You know that my love for Israel is deeply ingrained in both my body and soul. I have covered its wars. I have spent my life defending its people and its army against hatred and slander. On Oct. 8, 2023, I was among the first to visit the pogrom-stricken kibbutzim and to bear witness, with wide-open eyes, to the horrific barbarism. For me, Israel is a fixed point. It is a refuge. A home. And in that beautiful French word foyer, I also hear the point of light that, since Abraham sojourned there, has drawn Jewish thought, longing, and hope. In short, I love Israel. With all my heart. And that is why, when you invited me to open a conference in Jerusalem on antisemitism, which was to be concluded by your prime minister, I accepted without hesitation. But it is also why, upon learning that representatives of European far-right parties would be present alongside him and yourself, I preferred to withdraw. Let me explain.

I know that the main far-right parties, like France’s Rassemblement National, claim to have broken with antisemitism. I have heard great voices (Serge Klarsfeld, for instance) who have credited them with this shift. Am I more cautious? More attentive to the many election campaigns where neo-Nazi candidates had to be hastily expelled after being too quickly endorsed? Or have I spent too much time studying the inner workings—self-examination, reckoning, mourning, and memory—that allow political movements to truly recover from the plague? It took French author Georges Bernanos a lifetime to break with the antisemite Édouard Drumont. It took an unprecedented revolution in the history of religions for the Catholic Church, at Vatican II, to renounce the “teaching of contempt.” Mr. Bardella is not Georges Bernanos. And a party congress where the Front National rebrands itself Rassemblement National by decree is not a council of the Church.

I also know that the greatest threat facing Jews in Europe today comes from the far left—especially, in my country, from La France Insoumise. And I see Rassemblement National swear by all that is sacred that it is the best shield against an electoral poster from La France Insoumise depicting the French radio presenter Cyril Hanouna as an “eternal Jew,” straight out of 1940. But again—am I being too cautious? Or simply too demanding? I find it hard to feel protected by a party whose leader still does not know whether Jean-Marie Le Pen was antisemitic or not, and whose presidential candidate lumps the kippa and the Islamic veil together in the same category of opprobrium. I do not see this “shield” when I observe this party’s ties to Russia—the very country that was the first, in the wake of Oct. 7, to welcome, celebrate, and receive Hamas leaders with honors. And I would rather not think too much about how the Trumpists of old Europe will react the day their self-proclaimed “defender of the Jews” exercises his “art of the deal”—for example, with Iran …

Because I also know that Israel, like every nation, engages in realpolitik. And I know that a tiny country, a mere strip of land—however much it may be the nerve center of human history, the apple of Providence’s eye—must, regrettably, be more pragmatic than others. It must make compromises with forces that, if left unappeased, would crush it like a mouse under an elephant’s foot.

But compromising is one thing—associating is another. Engaging in realpolitik is inevitable—but not at the risk of turning Jerusalem, for two days, into the capital of an illiberal International that scoffs at the democratic values that are one of Israel’s pillars. I will not burden you, dear President Herzog, with French domestic political disputes. But Jews have too often, throughout history, been the pawns in the power games of great nations. I do not see why they should now risk enthusiastically embracing the cause of a party engaged in a war to the death with Bruno Retailleau’s center Republican party, with former French Prime Minister Gabriel Attal’s allies, or with the heirs—yes, they still exist!—of the social democrats who helped make Israel a nuclear power.

One final word, Mr. President. You know Jewish history too well not to be aware that in this passion of nations that they call nationalism, there lies an infernal machine—one that almost always ends up turning against the Jews. And you, more than anyone, understand how utterly opposed this kind of idolatry is to the unique blend of memory, study, poetry, and modernity that has allowed the Jewish people, after millennia, to reclaim the land of Israel. For centuries, exiled Jews have chanted: “If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither.” But perhaps the time has come for the Jews of Israel, in turn, to reflect: “If I forget thee, Jewish soul … if I forget thee, Jewish dignity—that dignity that has survived countless massacres without ever losing its detachment from worldly powers … If I forget thee, Jewish being—that being which, with all its strength, refused to dissolve into the nations—then it is not my hand, but the very heart of Israel, that will wither.” The Jewish exception comes at this price. As does Zionism—and its nobility.