The Church of England and Israel/Palestine

On Sunday evening, General Synod debate the Carlisle Diocesan motion (which they had passed in 2021) asking us to ‘receive’ the Kairos II Palestine document, which you can read here. The debate did not finish in time on Sunday evening, so (to some howls of protest) was adjourned until Monday morning, when the debate concluded, and Synod voted in favour of the motion, amended to add some more words of listening to both sides, and changing ‘receive’ to ‘hear’ the Kairos document—though as Philip North said in his speech of opposition, that nicety will make no difference to its impact.

The vote was Laity: 113 for, 27 against, 35 abstentions; Clergy: 115 for, 20 against, 30 abstentions; Bishops: 25 for, 0 against, 5 abstentions.

I was called fourth, which meant that I had five minutes to speak, though I had planned a speech of three minutes. This is my text, though you can see from the YouTube video below that I improvised some additions.

This motion raises some awkward and challenging questions for us.

How can we claim to speak for ‘a just and lasting peace’, when we are listening to the pain of one side only in this complex, contested conflict, which we must — but we refuse to hear from the other—the bereaved and the maimed of 7th October and the second intifada? Why was the other voice not invited? If it is good enough for our archbishop, why not us?

How do we avoid the charge of hypocrisy, when we meet Palestinian Christian leaders as our brothers and sisters in Christ, as we should, yet stay silent while some of those same communities celebrate terrorist violence, and their children post that celebration online?

How can we claim to stand against antisemitism when para 3.3: “We consider the State of Israel, established in 1948, to be a continuation of that same colonial enterprise built on racism and the ideology of ethnic or religious superiority.” IHRA bishops antisemitism. ‘the existence of the State of Israel is a racist endeavour.’

How do we avoid the charge of anti-Israel bias, when we single out for censure the one democracy in the region — the only one that protects the rights of women and of gay people — yet have never once debated the oppression of women in the Arab world, the suffering of the Kurds, the Yazidi, the Uyghurs, the Yemenis, or the Christians of Nigeria?

How can we call this ethnic cleansing, when Israel’s first leaders urged Palestinians to stay and build a shared state, when 2.1 million Palestinians hold full democratic rights in Israel today—and when Jews were ethnically cleansed from every inch of the Palestinian Territories, and 900,000 more driven from neighbouring Arab states? As a Synod we were silent then. Did we protest then? Did we propose a debate, or a diocesan motion?

And how do we live with ourselves in a country where Jewish schoolchildren are jeered at daily — “you have no place here, leave the country” — and we say nothing? 

When you head to the station on Tuesday, you will pass the castle tower, where the last Jews of York died in 1190, prior to the expulsion of all Jews from England  in 1290. 

What will we say when the last Jew leaves Britain this time? Will we listen to them then?

The reaction to this from Jewish leadership in this country was unsurprising. The Board of Deputies commented:

The motion passed at General Synod today is highly problematic. Kairos Palestine may come from a place of genuine pain, but the falsehoods and distortions of Kairos II, including its erasure of Jewish identity and experience, is a prescription for more division and not the answer to conflict in the Middle East. There is also a clear tension between the incendiary wording of the document and the Church’s expressed aim of tackling antisemitism.

We thank our allies across the Church of England who worked to share our concerns and mitigate the harms associated with the Synod motions relating to Kairos Palestine, including by calling for dialogue with the Jewish community.

We remain committed to working with Christians, Jews, Muslims and others in this country to tackle hatred and extremism, and build a better future for all at home and abroad. We must not import conflict, but export peace instead. We will be stepping up that work over the coming days.

And the Chief Rabbi, Sir Ephraim Mirvis, expressed similar concerns.

It is shameful that the Church of England General Synod has recommended engagement with Kairos II. This is a document full of falsehood, which openly rejects dialogue, uses extreme rhetoric to challenge the very existence of Israel and objects to existing peace agreements in the region.

Though it poses as a route to understanding, Kairos II in fact functions as an egregious barrier to it, reducing one of the world’s most complex conflicts to a single, warped narrative, which can only harm the cause of peace. This is a sad day for Jewish-Christian relations.

