Social change does not fall from the sky — nor does it grow on its own

By: Warda Saada

On the necessary tension between grassroots civic actionand leadership that dares to act from above

In societies that are divided, wounded by trauma and fear, change is not a natural process. It does not happen “when the time ripens,” nor is it born of goodwill alone. It is the result of a dynamic—and at times tense—encounter between two forces: a grassroots civic movement from below and political leadership from above. When one is missing, change stalls. When both converge, even the impossible becomes possible.

Israeli society is a sharp example of this. It exists along a continuum of violence, a collective memory of threat, and a deep preference for the status quo—even when it is destructive. In such a reality, the very demand for equality, peace, or an end to rule by force is often perceived as a danger.

Precisely for this reason, the question is not whether change should come from below or from above—but how the connection between them is built.

Oslo: Between civic pain and political decision

The Oslo process was not a whim of a detached leadership. It rested on many years of civic action: peace movements, intellectual discourse, informal contacts, and communities that refused to accept lives of perpetual war and the denial of rights. It was a shift in consciousness that grew from below—not necessarily as a majority, but as a persistent voice.

Yet this change would have remained on the margins without leadership that granted it legitimacy.Yitzhak Rabin, together with figures such as Shulamit Aloni, did not merely advance policy—they broke conventions. They allowed a different discourse to enter the center. They said out loud that peace is not weakness, and that equality and rights are not an existential threat.

It is important to say this honestly: the process unfolded within a reality of severe violence.The massacre carried out by Baruch Goldstein against Palestinian worshippers in Hebron did not only shock—it undermined trust entirely. It was followed by brutal, traumatic attacks that wounded innocent Israeli civilians. (I myself nearly became a victim of one of them.) The fear was not theoretical—it was physical, daily, real.

And yet, precisely within this fear, the leadership chose—at least for a time—not to retreat immediately. That choice did not cancel the pain or eliminate the risk. But it conveyed to the public that there was another horizon, that it was possible to think differently even when it hurt.

This is not romanticization. It is a description of political courage: the ability to act not despite public fear, but within it.

Begin: When leadership changes the public—not the other way around

Menachem Begin was not the product of a peace movement. He emerged from the ideological right, from a rigid nationalist movement, with an underground past and a very hard worldview. Violent and painful chapters in Zionist history—including controversial actions intended to encourage Jewish immigration by creating fear, as described in his writings and in historical research—are not foreign to the context from which he came.

So too, the heavy hand used during the Nakba and afterward, and during the years of military rule over Arab citizens, is an inseparable part of the state’s biography—not a marginal deviation.

And yet, after the 1973 war, when Anwar Sadat chose to reach out to Israel, Begin chose to listen. He did not act from consensus—but against it. At the outset, public support for the move was low, around one-third. Opposition was fierce, especially within his own camp.

Here leadership is tested: not in the ability to mirror public opinion, but in the ability to move it.Through consistency, moral language, and personal credibility, Begin succeeded in persuading an entire public. Within a relatively short time, public support rose to about 80%, according to surveys of the period.

Not because Israeli society changed on its own—but because leadership created the possibility for it to change.

Civic equality as the foundation for sustainable change

The lesson from both cases is clear: change that is not grounded in equality and rights falls apart. Change that does not include everyone who lives here does not endure.

A grassroots civic movement that speaks of partnership, equality, and shared life generates consciousness.Leadership willing to recognize every citizen as equal translates that consciousness into reality.

Without this, any political process becomes a temporary arrangement. Any reconciliation becomes merely a pause.

Conclusion: Shared responsibility and the missing political home

Change does not rest solely on the shoulders of the public, nor solely on the shoulders of leadership.The public is required to persist.Leadership is required to dare.

And in a society like ours—one that has experienced violence, fear, trauma, and ongoing injustice—the connection between the two is not a luxury. It is a condition for the possibility of a different future.Not perfect.Not without cost.But more humane, more equal, and possible.

From here arises a pressing contemporary question that cannot be avoided:If a change in consciousness is born from below but requires anchoring from above—who provides it today with a real political home?

Many civic movements operate on the ground for equality, partnership, democracy, the fight against racism, human rights, and peace. Yet time and again they encounter a glass ceiling: the absence of political power willing—and able—to translate these values into binding policy.

Here the importance of a political framework becomes clear—one that does not merely “support” protest, but grows from those very values. The All Citizens Party seeks to be this bridge: between action from below and leadership from above; between civic movements and political power that does not compromise on core principles—full civic equality, Jewish-Arab partnership, a just peace, social justice, and a clear separation between religion and state.

Not as a substitute for civil society—but as its natural continuation in the arena where decisions are made.