After trust is broken

Spending a weekend absorbing information from so many exceptional and learned people, as we do at Limmud every year, is phenomenal. Every year, I come home at the end of the weekend with new knowledge and fresh perspectives. It takes a while for the learning to sink in and find its place in how I understand the world. 

And every year, I learn more in one weekend than I do in months. Sometimes, what I learn isn’t easy to assimilate. But that’s wonderful because I believe we should always be challenging our preconceived ideas and beliefs. How else do we keep learning and growing? 

One of the many focuses of this year’s Limmud, and one I was extremely interested in, was the coming Israeli election. Whatever my personal political preferences are is irrelevant because I don’t get a vote. What interests me far more is to understand what matters to Israelis and how the events of the past few years have reshaped the national conversation. 

It appears that for the first time in a long time, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu faces genuine competition. To date, the man has remarkable staying power, having served for a cumulative period of nearly 19 years across three separate stints in office. Other than monarchs, very few modern leaders have remained in power that long. Vladimir Putin, being one, has ruled Russia for more than 26 years, and Turkey’s Recep Tayyip Erdoğan has been in power for 23 years so far. 

Many Israelis believe they are safe today only because of Bibi. Others are gatvol, to borrow the wonderful Afrikaans term, and frustrated with him and his extreme right and ultra-Orthodox governmental bedfellows. 

While it was great to hear about the options at Limmud, it was clear that most parties with a realistic chance of success sit somewhere on the right of the political spectrum. I came to discover this weekend that talking about left or right wing, one is essentially speaking about where the party stands in terms of Palestinians and the future of the West Bank (or Judea and Samaria) and Gaza. 

Considering this, the left, as it used to be, has all but disappeared from mainstream politics. Security concerns have dominated Israeli society since 7 October and made conversations about a future peace settlement almost impossible right now. It has, for most people, been pushed aside by more immediate fears and priorities. 

For many among us, this may be frustrating. How can people not be considering peace? But listening to Israelis grappling with the aftermath of 7 October and the war reminded me that, for many, survival feels far more urgent than any long-term political vision. 

One of the most memorable presentations I attended was by Israeli archaeologist and historian Dr Yoram Haimi. He is a kibbutznik from the Gaza border. He wasn’t speaking as a politician or commentator, but as someone whose life and whose community was irreparably transformed on 7 October. 

As he spoke, I found myself thinking less about politics and more about people. About loss. About grief, and about trust. Nearly three years after that fateful day, his emotional and psychological scars remain visible. What struck me most was not his anger, although he spoke about that, but his heartbreak. 

This lifelong leftie and peacenik says he is still angry. He finds it difficult to move beyond what he sees as the ultimate betrayal by Palestinians whom he, his friends, and family trusted implicitly after years of working closely together on his kibbutz. 

It wasn’t just about taking sides, it was about them giving detailed, private information to the terrorists to enable them to commit the horrors of 7 October. 

Haimi described a profound collapse of trust, and listening to him made me realise how easy it is for those of us watching from afar to underestimate the depth of the trauma caused. For people who spent decades building relationships, encouraging cooperation, and believing that shared humanity could overcome conflict, the events of 7 October were more than a tragedy. They represented a devastating betrayal. 

Trust is an extraordinary thing. It takes years to build, but moments to destroy. 

So many of the Israelis living along the Gaza border were committed supporters of dialogue and coexistence. Many still want to believe there is a path forward. They still want to believe peace is possible. But wanting peace and believing it is achievable aren’t the same thing. 

The most haunting question raised during the discussion was also the simplest: even if peace remains the goal, who do you trust enough to begin the journey? 

I can also understand that Gazans who have felt the impact of the war are unlikely to trust Israelis, even if they hate Hamas. They’ve witnessed Israel destroying Gaza in order to take down Hamas. Clearly the pain is not one-sided. 

Acknowledging that there are no easy solutions, no direct or obvious paths to peace, is hard to swallow, but a reality. What I realised at Limmud was that speaking of a two-state solution and sitting at negotiating tables are worlds away from Israel right now. We were left with many uncomfortable questions and difficult realities. 

Security remains a dominant concern for Israelis. Ensuring that the vulnerabilities exposed on 7 October are never repeated is understandably high on the national agenda. 

Many Israelis are also frustrated by the exemptions granted to large numbers of ultra-Orthodox men and believe the burden of military service should be shared more equally. Concerns about judicial reform and the balance of power within Israeli democracy continue to feature prominently. 

Another issue that troubles many Israelis is violence by extremist settlers against Palestinians in the West Bank. For those who believe deeply in the rule of law, such actions are morally indefensible and fundamentally at odds with the values they want Israeli society to uphold. 

What I carried home from Limmud wasn’t a new political position. It was something more valuable. A deeper understanding. 

As I allow the Limmud learning to settle in my head, I still wish for peace, but have a better understanding of what the painful facts on the ground are – and they are complicated. There is nothing straightforward or simple about the situation Israel finds itself in. 

Shabbat Shalom 

Peta Krost 

Editor