We were told repeatedly in the debate that this was simply concerned with ‘listening to our brothers and sisters who are suffering’, and that not supporting the motion would be a slap in the face to them and a failure of compassion. So why was a simple listening exercise so controversial?

The answer is in the content of Kairos II. Although it was presented as nothing more than ‘the testimony of those suffering’, it is in fact something much more—a political statement, expressed in Marxist binaries of the oppressor and the oppressed. You can see this in Para 1.3:

Zionists do not want us to remain on our land. Their plan for us is displacement, death or submission. The genocidal war on Gaza is the continuation of the Zionist project to seize all of Palestine, emptied of its Palestinian people. Ethnic cleansing and the denial of the right of return to those forcibly displaced are ongoing policies practiced in Jerusalem, the West Bank, Gaza and the territories of 1948.

‘Genocide’ was a term coined specifically to describe the gassing and shooting of 6 million Jews in the Holocaust, and the global population of Jews has still not recovered to where it was in 1935, despite the population of the world growing fourfold. The war in Gaza, started by Hamas, is horrific, but 70,000 casualties in a war out of a population of 2.1 million is not ‘genocide’. The proportion of civilian casualties is actually lower than in recent Western-led conflicts—so if this is ‘genocide’, then all recent wars have been. This is a degrading of the meaning of the term, and appears to be calculated to cause maximum offence to Jews and maximum appeal to the West.

In fact, the population of Palestinians in every area has grown phenomenally. There were 750,000 in the land in 1947; that number now totals 15.5 million. And in Israel itself, the 150,000 who remained have grown to 2.1 million who are citizens with full democratic rights. The claim that Israel has been ’emptied of its Palestinian people’ is a straight lie.

Worse than that, Kairos II comes very close to offering an apologia for October 7th in 1.6:

The Hamas attack of that day was itself born out of decades of injustice, oppression and displacement since the Nakba of 1948.

That is the sole mention of the role of Hamas in this situation.

It was pointed out to me in comments on my previous article that the wording which describes Israel as a racist endeavour falls foul of the IHRA definition of antisemitism, at its bullet point seven, which the House of Bishops have themselves affirmed. I raised this question with the Clerk of Synod, asking whether it was either legal or in order for Synod to be discussing a document which was believed to be antisemitic. The answer I received was astounding.

The IHRA definition of antisemitism includes the following example:

‘Denying the Jewish people their right to self-determination, e.g., by claiming that the existence of a State of Israel is a racist endeavour.’

There are places in parts 1 and 2 of the Karios II document (Final_Kairos_document_II_English.pdf) that refer to ‘settler-colonial’ activity by Israel, ‘apartheid’ and ‘genocide’. I would not consider these allegations/characterisations themselves to be within the above example of antisemitism.

However, there is material in part 3 which may actually do so, in particular the following sentence in para 3.3: “We consider the State of Israel, established in 1948, to be a continuation of that same colonial enterprise built on racism and the ideology of ethnic or religious superiority.”

If that passage does fall within the definition of antisemitism, what then? The College of Bishops has adopted the IHRA definition. But the Synod itself has not done so. Unsurprisingly, there is nothing in the Standing Orders specifically about antisemitism. There is a requirement in SO 18 for the Chair to call a member to order for “unbecoming language”. A speech which reiterated the above sentence from para 3.3 of Kairos II might be considered unbecoming language, but that would be a decision for the Chair at the relevant moment, taking account of precisely what was said.

SO 4(5) requires the Business Committee to exclude from the Agenda and any notice paper relating to it “any business the language of which the Committee considers to be libellous, insulting or unseemly”. The focus here is on the language used rather than on particular concepts being discussed. There is a separate requirement for the BC to exclude business “the discussion of which would … be mischievous”. The only matter contained in the Agenda is the motion at item 14 itself. I cannot see any language in the motion itself which could reasonably be considered “libellous, insulting or unseemly”. The only notice papers that relate to this business are those which set out the amendments of which notice has been given. The same goes for them, I think.

