I recently took part in a Gesher delegation to Jewish communities in the United States. Meeting Jews who think differently from me was nothing new. What did strike me was meeting people who make a genuine effort to remain connected to their Jewish identity.
I met Orthodox, Reform and Conservative Jews, as well as many people who simply live their Judaism without placing themselves in any category. With some, I agree on almost everything. With others, on almost nothing. But there was one thing I could not ignore: the effort. They work at being Jewish.
In Israel, naturally, Judaism is in the air. It is in the language, the calendar, the streets and the news. There, it requires a daily decision. It requires investment. That journey made me think about another kind of identity: Israeli identity.
In recent days, a debate has erupted over Israelis living abroad who plan to travel to Israel specifically to vote in the election. This was followed by a Likud petition to the Central Elections Committee against an initiative offering free accommodation to voters arriving from overseas, arguing that it amounted to an improper benefit. Again and again, the same claim was heard: "You do not live here. You do not experience life here. You will not decide for us."
I think we are having the wrong argument
Intuitively, that argument sounds reasonable. After all, those who live here with the high cost of living, traffic jams, military reserve duty, sirens and the ailments of Israeli politics should be the ones making the decisions. But I think we are having the wrong argument.
I quickly realized that we are really debating something else entirely: not only voting patterns, with each side speaking from its own political position, but Israeli identity itself.
They argue Israel’s case in their workplaces and educational institutions, contend with hostility in the aftermath of October 7 and, in many cases, send their children back to Israel to serve in the IDF
We are not talking about every Jew in the world. We are talking about Israeli citizens who have chosen, at least at this stage of their lives, to live abroad. These are people who still hold Israeli citizenship, have family and friends in Israel and follow everything happening here as though they had never left.
They argue Israel’s case in their workplaces and educational institutions, contend with hostility in the aftermath of October 7 and, in many cases, send their children back to Israel to serve in the IDF.
Their Israeli identity does not stop at border control. Yet in public discourse, we tend to measure belonging primarily by a person’s address. That is a reasonable approach in many countries. But Israel has never defined itself as just another ordinary state. Israel is the nation-state of the Jewish people.
Both those who believe, as I do, that this connection stems from the divine promise of the Land of Israel and those who see it as a Zionist and historical idea generally agree on one thing: The Israeli story never began with a residential address.
Zionism did not emerge only from the Jewish community in Israel
Zionism emerged from a people scattered across the world who nevertheless viewed the Land of Israel as their national home. That is why it seems strange to me that in this debate, of all debates, we are adopting an entirely different view: Those who live here belong. Those who do not no longer do.
Nehemia Rosenfeld It is legitimate to debate where the line should be drawn, how many years abroad should matter or what conditions should apply.
But people who spend thousands of shekels, miss days of work, board a plane and fly for hours simply to place a ballot in the box cannot be dismissed. Indifference does not look like that. They may live far away, but they have not given up their Israeli identity.
Ultimately, that is the real question: not only who is entitled to vote, but whether being Israeli is merely a matter of address or also a matter of identity. If it is only an address, perhaps the critics are right. But if it is also an identity, then the nation does not stop at Ben Gurion Airport.
- Nehemia Rosenfeld is a Haredi communications adviser and a Gesher fellow.


