When Freedom Stops at Israel
The West cannot champion liberty while denying Israel solidarity
Before explaining the bankruptcy of Western civilization to the rest of us, some of its more fortunate beneficiaries might consult the relatives who went to considerable trouble to get them admitted to it. Those relatives had left countries where poverty offered few exits and the police could remove someone from the supper table without troubling a magistrate. Their preference for a different arrangement was sufficiently pronounced to make them abandon their homes.
From the security thus acquired, their descendants can now explain that preferring one political system to another betrays a provincial mind. The parents apparently failed to appreciate this, though perhaps the necessity of escaping had impaired their objectivity. They thought there was something to be said for a country where an argument with the government could be conducted in public, without obliging the family to spend the following morning making enquiries at prisons. If this distinction has become too crude for their children, the children might explain what superior understanding has enabled them to dispense with it.
These freedoms were won from rulers and priests who knew what they would lose. Freedom of conscience permits a person to reject religion and publish his reasons without a cleric’s approval. Freedom of speech protects the citizen when the powerful prefer silence; agreeable conversation seldom requires constitutional protection. Both depend on institutions and people willing to defend them. Beneficiaries may refuse that duty, but they ask others to bear it and should admit as much before declaring the work beneath them.
Anyone who accepts this account of freedom must explain why, when Israel enters the discussion, his convictions disappear. Israel’s founding declaration commits the country to freedom of conscience and worship, and equality of social and political rights. If these principles justify defending a society elsewhere, their appearance in a Jewish state hardly invalidates the argument. Yet admitting that Israel deserves to survive is treated like a confession that might cost its author a dinner invitation.
When a jihadist movement announces its intention to govern through divine authority, it has spared us at least some uncertainty about the status it proposes for dissent. Its leaders claim the right to compel obedience to a power that cannot be questioned, with themselves conveniently appointed to interpret the instructions. Muslims who refuse that appointment have as much reason to resist it as anyone else, and may find themselves accused of betraying their faith for declining to surrender their judgement. The ambition extends beyond the immediate battlefield. Western governments should be able to recognize a common enemy without waiting for him to settle the question by attacking them.
Jewish history records what happens when survival depends on another government’s permission. Those advising Jews to entrust their security to others should name the protectors and explain why their goodwill warrants another experiment with somebody else’s survival.
No Jewish ancestry or religious attachment to Jerusalem is required to object to rule by armed men who treat disagreement as an offense against heaven. Their doctrine makes freedom conditional upon obedience, while its enforcers claim divine sanction. A Muslim who rejects this jurisdiction deserves the same solidarity as anyone threatened by it. Western enthusiasts for “resistance” might first ask what happens to those who resist the movement they applaud. The answer may complicate their next show of support, while giving them something definite to support or oppose.
Western commentary on fanaticism often discounts the fanatic’s own declaration of intent. He may state his aims plainly, yet observers safely beyond his reach insist that he means something else. Grievance and humiliation are cited until personal responsibility disappears from the analysis. His victims receive less sympathy. They are expected to explain their persecution while commentators avoid confronting the persecutor. Understanding an enemy’s origins can clarify his motives, but it should not require ignoring his words.
If a jihadist organization murdered Danish civilians and carried hostages across the border, the proposal that Denmark concentrate upon national introspection would deserve to be put directly to the captives’ families. Preferably by its author. The Danes would expect their government to recover the hostages and prevent another attack, and would expect help from countries professing friendship. Israel’s citizens possess the same claim to protection. Anyone disputing this should be able to explain the relevant difference without merely repeating the word “Israel” in a tone intended to make further argument unnecessary.
Americans, Europeans and Australians should deny jihadists the lesson that an attacked society loses its allies when self-defense becomes unpopular. Such a result would invite repetition and weaken assurances elsewhere. Aid to Israel should meet the standard we expect from allies. Anyone calling this excessive should imagine being told that help existed in principle, but domestic politics made providing it awkward. Promises made in safety mean very little when, beneath the sirens, families discover that friendship ends precisely where danger begins.
