The lowest common denominator

The surprise of the elections is the party championing "No loyalty, no citizenship." One out of every eight voters (and if you discount the sectarian votes of the Arabs and the ultra-Orthodox, one out of six voters) reported for the Israeli loyalty roll call.

The new demand for loyalty is the natural continuation of our everyday, banal attitude toward the Arab minority. The Arabs are citizens, but to a limited extent. They face discrimination in the civilian realm, and they are excluded from the political arena and the Israeli experience as a whole. Yisrael Beiteinu's slogan did not change things. Rather, it bluntly articulated the facts of life in Israel.

The proposal to condition the Arabs' pseudo-citizenship on a declaration of loyalty runs contrary to the liberal-democratic discourse, which posits that even those who refuse to pay their debt to the state - for example, by not enlisting, not paying taxes, and not standing at attention during the national anthem - may keep their citizenship. We have not heard anyone demand that convicted murderers - not even the murderer of a prime minister - be stripped of their citizenship. An Israeli citizen who spies for the enemy - from Mordechai Vanunu to Udi Adiv and Yisrael Bar - remains an Israeli citizen in his jail cell. Citizenship is not a "payment" or a "punishment." It is the foundation, the cornerstone of the state's most basic covenant, which gives its laws validity.

It is clear that the Liebermanian sails were filled in part by the irresponsible hot air emanating from the extremist mouths of the Arab political leadership. Yet it is sad and frustrating to realize that mere words have kept many from seeing that the Arab minority is kith and kin to Israeli society. The Arab is the doctor who greets us at the entrance to the emergency room. He is the police officer who looks out for our personal security. He is the tracker who clears land mines while on patrol. Every person, Jew or Arab, has a name. Not just the name given by father, mother or deity, but a name given by the state - citizenship.

Minority status is the cornerstone of Jewish memory. In exile, we were victims of various loyalty tests - religious, civil, social and national. How is it that we have internalized our persecutors' norms?

The ethos of loyalty of Israel's Jewish society is not stable enough. We struggle with the question of the loyalty of ultra-Orthodox who do not serve in the army, of messianics who place religion above state, of migrants of convenience who do not share the Zionist ethos, of elites for whom the world is their home and Israel is just a temporary quarter. The preoccupation over the loyalty of Israeli Arabs is the psychological projection of an internal threat. The slogan linking citizenship with loyalty draws its potency from the widespread agreement on a lowest common denominator. The demonization of Arab citizens helps the Jewish citizens in their internal structuring of loyalty: Compared to the disloyal Arab, we all are loyal.

If Israeli Arabs do not believe in loyalty toward the state, that is not only regrettable but also must be remedied. All citizens must shoulder the burden in making the Israeli collective worthy of everyone's loyalty. This holds true for Arabs as well as the ultra-Orthodox, the post-Zionists and all the immigrants. This cannot be attained via a public loyalty roll call. As such, what is needed is an invitation for dialogue with the other.

Prof. Sagi teaches philosophy at Bar-Ilan University; Prof. Stern teaches law at Bar-Ilan.