Until then, we’ll continue to be governed by those who hold power in their hands but have already lost the power to lead. And that, my friend, is the most significant sign of weakness.