Understanding the nature of Zionist policy means first of all understanding the voluntary, activist nature of the State of Israel. As long as it is Zionist, Israel, unlike other countries of the world, must view itself as the state of a people whose majority lives outside its borders. It bears responsibility for the safety, well-being, unity, and uninterrupted cultural identity of the Jewish people, and it must rely on the loyalty of this people—even if the scope of its sovereignty does not remotely match the burden of its duties. Needless to say, Israel’s situation is complex, full of conflicting interests and theoretical and practical challenges. But it must be stated, and emphatically, that the situation will remain viable only so long as relations between Israeli institutions and those of diaspora Jewry, and between Israeli and diaspora communities, remain strong and friendly. For as long as the Jews of the diaspora view themselves as a wellspring from which the Jewish state may continue to be built, as long as they view Israel as a vital source for their own flourishing, and as long as the Jews of Israel accept the diaspora as a source of support and inspiration, then the connection between the state and the Jewish people will hold. The moment this dynamic ceases, Israeli-diaspora relations will fall apart of their own accord. And the strengthening or severing of ties will have had nothing to with impersonal forces of nature. Rather, it will depend entirely on our free choice, one that must be constantly renewed.

This, I think, is Zionist policy in a nutshell. But it is worth pointing out some of its practical implications. First, Zionist policy expresses itself most practically in attracting and absorbing immigrants, since a Zionist country is one whose political, economic, social, and cultural character depends on immigration. Aliya is the centerpiece of Zionist policy. This is particularly important considering that the early Zionist prediction—that the diaspora faced a clear choice between immigration and assimilation—failed to come to pass in any decisive manner. After the establishment of Israel, most Jews chose to stay in the diaspora indefinitely, because they were either unable or unwilling to relocate. But many of those who remain in the diaspora are still faithful to their Jewish identity, even if only in part, and could well hold onto it for several more generations. This means that the Jewish people will not be concentrated entirely in the land of Israel at any point in the foreseeable future.

For precisely this reason, Israel as a Zionist state must focus on immigrant absorption, so that the arrival of Jews will not be an oddity but a continuous and permanent fact of lifeׁone that will embody the dynamic of Israel-diaspora relations and be the medium through which diaspora Jewry participates in building up the state, and through which the state supports the diaspora. If aliya is a fixture of Jewish life, even only in small numbers, then immigration will forge a tangible bond, a living link, among all parts of the Jewish world. It will ensure that Israel may continue truly to reflect, in microcosm, the entire Jewish people. This connection, between the diaspora and the Jews of Israel, will bring together relatives, friends, and acquaintances, so that unity and mutual responsibility will not be an abstract ideal, but a constant, conscious experience. Moreover, immigration to Israel will serve as a clear focus for Jewish education and Jewish social and cultural activity, because it will itself be seen as a realization of the lessons of Jewish education.

In all these senses, aliya is the consummation of the basic relationship between Israel and the diaspora. Israel must, therefore, prepare itself accordingly. Its part in this effort must be to encourage education for immigration and stand ready to absorb new immigrants. Of course, this means a willingness not merely to receive immigrants but also to attract them; it means ordering the economy and the patterns of its social life, especially in education, with the purpose of absorbing immigrants in a creative manner. It goes without saying that keeping prepared will affect all spheres of life in the country. In this way Israel can give the lie to the argument that Zionist idealism is something for immigrants only, while native Israelis do their part merely by continuing to live in Israel. In fact, the native-born Israeli who is genuinely a Zionist ascribes special value to his living in Israel and not elsewhere, and expresses his idealism by helping to attract and absorb new immigrants.

Second, Zionist policy must foster Israel’s Jewish identity, both in its institutions and throughout the population. In terms of foreign policy, this means that under no circumstances may Israel agree to any proposed resolution of its conflict with the Arabs that would threaten its Jewish majority or undermine Jewish sovereignty. Moreover, the State of Israel, while it contains national minorities whose democratic rights it must uphold, must nonetheless define itself as a Jewish state, a state that expresses Jewish nationhood and serves the national interest of the Jewish people. As for domestic policy, Israel must educate its next generation in the cultural heritage of the Jewish people, encourage ties to the Jewish people as a whole, past and present, and give voice to its Jewish nature in legislation and on the level of symbols.

Third, Zionist policy finds expression in the state’s ongoing concern for the welfare of persecuted Jewish communities in the diaspora, and its willingness to take every possible measure to prevent or alleviate the suffering of these communities. The government must make every decision, in both foreign and domestic policy, not only according to the country’s short-term interest, but also according to the impact it has on the lives of diaspora Jews and their relations with Israel.

And finally, a Zionist policy is one that reflects Israel’s character as an ongoing enterprise. That is to say, if Israel is truly faithful to its mission, it will not view its achievements as a finished product. It will see them, rather, as a means toward a mission that is, for the most part, unfinished. This is not mere rhetoric, or even a plea for consciousness-raising. I am referring to the basic orientation of Israeli society and of the individuals who constitute itׁin short, to the everyday life of ordinary Israelis. A state responsible solely for its own citizens can permit itself to set goals like raising the standard of living within the context of what is called the “welfare state.” But a state responsible for a people scattered all over the globe cannot afford to limit its aims in this way. It is directed not toward the present, but toward the future. The importance of such an orientation, with its cultural and educational implications, cannot be underestimated in the social life of a country.

There can be no doubt that adopting a Zionist policy means taking on heavy obligations. It will only sharpen external conflicts (between Israel and the Arabs, between Israel and those powers that support the Arabs) as well as internal ones (among various sectors of the Jewish people), and it will require sacrifice on the part of both the state and individual citizens. Why, then, must Israel choose this path? Why should we not rest content with what has already been achieved, and remain where we are? These are not idle questions; they are asked with urgency both at home and abroad. The outside world frequently claims that Israel’s insistence on absorbing immigrants and its intense ties with the diaspora give it the appearance of a colonialist “bridgehead.” Is not the meaning of a Zionist state the aspiration to expand ceaselessly, to dispossess another people of their homeland for the benefit of a European-American population? Does this not justify the Arab claims that Israel seeks only conquest, and that it threatens Arab nationhood in its entirety? And if so, does it not follow that if Israel relinquished its Zionist policies, the Arabs would then acknowledge that the Jewish population dwells in Israel by right, and might even concede the Jews’ right to national self-determination? At times we hear such arguments from Arab statesmen, usually as a diplomatic ploy, but at times with sincerity. And Jewish intellectuals echo them, as in Uri Avneri’s Israel Without Zionism.

But within Israel another question is raised, in all its seriousness, although usually indirectly: How long can the State of Israel withstand the terrible stress of a war for survival? Is the price in bloodshed worth paying? Would it not be better to give up on our national, spiritual, and cultural uniqueness, if this means a perpetual binding of Isaac, each generation sacrificing its sons on the altar of Zionism? Would it not be better to make peace, even at the price of assimilation, and save the lives of individuals at the cost of our life as a people? It is in the nature of things that such questions are not asked aloud. They are muttered, even whispered. Indeed, no thinking person is so strong-willed as never to contemplate such desperate thoughts. We therefore must confront them, with a clear head.