Brothers and Sisters in Arms – Letter to the Editor

Ron Scherf

For years, I trusted Israeli democracy. I was 50, living with my family in Tel Aviv and working in Israel’s tech industry, and it had never crossed my mind that I might one day play a part in civil society, let alone help found an organization. Then, in January 2023, a newly elected government announced plans to pass a set of laws that would irrevocably weaken nearly all of Israeli democracy’s checks and balances. In other words, it sought to remove the limits on its own power. For the first time in my life, I felt threatened by the prospect of unlimited power in the hands of the government. In the days after the judicial overhaul was announced, I was on reserve duty, training recruits for one of the IDF’s elite units alongside fellow commanders I had served with for decades. We immediately understood that eroding Israel’s democratic foundations would tear the country apart, destroy public trust, and jeopardize its security. We decided to step forward before it was too late. We opened a WhatsApp group, called ourselves Brothers and Sisters in Arms, and became part of the broader awakening of Israel’s public. I have always served my country and stood up to defend it, including at the risk of my life. That same sense of duty is what drove us into the streets. We love Israel, and we understand that its security depends on our solidarity. Without democracy, equality, and freedom, people do not step forward to serve. Our motto was simple: the people’s army, one for all and all for one, can exist only in a democracy. So we set out to organize a march to Jerusalem in protest for Israel’s democracy. It was winter, with rain and mud covering the country paths. On the first day, only a few dozen people joined us. But the march captured people’s imagination, and by the third day, as we climbed the hills of Jerusalem, I looked back in amazement and saw a trail of more than ten thousand people behind us. Week after week, for nine straight months, Brothers and Sisters in Arms and other civic movements led hundreds of thousands of Israelis into the streets. We raised the alarm in every corner of the country. Tensions escalated as the police response grew increasingly aggressive. But we pressed on, building a nationwide force of supporters and sustaining civic resistance for months, helping to temporarily halt the proposed judicial overhaul. Then came October 7. At 6:29 a.m., Israelis across the country woke to the sound of sirens. Hamas had broken through the southern border and begun the brutal massacre of civilians. Once again, Israeli society did not hesitate. In the face of an external attack, people put aside internal divisions and came together. The government, meanwhile, was paralyzed and in shock. Ordinary citizens stepped in immediately to fill the vacuum. At Brothers and Sisters in Arms, we transformed ourselves within minutes into a civilian emergency response organization. Drawing on the infrastructure we had already built, we mobilized thousands of volunteers for nationwide rescue and aid efforts. We helped save people under fire, assisted evacuated families, and provided shelter, food, and basic necessities on a massive scale. What that moment revealed, more clearly than ever, was that Israel’s security does not begin only on the battlefield. It begins in the kind of society that knows how to come together, take responsibility, and act with initiative at scale. Israel’s universities, technological edge, and human capital are not separate from its security story; they are part of its foundation. They grow out of a liberal democratic culture that values open education, freedom of thought, critical inquiry, strong professional institutions, and a sense of shared civic purpose. Iran’s direct threat to Israel has only made that reality harder to ignore. Israel’s achievements in the current war with Iran are a result of education, academic freedom, technological entrepreneurship, and, of course, our togetherness. All these capabilities can grow only in a liberal democracy. This is Israel’s real source of power. Now, more than three years later, we are still fighting for our country’s identity. Will we remain a modern democracy, or will we become a messianic autocracy? That is what is at stake. We know that democracies are fragile almost by definition. Around the world, we see democratically elected leaders using democratic institutions to bring about slow but profound change. By weakening checks and balances, they gradually amass unchecked power. Loyalty to the leader, rather than to the country, becomes the decisive principle, and then there is no easy way back. This is how countries edge toward autocracy: not in one dramatic moment, but step by step. If Israel is to survive as a vibrant, democratic Jewish state in the spirit of the Zionist vision of our founders and the Declaration of Independence, a safe home for the Jewish people and a thriving democracy based on equality and open to all religions and beliefs, then the Israeli public must step up once again and participate actively in the democratic process. Confronting internal conflicts of identity while facing external enemies is not unique to Israel. But Israel’s life-threatening circumstances make especially clear that the social resilience needed to overcome them depends on the commitment and engagement of ordinary citizens. In Israel, our instinct to come together is our superpower. That is the Zionism on which I was raised. It is the Israel we want to reclaim. The outcome depends on us. That is why elections matter so much. They are the defining democratic moment — the point at which a free society can still draw a line, defend its institutions, and choose its future. In the next election, we will stand guard so that every citizen in Israel can vote freely, without fear, intimidation, or coercion. We are building the civic infrastructure needed to safeguard Israel’s democratic character and the integrity of its elections. I am a man of action, and so is this organization. Our strength is not rhetoric. It is mobilization at scale. What began as a letter and a march became Israel’s largest civil society movement. What drives me is my love for my country, built by my grandparents’ generation, and my determination to ensure that my children can grow up here safe and free for generations to come.

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