In other words, although Kairos II is indeed antisemitic, since the words are not actually printed on an order paper in Synod, and since no-one is reading out those words, we have no process that prevents its being tabled. However, if I had stood and read the words of Kairos II out, then I would have been ruled out of order for using antisemitic language.

Can you make sense of that? I cannot.

I have always been careful, in this complex and contested conflict, to ensure that I listen to all voices in this painful debate. As I mentioned in my speech, on my last visit, I was able to meet people from all sides. Without Synod doing this in the session, they would have neither authority nor credibility to make any judgement.

Some who have criticised me on social media challenged me to meet with Fadi Diab, the Anglican priest in Ramallah who has been a leading figure in inviting bishops to visit, and contributed to the writing of Kairos II.

On my way to my room between debates, I bumped into him; we embraced, exchanged details, agreed to meet up, and had a brief conversation. Even in a short conversation, I could sense how charming and persuasive he was. ‘All we are asking is to be listened to’ he said. ‘But Kairos II is highly problematic’ I replied. ‘The law of return in 1950 is racist’ was his response—and then we parted.

There is nothing quite like actually meeting those you might disagree with, and hearing from them exactly what they believe—and even this brief conversation was a revelation to me.

If Fadi, his supporters, and Kairos II believe that the Law of Return is racist and illegitimate, then they are saying that they do not believe in the existence of Israel as a homeland for Jews who have become refugees as a result of pressure and persecution in other countries—including the 900,000 who have been driven out of the neighbouring Arab countries since 1948.

And it also means that they do not believe in a two-state solution, since Israel as it currently is constituted would have to cease to exist.

Connected with this is the counter-claim, belief expressed in Kairos II at 1.3, cited above, in the ‘right of return to those forcibly displaced’ in 1948. The claim is made that, not only those actually displaced, but their descendants in perpetuity have the right to return to the land—all 15.5 million of them. UNWRA has made the unique claim that all descendants of those displaced should be categorised as ‘refugees’. So, if I am born in the UK, to parents born in the UK, whose parents (my grandparents) were also born in the UK, but my great-grandparents left the region as a result of the 1948 (started by the Arab leaders), then I am classed as a refugee, and am entitled to UNWRA funding.

Does that make any sense at all?

In the period after the end of WW2, around 15 million people were forceably displaced. Every single other group settled in their new homes, and none were offered any kind of ‘right of return’. So why are the Palestinians here granted this unique status?

In fact, as the excellent book The War of Return sets out, this demand is what had scuppered every peace negotiation since 1948, and it is what prevents any possibility of a two-state solution. And so any in the West who support this are actually preventing peace, not enabling it. (I plan to write a review of this book very soon; I recommend it as essential reading.)

So why has the General Synod, and bishops in the Church of England, got this so badly wrong?

I honestly believe that, in this debate, we have been conned and manipulated. A highly political document was presented to us as merely an exercise in listening, and too few people understood what they were reading in order to challenge this claim.

But, to be duped, you have to be vulnerable. And many, especially in the leadership, are terrified of being accused of ‘to listening’ to those who feel abused and oppressed. Despite one bishop, Philip North, speaking against the motion, and another, Michael Ipgrave, expressing concerns, not a single one voted against the motion—terrified of being accused of ‘not listening to your brethren who are suffering.’

As far as I can see, that means that the whole House of Bishops is complicit in the deep offence to the Jewish community, and to supporting a position which will make peace even harder to achieve (insofar as the view of the C of E has any impact).

But there are two deeper problems. One is that so many in Synod are in the grip of affective individualism, in which someone’s feelings trump all other reflective engagement, and critical theory, in which all differences are reduced to simplistic power dynamics.

And General Synod is simply not competent to make judgements in such complex, highly politicised, and deeply divisive situations. But then again, why should they be? Why are we even discussing such political situations at all? Our role is governance in the Church—but too often we are driven into making statements of virtue about things we do not properly understand.

The damage is done, and it will take many years and much effort to undo it.