We Left the Exile, But Did the Exile Leave Us? (And Why That Must Not Happen!)

Nir Topper
15 minutes ago
4 min read

The Zionist narrative upon which we were raised is built on a simple equation: Exile is bad, and Sovereignty is the cure. We called this the "Negation of the Diaspora" (Shlilat HaGolah). However, the truth—as revealed by current research and the shaking reality of the last two years—is far more complex. Exile is not merely a historical event that ended, nor a demographic glitch we fixed; rather, Exile is one of the most crucial components of Jewish identity. It is a "meta-structure" that continues to govern our consciousness even within our National Home.

To understand the present, we must go back and shatter one of our greatest myths: "The Myth of the Empty Land." The accepted perception is that following the destruction of the First Temple (586 BCE), the land was completely emptied of its inhabitants for 70 years. Archaeological and textual evidence tells a completely different story: The Babylonians exiled only the elite—about 15% to 20% of the people. The absolute majority, the "common people" (Dalat Ha'am), remained in the land, cultivated the fields, and paid taxes. The myth of the absolute void was created by the Returnees to Zion to claim ownership of the land, but the historical truth is that Jewish continuity in the Land of Israel was never truly broken.

This tension between "Here" and "There" has always accompanied the Jewish people. It is not a modern invention; already in ancient times, a titanic struggle took place between the center in the Land of Israel and thriving Babylonian Jewry. It was a debate over spiritual, Halakhic, and economic primacy, which ultimately gave birth to the two Talmuds—the Jerusalem Talmud and the Babylonian Talmud. Throughout the ages, Jewish existence has always oscillated between these two poles: the yearning for Zion on the one hand, and the miraculous ability to flourish in dispersion on the other. Historian Simon Rawidowicz described this as "Babylon and Jerusalem"—not as opposites that must destroy one another, but as two lungs through which the entire Jewish body breathes. Zionism seemingly tried to resolve this tension and eliminate "Babylon" in favor of "Jerusalem," but historical reality has proven that the Jewish people need both centers to maintain vitality: the sovereign center that provides security and land, and the diasporic center that provides universality, flexibility, and spirit.

A Chronicle of Displacement: Stations in Time

To understand the depth of our exilic DNA, it is worth looking back at three central historical stations that shaped it, with each exile adding another layer to our identity:

The Exile of the Kingdom of Israel (Assyrian Exile, 722 BCE): The Northern Kingdom of Israel rebelled against the Assyrian Empire, the predatory regional power of the time. King Sargon II exiled the inhabitants to "Halah, and in Habor by the river of Gozan, and in the cities of the Medes" (regions in modern-day northern Iraq and Iran). This created the trauma of "Erasure": the Ten Tribes assimilated into the local population and were lost forever. The broad "Israelite" identity was reduced to a "Jewish" identity (named after the surviving Tribe of Judah), creating the primal fear of total assimilation.
The Exile of the Kingdom of Judah (Babylonian Exile, 586 BCE): King Zedekiah's rebellion against Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon, led to the siege of Jerusalem, the destruction of the First Temple, and the burning of the city. The exile was to Babylon (modern-day Iraq) and consisted of the social and religious elite.
The Roman Exiles (Destruction of the Second Temple, 70 CE, and the Bar Kokhba Revolt, 132 CE): The great revolts against Roman rule led to mass deportation to Rome, Europe, and North Africa, and the renaming of the province to "Palaestina" to sever the Jewish connection to the land. This was "The Great Exile"—the one that lasted nearly 2,000 years and transformed Exile from a temporary state into an existential condition. The people became an "Eternal People" (or "World People"), wandering the globe. The exilic consciousness—of foreignness, transience, and longing—became second nature to the Jewish people, so much so that it is difficult for us to shake it off even when we are at home

So, is Exile merely a tragedy? Absolutely not. Research shows that it became a sophisticated survival mechanism, a sort of "Operating System" for the Jewish people. Instead of relying on walls and towers, we built a "Portable Homeland" made of words, texts, rituals, and values. This exilic DNA granted us mental flexibility, a critical capacity toward power and authority, and the moral sensitivity of one who knows what it means to be a stranger. Exile, therefore, is not just a geographical place we left, but a state of mind we carry with us everywhere—even into the State of Israel. It is a constant reminder that power is temporary, and that essence—the essence of values—is what matters.

So, what do we do with this Exile that won't let go? Instead of fighting it, perhaps it is time to embrace parts of it. The future of Jewish-Israeli and Jewish-Non-Israeli identities depends on our ability to hold the dialectical tension: to be sovereign and strong on one hand, but to preserve the "Exilic Consciousness" on the other—a consciousness of humility, of doubt, and of listening to the text and the spirit no less than to power. Exile is not the enemy of Sovereignty; when balanced correctly, it may well be its conscience.

Image: James Tissot – "The Flight of the Prisoners." A depiction of the journey into exile (Babylonian Exile). Image Source:

https://he.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D7%92%D7%9C%D7%95%D7%AA_%D7%91%D7%91%D7%9C#/media/%D7%A7%D7%95%D7%91%D7%A5:Tissot_The_Flight_of_the_Prisoners.jpg