Why Israel’s independence day should not be a religious holiday

The past few weeks have been uncomfortable for British Jewry, although for many the anguish began long before antisemitism became a talking point in the national press. For leftwing Jewish people it has been particularly disheartening; it’s clear that a small but nonetheless present minority of self-described progressives have a blind spot to antisemitism. Since Jeremy Corbyn’s misjudged and offensive comment beneath an antisemitic mural on Facebook surfaced, signs of progress have at least been reassuring.

Labour’s new general secretary, Jennie Formby, has made it clear that booting out the cranks and bigots is now a number one priority for the party. The Labour leadership is meeting with the Board of Deputies of British Jews and the Jewish Leadership Council. Momentum has released a statement and set out plans for a training and awareness programme on antisemitism for all staff and elected officials, aware that what is needed is action, not just words. This week’s debate in the House of Commons should mean all parties now focusing on eradicating antisemitism wherever it is found.

In this process of introspection, however, the Jewish community must also ask itself some difficult questions. This Yom Ha’atzmaut – the date in the Jewish calendar that marks Israel’s declaration of independence some 70 years ago – there’s never been more urgency to have one particular debate. Because, while Corbyn’s decision to attend the Jewdas seder dragged a conversation our community has long had in private into the spotlight, the divides it exposed in our community are nothing new. How do we navigate the relationship between Israel and Judaism in diaspora communities? A resolution is long overdue.

For many Jewish people, Yom Ha’atzmaut is a day of celebration – an annual opportunity to affirm their support to a Jewish homeland as it currently stands. For others, however, it feels exclusionary – a holiday now being enshrined in the Jewish calendar that takes religion into the arena of divisive politics, not faith. In many synagogues on Wednesday night and Thursday, guest speakers will have been invited to talk about Israel and its significance, and Israeli flags will have been pinned to the walls as a night of dancing, food and merriment ensued. The prayer for the state of Israel will be read, as it is on a weekly basis. It’s a Jewish celebration held in the same regard as Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Memorial Day), but one that really only creates space for a certain type of Jew.

It’s all well and good to say you can be critical of the state of Israel without being antisemitic – and for those on all sides of the political spectrum it’s a mantra that should be repeated. But if we ourselves can’t distinguish between our religion and what is, even if widely supported, a political ideology, I can’t help but wonder how others will be able to. A nationalistic celebration of a modern state leaves little room for nuance.

Let’s not forget that Judaism has a long and proud history of dissent and disagreement, from how we observe our centuries-old rituals to the good-humoured Latke–Hamantash debate. When it comes to Israel, there has also long been division, from the Bundists of eastern Europe who rejected a Jewish state in the 1930s to the Zionist Federation today. Some Jews today are staunch supporters of Benjamin Netanyahu’s government, while others are deeply opposed to the occupation. There are those who want to see a one-state solution, while of course there are those who prefer two. None of those people are any less a Jew. After years in the intellectual wilderness, it’s possible that a new progressive Jewish movement in Britain will once again start forming in response.

In its current formation, Yom Ha’atzmaut does not make space for these differences, or for people like me, who don’t know the answers and want to question, listen and learn.

Of course, this can’t be overcome by focussing solely on a single celebration. It means thinking carefully and critically about our religious services. It means having an honest and open discussion about our leadership. It means looking at our youth movements, which, from my own experience, often leave little space for exploration and balance.

The chief rabbi of the UK, Ephraim Mirvis, wrote a piece in the Telegraph in 2016, stating in no uncertain terms his discomfort with non-Zionist, anti-Zionist or undecided Jews (and gentiles). “Zionism is a belief in the right to Jewish self-determination in a land that has been at the centre of the Jewish world for more than 3,000 years,” he wrote. “One can no more separate it from Judaism than separate the City of London from Great Britain.”

This way of celebrating Yom Ha’atzmaut implies there is a right and wrong way to be Jewish, even if unintended. This is the narrative that allowed Jonathan Arkush, the chair of the Board of Deputies of British Jews, to label Jewdas antisemitic on national television – despite it being both Jewish and a staunch campaigner against racism in all its forms.

Frankly, when there are unarmed protesters being gunned down in Gaza, it doesn’t feel appropriate to be waving Israeli flags and singing the national anthem, even if many involved are critical of the action taking place. But if people want to celebrate the formation of the state of Israel, they have every right to hold a street party, throw a dinner, wear white and blue as they dance the night away. But let’s make that a political choice (even if it has, to some, a religious aspect), not a fundamental part of the Jewish faith.

This is a process already in action – parts of the Jewish reform movement, for example, see Israeli independence day as an opportunity for debate. The rest of the community can do it too.

• Michael Segalov is the news editor of Huck magazine