Sabine Sterk: Echoes of Loyalty: When Nuance Becomes Betrayal
For most of my life, people have known me as one of the most relentless pro-Israel advocates around. For more than twelve years, day and night, without funding, without organizations behind me, without salaries or grants, I defended Israel in conversations, online battles, interviews, debates, articles, and private discussions that often lasted until sunrise. I did not do it because it was fashionable. Trust me, it was never fashionable. I did not do it because I wanted approval or because I wanted to belong to a tribe. If anything, my advocacy isolated me from people.
I lost two relationships because of my activism. Real relationships. Love stories that could have become a future. I lost jobs because employers considered my outspoken support for Israel controversial. I lost opportunities, invitations, collaborations, and friendships. I received threats. Endless threats. Some subtle, some graphic, some terrifying. But none of it ever truly stopped me because my connection to Israel was never political in the shallow sense people often assume.
It was emotional. Spiritual, even.
Israel always felt like home to me, even before I fully understood why.
Long before people like Yoseph Haddad became internationally known. Long before organizations like StandWithUs established themselves in the Netherlands. Long before social media turned advocacy into branding, influencing, and fundraising, I was already defending Israel publicly.
And because I wanted to defend it honestly, I studied.
I read history books obsessively. I read the Bible, the Torah, the Talmud, and the Quran. I studied the Arab Israeli conflict from every possible angle because I wanted my arguments to be rooted in knowledge instead of slogans. I have always been allergic to lies, regardless of who tells them. Justice matters deeply to me. Truth matters deeply to me. That is precisely why what I am experiencing now hurts so much.
Because lately, something has shifted inside me.
Not my love for Israel. That remains deeply rooted. But my certainty. My ability to silence certain doubts. My ability to look away from things that I once could rationalize or ignore.
I think the shift started somewhere around late 2022 and early 2023. Around the time the endless demonstrations against Benjamin Netanyahu erupted after his reelection. Officially, they were anti-judicial reform demonstrations. But they quickly became something much larger and much uglier. Every Saturday night, the streets are filled with rage, division, internal hatred, and political hysteria.
Of course, Israel is a democracy. Protest is part of democracy. I know that. But what I saw frightened me because I could feel the damage being done to the country from within.
And what hurt me most was not even the demonstrations themselves. It was seeing Israeli protesters waving Palestinian flags only hours after terror attacks against Israelis had taken place. That image wounded something inside me. Deeply.
I could not understand it.
Israelis are among the smartest, most resilient, most innovative people in the world. A tiny nation that continuously survives against impossible odds. A country that built miracles in a desert while under constant threat. Yet suddenly I saw a society publicly tearing itself apart while enemies watched with satisfaction.
It felt self-destructive.
And still, despite all of this, I remained loyal. Because loving a country does not mean loving every government, every crowd, every political movement, or every decision. At least that is what I always believed.
But recently, it has become harder and harder to reconcile my emotional connection to Israel with some of the things I see happening.
Things have gone from bad to worse.
Last week, I wrote about a Palestinian funeral. The article became popular on The Times of Israel blogs. People shared it widely. But what most readers did not see was the backlash I received privately afterward.
Suddenly, I was accused of betraying Israel.
After years of being labeled far right, extremist, racist, fascist, and every imaginable insult for defending Israel, I was suddenly called a leftist. Apparently, the moment you criticize something, even from a place of concern and love, your entire history becomes irrelevant.
But the most painful accusation was this one.
Nazi.
I have spent over a decade defending Israel and Jewish people against hatred, lies, antisemitism, and propaganda. Yet now some people casually throw that word at me because I refuse to blindly justify every single thing Israel does.
Even friends in Israel told me I was being brainwashed by Western media.
That accusation was almost funny to me because the overwhelming majority of the news I consume comes from Israeli newspapers and Israeli journalists.
What many Israelis do not fully understand is that they live inside the storm. And inside the eye of the storm, things often feel quieter than they really are.
I watch Israel from afar.
I see how every image spreads internationally within seconds. I see how every mistake becomes amplified through a giant global magnifying glass. Every incident becomes symbolic. Every video becomes political ammunition. Every act of cruelty becomes associated with the entire country, whether fair or unfair.
And yes, I know the world holds Israel to impossible standards. I know there are double standards. I know antisemitism exists. I know many people judge Israel in ways they would never judge any other nation.
But refusing to acknowledge reality does not make reality disappear.
A friend in Israel recently told me something that stayed with me.
He said Israelis are exhausted from constantly being blamed for everything bad in society and therefore, many simply do not care anymore what the world thinks.
