The Day After Tomorrow
If I were writing this after the election results came in, and they were not to my liking, you could rightfully dismiss me as a sore loser. But I am writing this on Monday, October 26th, hours before the first ballot is cast. I am writing now because I believe this election is one of the most critical junctures for the future of Israel, not merely because of who will form the next government, but because of how that victory will be wielded the morning after.
It is no secret that I am desperate for change. I carry a vision for this country that I call “Pioneers 2.0.” I want us to build on the lessons of our first 78 years by paving a path where liberal democratic values are the unquestioned bedrock of our society and constitution. I envision an education system that honors the arts and sciences equally, nurturing our “Start-Up Nation” by celebrating neurodiversity and distinct learning styles. I want a society that rebuilds its welfare system with the understanding that we are truly only as strong as our weakest link; a society that rehabilitates the North and the South; and one that engages global Jewish communities as equal partners.
Yet, I know that tomorrow, millions of Israelis will head to the polls carrying visions for this country that differ vastly from mine. And this is where the true test of our national resilience lies. What matters more than whose vision prevails at the ballot box is how the victors choose to treat the rest of the country.
The greatest threat to our future is not losing an election; it is the toxic, destructive culture of the “sore winner.”
For too long, our political culture has been poisoned by a zero-sum mentality. A victory at the polls is too often treated as a mandate to gloat, to diminish, and to conquer those who voted differently. This winner-takes-all approach is tearing us apart from the inside. Whichever side claims victory tomorrow, the absolute worst thing they can do is revel in it. The process of rebuilding must start the second the polls close. A true leader looks at the defeated not as an enemy to be subjugated, but as a partner in the vital work of maintaining a nation.
If we are only as strong as our weakest link, it is equally true that we are only as strong externally as we are united internally. The ABCs of dialogue and community building require us to start from a single, unifying premise: every person casting a ballot tomorrow is doing so out of a profound, agonizing love for this country. We are all sacrificing to keep this place going. Validating that shared patriotism, even when we fiercely disagree on policy, is the only place healing can begin.
I know this is not a naive fantasy because I live it.
Nothing in our society has to be entirely binary. I have family members who are Orthodox Jews. In their world, female rabbis do not exist, and women do not have an Aliyah or wear a kippah. But my daughters do. When my daughters celebrated their Bat Mitzvahs, my Orthodox family did not boycott or judge; they knitted pink kippot for them and sat proudly as they read from the Torah. In turn, we found a great excuse to buy new clothes and spent Shabbat together, no electricity, no phones, no screens.
During times of intense political unrest, we have literally called each other from competing protests. We joke about it. We promise to try and understand the other’s point of view the next time we meet. Spoiler alert: no one ever convinces the other to change their politics. But every time I find myself sliding down the slippery slope of demonizing the “other side,” I am reminded of these brilliant, beautiful people. We agree on almost nothing when it comes to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the war, or the mechanics of our government, but our mutual respect and shared humanity completely override our ideological divides.
This localized “live and let live” model is the blueprint I wish for our entire country. It requires listening without formulating a rebuttal, finding the humanity in your political opponent, and choosing grace over vindication.
Tomorrow’s victors face a monumental choice. They can choose to gloat, perpetuating the division that is eroding our foundation. Or, they can reject the toxic allure of being a sore winner and choose the harder, braver path of community building. If we can find the courage to do the latter, tomorrow will not just be another election. It will be the dawn of a new day.
And if the results tomorrow don’t go my way? Well, please remind me of everything I just wrote—and don’t let me be a sore loser.
