There’s nothing like a major tragedy to bring us together. I clearly remember Republican and Democratic members of Congress coming together to sing “God Bless America” on the Capitol steps after the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001.
Those same feelings of solidarity were palpable among world Jewry after the massacre of Oct. 7. Our shared trauma allowed us to set aside our differences and come together. One potent example was the November rally in Washington, D.C., that brought together 300,000 people, the largest gathering of Jews in U.S. history. We stood arm in arm: left and right, observant and secular, Trump lover and Trump hater, Bibi lover and Bibi hater.
Now, a year later, that unity has dissipated, especially among North American Zionists. Here are five major groups I’ve noticed us dividing ourselves into:
The “surge” Jews. Many American Jews came out of the woodwork to support Israel after Oct. 7. They were complacent before the massacre, thinking antisemitism was in our rearview mirror. But, alas, they saw how quickly Jews were attacked around the world simply for being Jewish. In Russia, rioters stormed an airport to attack passengers on a plane from Tel Aviv. In Italy, protestors shouted, “Open the borders so we can kill the Jews!” Across Europe, police arrested those planning terrorist attacks against Jews. And here in the U.S., the FBI says there’s been nearly a 400% increase in antisemitic incidents. The “surge Jews” have said, “Hineini, here I am, and I’m going to stand proudly with my people.”
Those who crave “normalcy.” Another subset of American Jewry is hungry for “normalcy.” They support Israel, but they want to send their kids to Sunday school and not have everything be about Israel’s war against Hamas, the hostages in Gaza or antisemitism. These Jews care about their Jewishness but want that part of their lives to center around Jewish holidays, culture and fun. They don’t want their Jewish identity to only be about Israel and antisemitism.
The Israelis. Every Israeli, whether living in Israel or in the diaspora, is in a state of trauma. Every Israeli knows someone personally impacted by Oct. 7: someone killed, kidnapped, brutalized, displaced or serving in the military and at war with Hamas (or Hezbollah). For them, every day is still Oct. 7. These Israelis are divided about trusting Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, about whether the priority should be freeing the hostages or defeating Hamas and about America’s political leadership regarding Israel. But those I’ve spoken to are unified in their support for the Israel Defense Forces.
Those who are “shtetling off.” Many Jews feel betrayed by their non-Jewish friends who abandoned them after Oct. 7. They are angry that old colleagues, roommates, teammates and even best friends have deserted them. And some, especially those who were born in other countries, don’t trust they will be protected by non-Jews. The explosion of global Jew-hatred has brought back painful memories from their home countries, so they’ve made personal protection a priority. These Jews are shtetling themselves off, cutting off friends they can’t trust and many of them are buying guns — even Jews in liberal Northern California.
The “progressives.” Finally, many Jews who identify as politically progressive struggle with their feelings about Israel. I am referring to the liberal Zionists, who believe Israel has a right to self-defense but are upset by the increasing casualties in Gaza. They believe the pain that both sides are suffering must be acknowledged and, perhaps because Israel is the stronger party, that the Jewish state should take the first step in ending this conflict. (I do not include in this category the anti-Zionist left who thinks the massacre on Oct. 7 is the natural result of colonialism and the Nakba, Arabic for “Catastrophe” — a reference to Israel’s War of Independence.)
Considering these five groups, we can see that the post-Oct. 7 unity is gone.
However, that’s not a reason to fret. Our people have never been on the same page. Since Jacob and Esau, we haven’t seen eye to eye. The Sadducees and Pharisees argued. Hillel and Shammai couldn’t agree on anything. The underground Jewish armies fighting to liberate Israel, the Irgun and the Haganah, killed each other.
So it’s not new that we are a divided people. But, as we commemorate the one-year anniversary of Oct. 7, we must recommit ourselves to focusing on unity not uniformity.
One suggestion for achieving that outcome is to create brave spaces for vibrant debate. We ought to set boundaries. For instance, I don’t think we should allow any version of hate speech (including anti-Zionism, which I believe is a version of antisemitism) — but aside from that, just about everything should be on the table.
It behooves us to move out of our echo chambers, to stop speaking in hyperbole and to embrace nuance. We should give a little grace to each other too because we’re all hurting.
Ultimately, we need to lay the groundwork to ensure that the day after this war ends, we will be prepared to help our people heal. That, in the end, is the meaning of “Am Yisrael Chai.”