Dear Friends,
I’ve just returned from a visit to the kibbutz where I lived for 12 years – where my daughter was born, where I still have beloved family, friends and community – and I found myself reflecting deeply on the past, present and future of the State of Israel this Independence Day.
Walking the familiar paths of the kibbutz, sharing coffee and conversations with old friends, I was struck by a profound sense of both home and heartbreak.
The Israel I once knew and still fiercely love – a place built on ideals of equality, community and justice – feels increasingly distant from the Israel I see today.
When I think of Israel’s founding, I think of the values that defined my kibbutz life: Shared responsibility, democracy, a deep belief in human dignity.
I think proudly of the words etched into our Declaration of Independence – how the new state “will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex; it will guarantee freedom of religion, conscience, language, education and culture.” That was the dream. That was the promise.
Living in America hasn’t dulled my connection to Israel. If anything, the distance makes the pain sharper. I remain deeply connected to the people, the land and the ideals at the heart of its founding.
And it is from this place of love that I must say: I am distressed.
Endless war. Occupation. An extremist government that seems more committed to holding power than holding onto democracy or getting our hostages home to families who have been in anguish far too long.
I see leaders determined to divide rather than unite, to marginalize rather than embrace, to ensure that Israel "lives by the sword" rather than strives for peace. I see a rejection of the foundational principles that made me proud to call myself a Zionist.
But even in the heartbreak, I found hope.
I stood in Hostage Square. I chanted alongside my peers at the Begin demonstration. I saw the faces of thousands who still believe, still fight, still love this country enough to demand better. I was reminded why my pro-Israel activism in the US matters so much.
Because the Israel we are fighting for is still there – in the streets, in the voices of dissent, in the peace advocates who speak out for the humanity of all, in the quiet resilience of everyday people.
The Israel I believe in is one that pursues peace, that embraces its Jewish identity not as a weapon, but as a source of spiritual and inclusive strength.
It’s a nation that remembers the power of community, that attends to the vulnerable, that doesn’t give in to despair even when the road ahead seems impossible.
That’s the Israel I saw glimpses of in the kibbutz. That’s the Israel I will continue to fight for – with love, with urgency, with hope.
Chag Atzmaut Sameach.
Yours in resolve,
Adina Vogel Ayalon
Vice President and Chief of Staff, J Street
