The Oct. 7 Hamas attacks inflicted profound trauma on Israel, shattering a sense of security and leaving deep emotional scars. The fear, grief and fury felt by Jewish Israelis are not only understandable — they are deeply human responses to violence of staggering brutality. Hamas has made no secret of its goal: the destruction of the Israeli state. And it draws support from a population that, for generations, has lived under its rule and its narrative.
Navigating a response to such an enemy is a challenge of heartbreaking complexity. Yet even under the weight of this pain, national policy must not be shaped solely by fear.
A recent Penn State University survey found that 82% of Jewish Israeli respondents support the expulsion of Gaza’s residents and 56% favor expelling Palestinian citizens of Israel. Nearly half endorsed a biblical precedent for the destruction of enemy populations.
These sentiments, while born from legitimate fear, mark a perilous shift in the national discourse, one that risks moving Israel away from the democratic and moral foundations that have long set it apart in a turbulent region.
Israel has always existed in the shadow of existential threat. Oct. 7 was a brutal reminder of that reality. But responding to terror with the language or tactics of vengeance — through mass displacement, collective punishment or theological justification for domination — cannot bring lasting security. Power may deter violence temporarily, but it cannot, on its own, secure a just or sustainable peace.
In recent years, religious nationalism has moved from the political fringes in Israel toward the heart of government. Messianic ideologies that were once marginal now influence public rhetoric and policy. When figures like Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh are given platforms to espouse visions of Jewish supremacy and divine retribution, they do not merely express fringe theology, they help shape the national mood. Mainstream institutions have struggled to put forward a compelling alternative: a vision of Israel that is both secure and inclusive, both Jewish and democratic.
Recent policies — blocking humanitarian aid, normalizing incendiary rhetoric and infusing education with ethnocentric messaging — suggest that Israel is in danger of losing sight of its democratic core. The cracks in its liberal institutions are no longer theoretical. They are widening, visible to citizens and allies alike.
This moment demands serious, thoughtful leadership. There must be a clear distinction between necessary self-defense and actions that defy international norms or compromise human dignity. A commitment to protecting innocent life — Israeli and Palestinian alike — is not weakness. It is the moral clarity that gives strength to democracies under fire.
Israel’s leaders, both secular and religious, must articulate a future that does not depend on the exclusion or erasure of others. A future where Arab citizens are given an opportunity for full participants in the life of the state, and where Palestinians, even those under the sway of Hamas, are not viewed as a monolith beyond redemption.
This work will not be quick or easy. We have no illusions about the nature of the threat or the depth of the wounds. But abandoning the effort to imagine a more just society would mean surrendering something far more precious than territory; it would mean surrendering the soul of the nation.
Israel can do better.