I understand that exhaustion. I truly do.
But I also think that attitude is dangerously shortsighted.
Israel’s first duty is survival. Survival in an often hostile world. And survival requires military strength, intelligence, innovation, and resilience. But it also requires legitimacy. Goodwill matters. Optics matter. Public perception matters, especially for a tiny country constantly scrutinized by the international community.
So yes, unfortunately, Israel must constantly be self-aware.
Annoying? Absolutely.
Unfair? Often.
Necessary? Completely.
If the worst burden Israel carries is needing to think carefully about how its actions are perceived globally, then honestly, things are still not that bad.
And many situations could be handled differently.
Take that funeral incident.
If Palestinians intentionally buried someone in the wrong place, then do not allow angry mobs to handle the situation emotionally. Send law enforcement. Send ZAKA volunteers. Handle the deceased with dignity and professionalism because Jewish values demand dignity for the dead. The Torah itself emphasizes respect for human remains.
Or take the Gaza flotilla situation over the years.
Those moments were massive missed opportunities from a media strategy perspective. Israel could have demonstrated confidence, legality, and calm professionalism instead of feeding global outrage.
Imagine a different approach.
Allow Greek authorities to inspect the ship thoroughly for prohibited items. Organize a joint press conference with Israeli officials. Publicly explain exactly where the naval blockade begins and clarify that breaching a blockade during wartime legally constitutes a hostile act. State calmly and transparently that anyone attempting to cross knowingly assumes responsibility for the consequences.
And then, if they still insist on continuing, let them proceed while making clear Israel will not provide assistance if emergencies arise.
The entire international narrative would have shifted.
Instead, Israel too often reacts emotionally, aggressively, chaotically, or arrogantly in situations where strategic calm would serve it far better.
And this is where my internal conflict grows.
Because I still love Israel.
But I increasingly struggle with the carelessness.
The unwillingness to understand modern media warfare.
The inability to recognize how quickly images shape global consciousness.
And then, just when I try to reassure myself that, despite everything, Israel remains morally grounded overall, I see something else that shakes me again.
Recently, I saw footage from Judea and Samaria.
An Israeli man is beating a dog to death with a stick.
I wish I had never seen it.
And before people start shouting at me again, let me say this clearly.
No, one monster does not represent all Israelis.
I know that.
Of course, I know that.
But this is exactly the problem many people fail to understand. Under the international microscope, individual acts stop being individual. They become symbols. They become narratives. They become headlines. They become viral proof for millions already eager to believe the worst about Israel.
And for me personally, the image shattered something emotionally.
Because when I watch a movie and the dog dies, I cry.
Always.
That kind of suffering destroys me emotionally. Maybe because animals are innocent. Maybe because cruelty disgusts me on a visceral level. Maybe because I still desperately want to believe people are fundamentally decent.
So when I saw that footage, something inside me collapsed for a moment.
Not because I suddenly hate Israel.
But because I expect more from Israel.
Precisely because I love it.
Love without moral expectations is not love. It is an obsession. It is tribalism. It is blindness.
Real love demands honesty.
And perhaps that is what hurts most about this moment. Not the criticism from anti-Israel activists. I am used to that. Not the propaganda. Not even the threats.
What hurts is feeling increasingly alienated from parts of the very camp I defended for over a decade.
Because somewhere along the line, nuance became betrayal.
Questioning became a weakness.
Empathy became suspicious.
And moral discomfort became political treason.
I cannot function like that.
I refuse to become someone who excuses everything simply because it is politically convenient.
Israel taught me many things over the years. Strength. Survival. Resilience. Courage. But Jewish ethics also taught me something equally important. Self reflection.
To wrestle morally.
To question.
To argue.
To hold ourselves accountable precisely because life is sacred.
That tradition of introspection is one of the reasons I fell in love with Israel and Jewish culture in the first place.
So no, my heart has not abandoned Israel.
But my heart is hurting.
Hurting because I still believe Israel can be extraordinary.
Hurting because I know this country is capable of greatness beyond military victories and technological achievements.
Hurting because I see unnecessary mistakes turning global opinion further and further against a nation I defended tirelessly for years.
And hurting because somewhere beneath all the politics, propaganda, flags, slogans, and endless wars are still human beings.
People grieving.
People afraid.
People are becoming numb.
Maybe that numbness is what scares me most of all.
Because once people stop caring how cruelty looks, sounds, or feels, something dangerous begins to grow inside a society.
And tonight, after everything, after all the arguments, all the debates, all the accusations, all the footage, all the noise, I sit here staring at my screen with tears in my eyes over a dead dog.
And I cry.
