Is the true Zionist ideal blind support of Israel, or loving criticism?

Protesters at a Tel Aviv demonstration organized by the families of the remaining Israeli hostages in the Gaza Strip, calling for action to secure their release and a ceasefire in the war against Hamas, on Aug. 26. Photo by John Wessels / AFP / Getty Images

“I love America more than any other country in the world,” James Baldwin once wrote, “and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.”

That is how I have come to feel about Israel. I love Israel and all of the people who belong to it, Palestinians and Jews alike. Which means I insist on the right to criticize, as an expression of my love, the institutional powers in Israel that have driven famine, slaughter and mass destruction in Gaza. To issue that criticism is not just to express love; it is to uphold the deepest meaning of Zionism.

Zionism is the indigenous liberation movement of the Jewish people, rooted in our inextricable connection to our ancestral homeland — a connection proven through historical, genetic and archaeological evidence. It’s a bond that survived two millennia of exile, as Jewish communities preserved their Levantine heritage while living in diaspora.

But to honor that bond also demands that we honor the roots of all who have similar histories in the land. The logic of Zionism, as I see it, leads to the conclusion that Palestinians — whose presence in this land is evident in their historic presence, lived culture and enduring identity — deserve justice, freedom and self-determination too.

For me, that belief easily coexists with many others that popular rhetoric on Zionism and anti-Zionism might have you think are directly opposed to it.

I affirm that Jews are indigenous to Israel; Hamas’ attack on Oct. 7, 2023, was an atrocity; and that Israel deserves sovereignty in a territory in the ancestral land of Jews. And I hold that Jews must be able to call out the barbarism of a far-right, ultranationalist government when it is ruling over our ancestral homeland, and has the power in the region to exact positive change.

For my Jewish and Zionist friends, we cannot deny that if what is being done to the Palestinians in Gaza were happening to our Jewish brothers and sisters, it is all we would discuss. As Jews, we are obligated to be lamplighters for the world. To fulfill that obligation, in this moment, means illuminating the ways in which Palestinians are facing a historic deprivation of necessary resources by Israel’s government and military.

It means, also, acknowledging that Hamas, which governs Gaza, is nowhere near free from blame. The group has caused insurmountable strife for the people they claim to represent, including by stockpiling resources such as food, water and fuel. They use their own constituents as pawns of war. They hate Jews and even cite the Protocols of the Elders of Zion in their 1988 charter. They are not to be admired or excused in any capacity. They are still holding innocent people — a dwindling number of whom remain alive — hostage.

But you can decry Hamas, and also see that the Israeli government bears the true responsibility to change things for the better in the region. If they have the power to tip the scales of war — which they do — they also have the power to tip the balance toward peace. Yet we have watched them prepare to embark on a new campaign of decimation in Gaza City; bomb humanitarian zones; and murder innocents waiting for desperately needed aid. Calling out these atrocities and injustices at the hands of the government and military of Israel is an expression of my deep connection to the land of Israel — not disdain for it.

The simple truth is this: Israelis and diaspora Jews are human beings who belong to the land. So are Palestinians in Gaza, the West Bank, Israel and the diaspora. Whether we call it Israel or Palestine, we both belong there.

This sentiment is tragically unpopular. Too many people, almost two years into this war, have visceral negative associations with any mention of the word “Zionist,” no matter the context or definition. They see Zionism as an expression of white supremacy and settler colonialism, enacted through the removal and devastation of Palestinians. The idea that it might have a very different meaning for many — that it instead articulates the Jewish drive for an autonomous homeland — is a concept they don’t know exists, or have been told to actively reject.

And too many Jews, including myself, were taught that Zionism and love for Israel means uncritically supporting the Israel Defense Forces and Israel’s government — and refusing to acknowledge that they have the capacity to oppress.

For those who believe in the need for a Jewish state in the Middle East, this can be difficult. When I feel rage at someone ripping down a poster of a kidnapped or murdered Jew, I have to remember to ask myself: “Did they do that because they hate Jews, or because they feel so much pain or anger that they do not know what else to do?” When I see antisemitic slogans displayed at a protest, or when my friends share hateful sentiments on social media, I feel myself regressing to a stance of defensiveness in which it’s hard to see the nuanced truth of the conflict.

But the fact that that work is hard does not make it any less essential. Being a true Zionist means following Baldwin’s instructions, and showing love for Israel by seeing it truthfully — not through rose-tinted glasses — with the resolve to face the injustices and moral contradictions bound up in it. It means holding Israel’s institutions accountable — not excusing their actions, just because they’re Israeli — and acknowledging the truths of all who call it home.