For decades, we Jews of the Diaspora have deeply wrestled with the question: Are we permitted to criticize the Israeli government? Now, as Israel’s government drifts far from its democratic heritage, as we see Israelis fleeing to us in the Diaspora rather than the usual opposite, and as the hostages are abandoned, it has become clear to us: something must change

For thousands of years, Jewish identity has been shaped by a profound connection to a homeland—sometimes physical, sometimes spiritual, but always essential. As a 52-year-old Jew of Turkish heritage, born in Brussels and a father of three, Israel has been at the core of my life. My journey began with a decade growing up in Habonim, studies at the Hebrew University, which involved being part of student movements, and eventually working within Jewish institutions. Throughout these experiences, I have positioned myself as a bridge—between my community and Israel, between Jews and non-Jews—attempting to explain that Zionism, like Jewish history itself, is built on contradictions.

The Foundations of My Zionism

I am often labeled a politically " left-oriented Jew" because I believe the ultimate goal of Zionism is for Jews to have a homeland that functions as a Jewish democracy within defined borders. This vision necessitates an Israeli state existing alongside a Palestinian state—there is simply no other viable path forward. This perspective has shaped my engagement with Israel throughout my life.

Since the Second Intifada, the Jewish world has grappled with a crucial question: To what extent do we have the right to criticize Israel's democratically elected government? The prevailing sentiment has often been that we can debate internally but must present a united front publicly. "Support Israel" became our mantra, manifested through involvement in Zionist institutions like Keren Hayesod (the Jewish National Fund) and participation in Yom Ha'atzmaut celebrations as part of pro-Israeli advocacy groups.

My own view has always been clear: Israel should be a "light among nations"—a place that, despite its imperfections, is founded on democracy, solidarity, and Tikkun Olam (a concept in Judaism, which refers to various forms of action intended to repair and improve the world). These principles form the basis of the bond between the Jewish Diaspora and Israel the land.

Simultaneously, I believe that as a free individual, I not only have the right, I am compelled by duty to publicly express concerns about Israel’s government and its policies that contradict my principles. The notion that diaspora Jews must blindly endorse every decision made by Israel's government has always been difficult for me to accept.

Why not embrace both positions? Celebrating the Israel I love, while criticizing aspects I find troubling; spending as much time there as possible while defending the values this small country represents. This balanced approach guided my relationship with Israel until 2020.

Three Watershed Moments

Three significant events have fundamentally altered the relationship between the Jewish Diaspora and Israel in recent years.

The first was the COVID-19 pandemic, which prevented Jews without Israeli passports from traveling to Israel. For the first time in 35 years, I couldn't return to Israel for two years—a shocking development for many Jews that created a sense of distance. The pandemic shattered the assumption that any Jew could freely enter Israel at any time. The Law of Return, the fluidity and ease of travel to Israel even during wartime—all were suddenly suspended. This restriction generated widespread frustration throughout Jewish communities.

Israel maintained COVID restrictions until late 2022. As life slowly normalized, a second watershed moment emerged: the judicial overhaul proposed by Netanyahu's government and the massive demonstrations it sparked.

Previously, debates within the Jewish world had centered primarily on the Israeli-Arab conflict and relations with Palestinians and neighboring Arab nations. But now, for the first time since Israel's founding, we witnessed an internal crisis that threatened to fundamentally alter the character of the State of Israel. Like many Jews worldwide, I was shocked and filled with uncertainty. Understanding the nature of this debate and its implications for world Jewry took time. We faced a difficult question: What can we do? After all, diaspora Jews don't elect Israel's government; we have no representation in the Knesset. Yet the democratic character of the state remains central to Zionism.

This development represented a significant shift in the relationship between diaspora Jews and Israelis. We began to wonder: Do our voices still matter? Have diaspora Jews been excluded from the conversation about Israel's future?

I personally decided I couldn't remain idle. I joined an organization that voiced support for the demonstrations from a European vantage point. 

Our first major event was scheduled for October 11, 2023. But four days earlier, the third watershed moment occurred—one that would shock Israel and change the world: October 7th.

