Zvika Klein: I'm staying in Israel - despite my abuse by the state

Jerusalem Post editor-in-chief Zvika Klein posted an emotional statement on Facebook today (Thursday), where he explained that he is staying in Israel, "not because of the state" which abused him as part of the Qatargate investigation but because of his children.

Here is the full statement:

They tried to break me. In that moment I understood: I'm staying here in Israel. Not because of the state – but because of you.

My dear children,

One day you will ask me why we stayed. Why, after everything we went through, after the images burned into your memory, the sounds you heard at night, the questions you had to ask long before your age – why despite everything, we chose to stay here. In Israel.

You'll ask why, when they said the country was falling apart, when politicians pushed every button to incite us against each other, when everyone warned of corruption, chaos, civil war – we didn't pack our suitcases and move to a quieter place. A safer place. An easier place.

And my answer is simple: Because this is our home. And sometimes, especially when everything seems to be collapsing – what truly makes a home is revealed.

A few weeks ago, I sat in a television studio and cried on live broadcast. They invited me to talk about what I went through – a journalist who was investigated, detained, whose personal phone was confiscated without a warrant. But what really broke me wasn't the professional injustice – but the moment when I couldn't pick you up from kindergarten and school. Your mother was abroad. You were waiting for me. And I – was detained at a police station, without a phone, without the ability to explain. That was the moment I broke down.

And then the interviewer asked me: "Do you regret immigrating to Israel?"

And the answer came immediately, even with my choked throat: "Not even for a moment. Not at all."

Because when they ask me why we didn't leave, why I didn't escape to a normal place – I ask back: Where exactly would we go?

To America? So you can study at prestigious universities and hide your mezuzah in a drawer? So you can be afraid to say you're Jewish? To Britain? Where Jews are told not to leave their homes? To France? Where Jewish women are murdered just because they're Jewish? To Australia? Where thousands came out to protest against Israel – the day after the massacre? To South Africa? Where the government defines our right to self-defense as a crime?

No. We have nowhere to go. But more than that – we have reasons to stay.

Golda Meir said: "The Jews' secret weapon – is that they have nowhere to go." But I think we also have an obvious strength: the truth in our identity. The inseparable connection between people, land, and memory.

You didn't grow up in the Gaza Envelope. We hardly heard sirens. But you saw. You heard. You absorbed. I tried to protect you – but children always feel.

You were there when I disappeared. When I couldn't answer the phone. When I couldn't pick you up. When you didn't understand why your father suddenly wasn't home – despite nothing bad happening. Just doing his job.

The state, that same state I write about, that I've been loyal to all my life – treated me like a criminal. They confiscated my phone. They leaked lies about me. They accused me of an imaginary mechanism. Even now – months later – they haven't returned my device.

And yet, even when I felt like a target, even when they tried to isolate me – I knew: I'm staying here. Not just because of what was, but because of who we are.

Because during that week when I was alone, suddenly I received messages from newspaper editorial offices that never supported me. From 'Haaretz'. From Channel 14. From one end of the political map to the other. People who for a moment forgot politics – and simply said: "We are with you."

I saw it in October too. I saw it when neighbors took down a sukkah because the husband was in reserve duty. When they prepared food for soldiers. When they opened homes to refugees. When Jews flew from New York, from Paris, from Miami, not to escape – but to help.

I mentioned Rabbi Jonathan Sacks. He said: "I don't need you to agree with me – I need you to care about me." That's what happened here this year.

Not agreement – but caring. Not uniformity – but responsibility. All Israel is responsible for one another. Not a slogan. Truth.

And this truth – is what keeps us here. Not security. Not leadership. Not the decisions of one government or another. But the people. The connections between people. The caring.

Even when they failed. Even when the state failed. Even when October 7th exposed the collapse of all systems – we remained.

Because even when the leaders lost their way – the people found their way themselves.

I was broken after the attack. I didn't know how to explain it to you. How to explain it to the world. But then I heard Gal Gadot saying: "I'm Gal. I'm Jewish. And we're tired of the hatred." She stood before the world and said what I felt.

So I thought about you.

I want you to know who you are. I want you to enter every room with your head held high – as proud Jews. As proud Israelis. That your identity is a gift. Not a burden. That when others are silent – we need to speak. Not to fight – but to represent. To hold onto faith. To remind ourselves who we are.

So when you ask me why we stayed, why we didn't leave – I will say:

Because this is ours. Because there is no other place in the world where we would be whole – not emotionally, not spiritually, not nationally – like here.

And maybe, one day, when your children ask you the same question – you'll tell them what I'm telling you.

Because this land is ours. Because our people are still writing the story. And because you – you – are part of the continuation of this story.

With love, Dad