“There was terror in his eyes as he chewed his bagel,” I joke, as Eylon Levy, the usually sharp-tongued former spokesman for the state of Israel, sits opposite me, eyes wide and deep in thought.
We are sitting in a chilly back office at the Jewish Learning Exchange (JLE), where the 33-year-old is about to speak to 180 fellow young, Jewish professionals as part of JLE’s “Unbreakable” series, “uncovering the secrets of Jewish resilience”.
The question that has left Levy speechless? How he recovers when he is feeling overwhelmed and deflated – as all of us have done, at some point since Hamas’ brutal attack on October 7, 2023. Where does he go? What does he do? Who does he speak to when he needs to feel whole and grounded again?
“The way you phrased the question makes it sound like I should be taking better care of myself,” he eventually replies, laughing. “It’s been a sprint, and it’s a challenge to adapt it into a marathon. I try to make time to exercise occasionally, but there’s a lot of pressure on my time – whether it’s interviews or groups who want me to speak to them, which means it’s not always possible.”
It’s been a trying 13 months for most Jews, but especially for Levy, who has been on the frontline of the media war. “I’m not the same person I was a year ago,” he admits. “I feel like I’ve lived ten years in the last year… I feel that the last year has aged me… From my perspective, certainly being thrust into the public limelight, intense attention, getting dragged through headlines and politics – it’s really been a character-building experience.”
It’s hardly surprising that Levy is feeling a little dazed. Since the war began, he has been hired as an Israeli government spokesman – and forced to resign (apparently at the insistence of Sara Netanyahu). Since then, he has travelled the world advocating for Israel, founded a non-profit – the Israeli Citizen Spokespersons’ Office and debated live on stage with Medhi Hasan.
“I started being a government spokesman a week into the war because the state of emergency in Israel was so intense that they took a former anti-government protester and he became a spokesman for the government,” he explains. “I really don’t want this to sound arrogant, but when you know that people look up to you and are taking their cue from you… that’s a lot of responsibility that suddenly you’re conscious of… You’re not a private citizen anymore; you’re a public figure.”
Levy, who was born in London and made aliyah in 2014, may be at the coalface, but he strongly believes that not only that we all have a duty to advocate for Israel, but that, as individuals, we have more power than we often think. “That personal connection is key,” he tells me. “You don’t need to have a huge social media following – and to be honest, sharing a story with a few thousand followers is not going to make a difference. But the one-on-one conversation with a colleague, with a neighbour… You really don’t want to talk to them about Israel because it will be awkward, and because you could lose a friend, but that’s where there is the biggest advantage and biggest potential, and that’s where individuals should feel most empowered because they can make a difference. Because no one else is going to speak with that person other than you. So, take it offline.”
Later on, the JLE audience is rapt as Levy delivers his closing remarks – once again, encouraging us all to play our part in this existential fight for our survival. “The Jewish community is very blessed that we don’t live in a ghetto, we’re not cut off from the rest of society. We’re there – we’re embedded. You have people’s ears. You have to use that platform,” he says.
“There's a great line in the Book of Esther, where Mordechai is trying to encourage Esther to speak up, to save her people. She’s like: “Why me?” And he tells her: “Maybe it’s for this, maybe it’s for this moment that you reached your position.” And I think we all need to think in the same spirit, that you all have people you can speak to, ears that will listen, platforms you can use – and maybe it’s precisely for this moment and for this task that you are where you are. So, use it well”.
Circling back to how he unwinds, Levy, who now lives in Tel Aviv, does, eventually, come up with an answer – and of course, it’s the perfect response for the JC. “I have a very close group of friends with whom I have Shabbat dinner every week,” he says. “We’re a kind of cabinet of sorts and started having dinner together at the beginning of the war when a friend of mine started hosting. It was an absolute Godsend because while I was giving interviews from the dinner table on the radio, I didn’t have to worry about where I was going for dinner.
He says of the group, “We’ve become very close. And to have a tight-knit group of friends, with whom you can talk about the challenges and frustrations of the last week… for me, that Friday night dinner is sacred and the best way to process the week and go into the following week with new energy.”