Minister of Defense
Mishael Zion

A song written by Israeli troubadour Ehud Banai, “Real or a Dream,” raises questions that many Israelis have wanted to ask their defense ministers. Where are you taking us? Where are we headed? Why have we been dragged out to unrecognized fields, in Lebanon, Sinai, Gaza? Can we hope that the ancient wind that is being renewed in the light-filled fields of Eretz Yisrael will become a soft welcoming breeze, or is it doomed to turn into the torrent of violence we've seen in our homeland time and again?

As Israel reaches its 60th birthday, I look toward a vision that might pull Israel out of the strange night. I hesitate, not wanting to produce a naïve vision — here, in Israel, where many a vision has crumbled in the face of a harsh, violent reality. Yet between bouts of Israeli cynicism, one such vision might look like this: In Hebrew, my job is called “Sar HaBitachon.” Bitachon translates not only into safety and security, but also into confidence and faith. How do we help Israel reach a place of bitachon, of confidence and faith?

Paradoxically, bitachon, I believe, will best be achieved by reducing the constant discourse about Israel's security — by shifting the spotlight on Israel from issues of securing life to issues of celebrating life. My goal as defense minister is to get Israel's defense concerns out of Israelis' faces so that we can reorient ourselves toward other pressing concerns.

Obviously, the first step is to reach a peaceful status quo and basic agreement with our Arab neighbors and, most importantly, with our “co-dwellers,” the Palestinians. After many decades in which ministers of defense believed that the only way to maintain security was by controlling other people's lands — in Lebanon, the Golan, Gaza, the West Bank, and the Sinai — we have recently moved to a different and radically simple defense strategy: we will protect our borders from within. Though this new strategy has yet to prove itself fully, as the citizens of Kiryat Shemona and Haifa, or those of Sederot and Ashkelon, can testify, I believe it will eventually become the best option for Israel and our neighbors. It is time to reestablish this country with clear and fixed borders.

Admittedly, it will be hard for Israeli Jews, and for Jews across the world, to readjust to these new borders. We will be forfeiting places in which some of our most profound historical events took place, including — in all probability — the place we consider to be the center of the world. Though relinquishing borders requires relinquishing dreams, memories, and expectations, it will allow us to build a new, fresh relationship with our country, state, and land — free of guilt, injustice, and the hilul haShem, desecration of God's name, that accompanies sacrificing life for “holy” space.

Maintaining safe borders will not be easy. Many experts believe that fences (or concrete walls) lead to good neighbors. This may have been a necessary first step. But if we are to maintain safe borders over the long term, we must build partnerships through joint industrial zones, centers of research and education, and places where we can share our contradictory historical narratives. Eventually, we might take down those fences.

Yet beyond all this lies a greater vision for the ministry. To date, the agenda and focus of Israel's defense (albeit an understandably dire concern), has prevented the country from creating a vibrant Jewish-Israeli culture — a just, multifaceted society, and a cohesive, minority-embracing, Israeli identity. My vision for the ministry and Israel's defense forces includes a process of tzimtzum, of contraction and constriction, which would allow other discourses — on Israel's defense and on broader issues such as Israel's identity, culture, and society — to surface. By removing the constant discussion about the fragility of the present, we allow people to imagine their futures in bold and creative ways.

Yes, the safety of our borders and the eradication of terror are of crucial importance. Yes, we take pride in our army, in its officers and its soldiers. Yes, we are proud to serve in the IDF, and believe that it really does strive to act as a moral body within harsh circumstances. But we must stop expecting the IDF to serve as the glue that connects Israelis to each other. The IDF cannot be, and should not be, Israel's “melting pot.” We shouldn't expect Israel's memorial day for fallen soldiers to be the catchall day for Israeli solidarity. Rather, let's build, enrich, and recreate Jewish and Israeli ritual and culture that doesn't center on threats but rather on possibilities, that doesn't linger on enmities but rather on covenants.

It is also time that Israel builds its relationship with Diaspora communities on shared memory, mutual respect, and a combined future, rather than on the basis of fear and insecurity.

Living in Israel, I have often felt that people are afraid to dream bold dreams here, since they are so bogged down in an insecure reality. But if we can re-center the discourse outside the language of threat, we can reinstate confidence and faith and the ability to dream. My vision for Israel is one in which no one remembers who the minister of defense is, because they are so busy dreaming and creating the possibilities inherent in the amazing, challenging, and paradoxical project that is the State of Israel.

Mishael Zion, 27, lives in Jerusalem where he studies and teaches at the Hartman Institute and the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies. He is co-author of HaLaila HaZeh: The Israeli Haggadah (2004, Hebrew), and A Night to Remember: The Haggadah of Contemporary Voices (2007, English). He is a Staff Sergeant (reserve) in the Israeli army, where he served in the Liaison and Foreign Relations Department working with the Egyptian and Jordanian armies. Next year he becomes the first Israeli to study at Yeshivat Chovevei Torah Rabbinical School in New York, N.Y.