Masha Gessen writes:

When your country pursues abhorrent policies, when the face it turns to the world is the face of a monster, what does that say about you? In my experience, it is strikingly easy to shrug off one’s responsibility for the country where one pays taxes, contributes to the public conversation and, at least nominally, has the right to vote, if that country is the United States. It seems one can just say “Not in my name” and continue to enjoy the wealth and the freedom of movement one’s citizenship confers. But as this country builds more cages for immigrants, deploys military force against civilians in city after city, regularly commits murder in the high seas and systematically destroys its own democratic institutions, that may change. It should change. What does one do then? How can one be a good citizen of a bad state?

On a recent trip to Israel, I talked to a number of Jewish citizens who have grappled with this question. In the last two years, as Israel has carried out a genocide against Palestinians and has all but dropped any pretense of democracy, many Israelis have come to dread telling people what country they are from. Some see this as unfair, having never personally supported their country’s far-right politicians or its prime minister, and having done what they could to change the course of Israeli politics. Others — a tiny minority — are grateful for the scorn of other nations, in hopes it can bring change to their own.

The people I sought out don’t agree on everything. But all of them have reckoned with questions of belonging and complicity, have wondered whether they should stay in their country, and have asked themselves what they are morally obligated to do to stop or slow the actions of their government. (About 20 percent of Israeli citizens are Palestinian, but for this article I spoke only to Jews, for it is in the name of Jewish safety and Jewish nationhood that the Israeli government claims to act.)

“In a free society, all are involved in what some are doing,” said Abraham Joshua Heschel, an American rabbi who opposed the Vietnam War and participated in the civil rights movement. “Some are guilty; all are responsible.” Michael Sfard, a human rights lawyer who has spent much of his professional life representing Palestinians in Israeli courts, has adopted this understanding. Over the years, Sfard has come to consider himself a dissident rather than a member of the opposition: There is no political party that represents his views, and it has grown increasingly difficult to pursue justice through the Israeli court system. And yet, he said, “As a citizen and a resident, I benefit.”

We were having breakfast at one of Tel Aviv’s myriad lovely cafes where one could have good coffee and fresh food while some 40 miles away people were starving. One could reasonably assume that many people at the cafe were at least somewhat uneasy about that starvation, but the discomfort wasn’t visible; what was, Sfard pointed out, were three different displays devoted to Israeli hostages in Gaza, who were still captive when we spoke. He had no objection to these displays, he hastened to add; it was the lack of any acknowledgment of the genocide that concerned him. Both the genocide and the obliviousness were policies of a state to which, Sfard stressed, he continued to contribute, “not just by paying taxes, but even now, as I’m talking to you, I contribute to an understanding of Israel, which Israel benefits from.”

Over the summer, Sfard told me, “I had to get away.” He and his family went to Italy. While they were there, some of the most dire reports of mass starvation started coming out. The distance helped put things in perspective. When Sfard returned, he wrote an essay that Haaretz, a left-wing newspaper, published with the headline “We Israelis Are Part of a Mafia Crime Family. It’s Our Job to Fight Against It From Within.” Many people look at the far-right ministers Itamar Ben-Gvir and Bezalel Smotrich, “these two petty fascists, who — unlike their Italian or German counterparts — have neither class nor aesthetics, only raw racism and sadistic cruelty,” Sfard wrote, and think, with relief, “This doesn’t represent us.” But, he continued, “the criminal, felonious, unforgivable project of Gaza’s destruction is an all-Israeli project. It could not have happened without the cooperation — whether through active contribution or silence — of all parts of Jewish Israeli society.” Admitting one’s complicity means being called to action, including action that many Israelis perceive as disloyal. Sfard called on his readers to get behind people who refuse to serve in Gaza, and to support sanctions, political isolation and international investigations into Israel’s actions. [Continue reading…]