Ongoing warning: On the way to the ballot box - we asked the wrong question

Every year we mark Tisha B'Av. We read the Book of Lamentations, recall the destruction of the First and Second Temples, speak of baseless hatred, hold discussions on the unity of the people, and promise ourselves that this time we have learned the lesson. However, the true test of Tisha B'Av begins precisely months later, when life returns to its course. This year, this test will arrive in the month of Cheshvan.

On October 27, the citizens of Israel will elect the Knesset. It is possible that these will be the most difficult, sensitive, and divisive elections since the founding of the state. Almost every central issue in Israeli society is expected to stand at the center of the debate: security, religion and state, the judicial system, responsibility for the events of recent years, and military service. The election campaign will be stormy, as is appropriate in a democracy. But precisely for this reason, a particularly heavy responsibility rests on the leaders.

History teaches that societies do not collapse only because of enemies from without. Often, they weaken precisely when internal rivalry becomes more important than the ability to continue living together. There is no need to resolve the historical debate over the exact reasons for the destruction of the Second Temple to understand the broader lesson: a society that fails to maintain the boundaries of discourse and a sense of partnership may pay a heavy price.

Jewish history teaches that leadership is tested precisely in moments of disagreement. The leaders of the Return to Zion knew how to unite around a common goal groups that arrived from Babylon and other communities, despite deep disagreements.

Even on the eve of the establishment of the State of Israel, sharp debates took place regarding borders, the character of the state, the relations between religion and state, and the structure of political power. Ben-Gurion, Begin, and other leaders did not spare criticism of one another, but understood that there is a line that must not be crossed, a line that could undermine the very ability of the people to continue operating within the framework of one state.

To argue — without dismantling

History does not require us to give up on disagreement — it obligates us to know how to manage it without dismantling the common framework. Israeli democracy is not built on full agreement, but on the ability to contain disagreement. The question is not only who will win on October 27, but also what the State of Israel will look like on October 28.

Leadership is tested not only by the ability to win elections, but also by the way it manages the path to them. Words spoken in a campaign do not disappear the day after — they remain with the public, with the families, with the reservists, and with the Israeli street. Whoever deepens the rift to gain another mandate may discover that the political victory came at the expense of a national loss.

Precisely for this reason, the connection between Av and Cheshvan is not coincidental. Tisha B'Av is not just a day of historical remembrance, it is a constant warning. We do not mark it only to mourn what was lost, but also to examine how we behave as a society and as leaders. The question is not whether we will remember the destruction in ceremonies and on fast days. The question is whether we will know how to remember it even when we stand behind the curtain and choose our leaders, and above all, when the leaders themselves choose how to conduct the election campaign.

Ultimately, the election results can be changed in four years — but the ability to continue living here together we must not lose even for one day.

Prof. Ariel Feldstein is a historian in the Department of Land of Israel Studies and Archaeology at Ariel University.