Jews against Netanyahu cannot claim to speak for the majority

Yahoo

17-04-2025

Why does it matter if 36 British Jews disagree with Israel's wartime government? Readers of the recent letter published in the Financial Times, signed by a very small minority of members from the Board of Deputies of British Jews, might well ask themselves what the letter signifies.
Diaspora Jews feel a deep connection to the holy land, the Jewish homeland – the state of Israel. If 'God Save the King' rouses our hearts, Hatikva moves our Jewish soul. We can and do have deep loyalty to both. But if Israel was an 'insurance policy' against us being slaughtered again, October 7 proved that sometimes premiums go up. While it can be painful when they do, if you want continued cover, you just have to cough up and shut up.
Though I write sometimes on Jewish issues, I do not claim to represent some amorphous Jewish community. Many Jews agree with me, others do not. Our religion and culture values disagreement. But the FT letter marks a deeply regrettable moment – not because it expresses dissent toward Israel's government, which is every Jew's right, but because of the way it does so. It conflates political grievance with moral prophecy, presents personal ideology as communal leadership, and in doing so, likely misrepresents the views of many of us.
Let us begin with a necessary statement of principle: it is entirely legitimate for Jews and anyone in the world to criticise Israeli policy, including during wartime, even if potentially inadvisable or unhelpful. No country is above scrutiny, and Jewish tradition has long prized argument, debate, and conscience. But it must not – particularly in times of war – blur the moral lines between those who defend life and those who seek its destruction.
The signatories, just over ten per cent of the Board of Deputies, present themselves as speaking on behalf of British Jewry. They do not. Their views are largely drawn from a specific sliver of the Jewish world – primarily progressive, liberal, or Reform congregations – who are entitled to their opinions, but are not particularly representative of the broader British Jewish 'community'. Yet it is no surprise to many of us that British news outlets have jumped on this opportunity to show how even the Jews don't like Israel's actions.
The authors claim that 'Jewish values' are on their side – that war is inherently at odds with Judaism, and that diplomacy alone offers a path forward. But this is a selective reading of our tradition. Jewish values embrace both compassion and realism. The Torah commands us to pursue peace, yes – but it also commands us to defend life, to confront evil, and to understand that in a world where enemies plot genocide, force is sometimes not only justified but required. Ecclesiastes teaches, 'There is a time for war and a time for peace.' The signatories would have us believe that Judaism demands surrender. It does not.
Their central claim – that diplomacy alone, not military action, has saved hostages – is historically and logically flawed. Every negotiated release of hostages has taken place under the shadow of Israeli military pressure. The idea that negotiations occurred in a vacuum of force is a fantasy. Hamas has never released hostages out of goodwill; it has done so because it has feared the consequences of continued defiance. Diplomacy works when backed by credible strength.
Without it, there is no leverage – only wishful thinking. And if Benjamin Netanyahu is responsible for the 59 hostages still languishing in Gaza, he must also be responsible for the 174 live and 49 dead hostages brought back to their families. This is not just about numbers, it is about the acknowledging the whole, complex picture.
Most British Jews understand this. They have stood with Israel since it was attacked by a genocidal terrorist organisation whose charter calls for the extermination of Jews. They know that the true extremists are not sitting in the Knesset, but in the terrorist command centres and tunnels in Gaza and further afield in Lebanon, Syria, Yemen and ultimately in Tehran. And they grasp what the letter's authors do not: that the Israeli government did not 'choose' to return to war, as if it were an option freely available.
Rather, it resumed military action after Hamas repeatedly violated ceasefires, paraded hostages for propaganda, and rejected further disarmament proposals – even on the very day this letter was published the BBC ran the headline: 'Hamas rejects Israeli ceasefire disarmament proposal, Palestinian official says.' Ignoring these facts is not a difference in opinion – it is a refusal to deal with reality.
It must also be said, however uncomfortably, that airing these intra-communal disagreements in the national press is unedifying – and, for many outside the Jewish world, tiresome. It undermines Israel's moral legitimacy, and bolsters those who somehow think Jews disagreeing with Israel proves some kind of bigger truth. Yet for many, now it has been published, the letter cannot go unanswered – not to silence dissent, but at least to restore balance.
The deeper concern is ethical and strategic: a small group has taken a time of anguish and danger, and used it as a platform to vent political frustration against a government they dislike. That is their prerogative. But the dilemmas faced by Israel's leaders are excruciating. Every option is dreadful. But to pretend that there is an easy, bloodless alternative – while living safely abroad, far from the burden of responsibility – is not an act of conscience. It is an abdication of solidarity. This letter does not save lives. It does not free hostages. It makes the hard choices harder, and the lonely ones lonelier.
The letter does not speak for many of us. In a time of war, clarity – about who we are, what we believe, and whom we stand with – is not just necessary. It is an obligation.
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