The events of the Hamas-led invasion and massacres on October 7, 2023, and the war that followed, brought fundamental questions back to the center of Israeli discourse – questions that for years had seemed to have already been settled.
What is the role of the State of Israel in the life of the Jewish people? To what extent can the Jewish people rely on the international community when it comes to matters concerning their security? And what remains of Zionism in an era in which Israel is a strong, prosperous state integrated into the international system?
Three years after that morning, it has become clear that Zionism, which has sometimes been portrayed as an idea belonging primarily to the era of state-building and pioneering, is not merely a chapter in the history of the State of Israel. It continues to provide an answer to fundamental questions concerning the condition of the Jewish people in the 21st century as well.
The revival of Zionism
Political Zionism was not born merely out of an aspiration to establish a Jewish state. It emerged from a historical diagnosis of the condition of the Jews as a people. Emancipation in Europe granted Jews civil rights; opened to them the gates of universities, the liberal professions, and high society; and gave rise to the hope that full integration into the broader society would gradually resolve the “Jewish Question.”
Yet Zionist thinkers understood that legal equality, economic success, and social acceptance do not necessarily eliminate the political vulnerability of a minority that ultimately depends on the protection of others.
As the years passed, it was precisely the success of the State of Israel that, to some extent, diminished the sense of urgency surrounding the idea that had led to its establishment. Israel became a regional military, economic, and technological power, while Jewish communities in the West integrated into society, academia, the economy, and politics to an unprecedented degree.
After World War II, an international system also emerged that placed, at least rhetorically, human rights, the protection of minorities, and the prevention of genocide at its center.
Under these conditions, it was easy to assume that Jewish history had entered a new era, and that at least some of the warnings on which Zionism had been founded had lost their relevance.
October 7 challenged that assumption
The images of families hiding for hours in their homes, civilians fleeing for their lives, and Jewish communities being attacked by terrorists brought back into Israeli consciousness scenes that seemed to belong to other chapters of our history.
However, the conclusion is not that Zionism failed. On the contrary. The events demonstrated precisely the profound difference between the condition of the Jewish people today and their condition throughout most of history.
ZIONISM DID not promise that Jews would not be attacked. It sought to ensure that when they were attacked, they would not be helpless.
This is perhaps the deepest expression of the meaning of Jewish sovereignty. When communities in Israel were attacked, there was no need to wait for the mercy of a foreign ruler, hope that another government would send forces to defend the Jews, or rely on the willingness of the international community to intervene.
The State of Israel, despite the terrible failure of that morning, was able to mobilize hundreds of thousands of soldiers and reservists, fight back, and defend its citizens. For centuries, that possibility was simply unavailable to the Jewish people.
Yet October 7 and the period that followed also raised another question concerning the status of Jews in the Western world. Many Jews, both in Israel and in the Diaspora, were shocked not only by the scale of the attack but also by the responses to it.
At some of the most prestigious universities in the West, the massacre was quickly translated into familiar ideological frameworks of “oppressors” and “oppressed,” “colonialists” and “indigenous peoples.” Instead of beginning with the facts and the moral responsibility of those who carried out the massacre, some rushed to interpret the events through theoretical frameworks in which the identities of victim and aggressor are almost predetermined.
The US congressional hearing in which the presidents of Harvard, the University of Pennsylvania, and MIT were required to answer questions concerning calls for the genocide of Jews on their campuses became, for many, a symbol of a deeper crisis. Institutions accustomed to speaking with great confidence about justice, equality, and the protection of minorities suddenly appeared hesitant precisely when Jews were the targets of threats.
For many Diaspora Jews, this was a deeply unsettling experience. Those who believed that their full integration into Western societies had made their Jewishness a secondary component of their identity discovered that, in the eyes of parts of the societies around them, Jewish identity still carries profound political and social significance.
Not because their American, British, or French identities are not genuine, but because Jewish history teaches that Jewish identity is not always something the individual alone can determine the significance of, in the eyes of those around them.
The international arena also exposed the limitations of relying on external institutions. Shortly after the massacres, resolutions were adopted at the United Nations calling for a ceasefire without including an explicit condemnation of Hamas. UN Secretary-General António Guterres stated that the Hamas attack “did not happen in a vacuum.”
Proceedings in international courts placed Israel at the center of some of the most serious accusations in international law, while organizations responsible for defending women’s rights struggled for a considerable period to give adequate expression to the evidence of sexual violence committed during the Hamas-led attacks.
THE CUMULATIVE picture recalls a truth that Zionism understood more than a century ago: the international community can be a partner, a friend, and an ally, but Israel cannot entrust its existential security to it. This was one of the fundamental principles of political Zionism, and since October 7 it has taken on renewed significance.
For generations, the Jewish people witnessed the rise and fall of kingdoms and empires, often without having any meaningful ability to influence the forces that determined their fate. They survived, and at times even prospered, but time and again it became clear how fragile their achievements could be when their security depended on the goodwill of others.
The State of Israel changed that equation. It does not guarantee that the Jewish people will not be attacked, that antisemitism will disappear, or that the world will always stand by their side. It gives them something more fundamental: the ability to act, defend themselves, and take responsibility for their future.
Three years after October 7, this is perhaps the most important Zionist lesson: the principle that the Jewish people are no longer mere spectators in their own history. Responsibility for our fate rests, first and foremost, in our own hands.
The writer is the deputy chairman of the Institute for Security Policy of the Israel Defense and Security Forum.