To be free in our own land

“To be a free people in our land,” wrote Naftali Herz Imber in the text that became the national anthem, Hatikvah. It was a dream that has never been fully realized and has indeed slid further and further backwards recently.

Particularly in the past two years, the danger and threats to our freedom—both internal and external—have become evident. Despite the threats, we must not lose hope and action, the essence of Zionism.

After 77 years of our independence, we are less free to express an opinion, to protest, and to live according to our values and beliefs.

This did not happen by accident.

In the 77 years of Israel’s independence, which in its early years included military rule over Israel’s Arabs and, since the Six-Day War, 58 years of control over a foreign people outside our borders, the occupation is steadily taking over our freedoms. Like a large black cloud, it covers the entire land. The privilege of being free people in a place where others are not as free is a dangerous illusion.

The brutality of the police, the arrests, the interrogations, the attempts to take control of the Shin Bet as well, and the undisguised desire explicitly stated by the government’s private attorney to use it against the government’s opponents—all these are part of a framework that some among us thought we could keep only for our neighbors. Some thought it would remain outside the Green Line or, at most, be directed toward Arab citizens of Israel. Surely, we Jewish citizens of Israel were immune. But it turns out that no one is immune. The cloud of occupation—and the repression it demands—has reached us all. And maybe it’s good that we know there can’t be democracy with millions occupied.

This Independence Day will not be joyful. How can we rejoice as the government has abandoned 59 of our sisters and brothers? How can we celebrate national independence when our personal independence is being stripped from us? When the state cares for its cronies and neglects the citizens, when democracy is disintegrating and quickly becoming an empty vessel filled with something else—dark and violent. How can we rejoice against the backdrop of the terrible human disaster caused in our name in Gaza? Against the violations of basic human rights caused in our name in the West Bank and East Jerusalem?

Almost 150 years of Zionism will sink into the depths of emerging authoritarianism and Jewish supremacy if we do not create significant change.

I was born into the generation of the founders of the state—the pioneers who chose to build their home on the highest mountain on the Lebanese border and establish Kibbutz Manara five years before the establishment of the state of Israel. It was situated far from everywhere, in harsh conditions where the chances of success seemed slim. Filled with Zionist faith and a sense of mission, they believed that their duty was to lead toward the independence of the Jewish people in their land.

We received an education that emphasized hard work, contributing to the state, uncompromising Zionism, and promoting equality and freedom. This education guided us to carry on the legacy of our parents, to fortify and advance the Zionist vision, to advance and construct the state, and to remain prepared to defend it while advocating for peace, even if it meant sacrificing lives.

This is what I did during my many years of service, and this is what my children have done and continue to do.

But we always believed, even in the most difficult moments facing the horrors of terror and war, that our strength lies in Israeli democracy, mutual responsibility, Jewish ethics, and the aspiration for peace. Today, I can’t help but feel that these foundations are fading away.

The responsibility is also ours. 58 years since the occupation—we did not warn enough, we did not caution enough, and we did not shout enough. We knew that the occupation corrupts; we imagined that one day these practices would also be directed against us. We wanted peace—but we did not say, Enough!

We were part of the system and wanted to fix it, but we were afraid to break it, so we let others come closer to destroying the whole state.
Now we must fight, because soon it might be too late. Protest for a democracy where Arabs and Jews are equal and for an independent Palestinian state so they can build their own future.

These two things are intertwined. There is no democracy at home and dictatorship abroad; eventually, those who rule others by force will use that same force against their people.

We will be able to celebrate true independence only if we become a truly strong and democratic state. Only if we rebuke a government willing to leave our brothers and sisters as hostages in favor of taking over yet more Palestinian land. Such an outcome can only occur if we are successful in facilitating the creation of a Palestinian state alongside us.

The massacre of October 7th is a result of Hamas’s hatred and loss of humanity, but also a consequence of the “conflict management” policy, the desire to maintain the status quo instead of ending this conflict for good. This approach sanctifies stagnation over progress.

I understand that the argument that occupation corrupts fails to address our security concerns, particularly in the aftermath of October 7. However, we won’t be safe until we stop the causes of terrorism and resistance and join a large group of moderates who can fight jihadists and extremists of all faiths.

Only if we are brave enough to make the change, to move towards a future of two states, and to allow moderate Palestinian elements—with the backing of Arab states—to enter Gaza and create an alternative to Hamas and demonstrate success in the West Bank.

Only then can we begin to rebuild Israeli democracy and save ourselves from the fate of losing our independence as free people.

There is no better day than our Independence Day to choose the return of the hostages and the end of the war; there is no better day than Independence Day to choose to restore democracy and humanity. There is no better day than Independence Day to act toward a political settlement.

Only then will we truly fulfill the “two-thousand-year-old hope to be a free people on our land”.