October 7th and Its Aftermath

I woke at 6 AM that morning,  to my phone ringing continuously with red alert notifications. Watching Israeli news, I quickly grasped that something terrible was unfolding. Israel—my Israel—was under attack. Like countless others, I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

After the initial 24-hour shock, I felt compelled to act—reconnecting with Israeli friends, exploring ways to help. We rapidly raised funds and directed them to various medical institutions throughout the country. Our planned October 11th gathering transformed into a rally calling for the return of the hostages.

It was revealing to observe how certain senior Israeli representatives initially attempted to prevent hostage families from meeting with European officials, arguing that this was a time for retaliation rather than ceasefire negotiations to secure the hostages' release. I quickly recognized the contradiction between the dual objectives of eliminating Hamas and bringing the hostages home safely.

However, contrary to my earlier fears about a growing separation between Israel and the Diaspora, I witnessed something different: Israel needed the diaspora more than ever, and a renewed sense of shared peoplehood emerged.

A Personal Migration and New Perspectives

Following October 7th, my wife and I decided to leave Brussels and relocate to Lisbon, Portugal. I was astonished by the number of Israelis who had made similar moves—not from Brussels, but directly from Israel to Portugal. This migration dramatically transformed Portugal's once-tiny Jewish community, which had numbered around 1,000 people a decade ago but has since grown nearly tenfold, with half being Israelis, two-thirds of whom arrived in the wake of October 7th.

Today, as I observe this prolonged conflict that has evolved into a political struggle, I speak with friends in Israel across the spectrum—religious and secular, right and left, Jews and Muslims. As many others, I am troubled by the spiral in which Israel finds itself. Israel has often served as a political laboratory for the Western world; Netanyahu was among the first populist leaders to succeed in a Western democracy. In many ways, Israel stands at the forefront of the future of democracy in the Western world.

When I see the constant political debates and people protesting in the streets, I retain hope. But as the war continues, as hostages remain in captivity, as we hear increasingly extreme politicians describing how they intend to reshape Israel in their image, that hope is increasingly fragile.

One People, Indivisible

The fundamental reality is that we remain one Jewish people, with a 4,000-year history, comprising merely 0,2% of the world's population. Yet we are targets of more than half of the western world's racist violence. We simply cannot afford the current divisions within our community. What we’re crying out for is leadership —both in Israel and throughout the Jewish world—and at present, such leadership is difficult to find. 

The Path Forward

For many diaspora Jews, Israel has represented security—a guarantee that we will always be protected. Despite periodic terrorist attacks, Israel was perceived as the safest place for Jews to live. There was comfort in knowing that Israel would be there for any Jew in need.

The relationship between Israel and the Diaspora continues to evolve through crises and transformations. The sense of security that Jews worldwide once felt due to Israel's strength and resilience has been profoundly shattered by the events of October 7th and its aftermath. Rebuilding this foundation of security will take time, patience, and dedicated effort.

What has become increasingly clear is that Israel's future will directly determine the future of Jewish communities globally. For this reason alone, our voices as diaspora Jews matter more than ever. We must be outspoken—not only in supporting Israel's right to exist, but also in denouncing the policies of the current extremist government that does not seem to place the release of all remaining hostages from captivity as their number one priority.  

The traditional notion that diaspora criticism somehow weakens Israel must be rejected. On the contrary, it is precisely because we care so deeply about Israel's survival as a Jewish and democratic state that we must speak up when the government's actions undermine these very foundations. Our criticism emerges not from distance but from profound connection—a recognition that our destinies remain intertwined.

As we navigate these unprecedented challenges, we must reclaim the moral clarity that has sustained Jewish communities throughout history. This means holding fast to our values even when—especially when—they appear to be under threat. Only by embracing this responsibility can we help ensure that Israel remains not just a physical homeland but a spiritual and ethical beacon for Jews everywhere.

Nevertheless, our existence through the centuries has been nothing short of miraculous. The survival of Israel, surrounded by enemies, is likewise miraculous. I therefore believe that another miracle will emerge, allowing Israel to celebrate its centennial as both a Jewish and democratic state.

Claude Kandiyoti is a public activist and former diplomat, one of the leaders of the Geneva Initiative and the founder of “Kol Dor”.