In 1978, Prime Minister Menachem Begin made a fateful decision. He returned the Sinai Peninsula to Egypt in exchange for peace—a sweeping territorial concession from a leader known for his uncompromising Zionism.
Begin understood that real leadership is not about preserving the status quo. It’s about shaping the future.
Today, nearly half a century later, Israel faces a defining question: Where is it going? After 16 years of Benjamin Netanyahu’s leadership—interrupted briefly but always dominant—the country has grown wealthier, more militarily secure, and more diplomatically connected. But morally and politically, it may be drifting into dangerous waters.
A Doctrine of Drift
Rather than pursue bold agreements, Mr. Netanyahu has governed with a doctrine of conflict management—a strategy that avoids both peace negotiations and territorial withdrawal. The logic is familiar: the Palestinian Authority is weak, Hamas rules Gaza, and global attention is fragmented. Why risk upheaval?
And yet, this strategy—however stable it may seem in the short term—is slowly and surely closing the door on Israel’s founding vision: a Jewish and democratic state.
There is no serious talk of a two-state solution.
Settlements have expanded. Palestinians remain politically stateless and economically trapped.
If the goal is indefinite control without resolution, then Israel must reckon with the implications: creeping annexation, permanent occupation, and the moral erosion that comes with both.
Peace Without the Palestinians?
The Abraham Accords—historic as they are—did not resolve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. They worked around it. Arab states normalized relations without demanding a solution to the Palestinian question. This was hailed as a diplomatic victory, and in many ways, it was.
But ignoring the Palestinian issue does not make it disappear. It merely festers, waiting for the next eruption.
Begin understood that peace with Egypt would not be enough if the Palestinian problem remained unresolved. He offered, however limited, a proposal for autonomy in the West Bank and Gaza. It went nowhere, but the gesture mattered. It was an acknowledgment that the conflict required political attention.
Today, even gestures have disappeared.
A National Reckoning
Israelis must ask hard questions—questions we have too often pushed aside:
• Can we continue to define ourselves as both Jewish and democratic while denying millions a political voice?
• Can we govern another people indefinitely without being changed ourselves?
• Have we convinced ourselves that peace is impossible—or have we simply stopped believing in its necessity?
This is not a cry of pessimism. It is a call for clarity.
Israel is a strong, vibrant, and creative nation. Its achievements in defense, technology, and diplomacy are extraordinary. But strength without direction is not a strategy. And clarity without courage is not leadership.
I Am a Jew Who Loves Israel
Let me speak plainly.
I am a Jew who loves Israel.
I am an Israeli who believes in her strength.
And I am a human being who still dares to hope.
To love Israel is to believe not only in her right to exist, but in her ability to evolve. It is to hold both memory and imagination. Security and vision. Power and moral clarity.
Israelis are entitled—indeed, obligated—to think about the future. Not only in terms of immediate threats, but in terms of values, national identity, and the kind of society we want to build for generations to come.
There is no shame in realism. But there is power in hope. The courage to dream is not naïve—it is what built the country in the first place.
Because if we cannot answer where we are going, then no amount of strength will keep us from being lost.