READ: If These Flags Could Talk

AVI's Founder and Executive Director Daniel Koren pens new op-ed in the Jerusalem Post

AVI students and stakeholders join for a flag-planting ceremony outside AVI headquarters in October 2024

This week, The Jerusalem Post published an op-ed about AVI's experience taking part in Flags of Fellowship, an important initiative from the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews. Please read it in its entirety below.

If you walk into the headquarters of Allied Voices for Israel (AVI) in Toronto today, you’ll see a bundle of Israeli flags resting against the wall. To a casual observer, they look a bit rough. The wooden dowels are stained at the bottom with dried, dark earth. The fabric is slightly weathered.

Most people would see this as a sign that these flags have been used. But for us, that dirt is a testament to a journey that spans communities, cultures, and the very definition of what it means to stand with the Jewish State in 2026.

AVI was established to bridge the gap between the Jewish People and our allies here in Canada and to build grassroots support that moves beyond the choir. But we were not prepared for the story these specific flags would tell.

The journey began with a partnership. For years, we have worked alongside the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews (IFCJ), an organization that understands that the fate of Israel is a global concern. Following the horrors of October 7th, they launched an initiative called Flags of Fellowship.

On the first anniversary of the massacre in 2024, AVI was among the first organizations in Canada to take part. Through Flags of Fellowship, we planted 1,200 Israeli flags in the earth directly in front of our office, one for every life stolen on Oct. 7th. For weeks, they stood as a silent, defiant memorial against the Canadian autumn. 

AVI students, alumni, and staff join thousands in downtown Toronto waving Iranian and Israeli flags for a Jewish-Iranian solidarity rally on April 26, 2026

Shortly after, AVI was asked to provide flags for a “YYZ to TLV” celebration – a night dedicated to the resilience of Tel Aviv’s spirit. I told the organizers the truth, that the flags had been in the dirt and were part of a memorial.

At first, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But they immediately responded saying that actually made the flags more meaningful. Suddenly, the flags that had stood in the soil of grief were being waved in a room full of music and celebration. The dirt on the sticks wasn't a blemish but a badge of honour.

The flags' journey quickly shifted from the communal to the geopolitical. Last month, AVI was invited to partner on a massive rally in support of the people of Iran with our friends at Cyrus the Great. We brought hundreds of these same flags with stained bases.

Standing on the streets of downtown Toronto, I watched as at least 500 Iranian and Jewish Canadians took those flags from our hands. They weren't just waving them out of polite solidarity but as symbols of a strategic partnership. To the thousands who attended the rally, the Israeli flag represents a shared struggle against the IRGC and the tyranny of the Ayatollahs. It represents a future where the children of Cyrus and the children of Israel are once again brothers-in-arms.

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AVI staff join hundreds in the Greater Toronto Area to celebrate the 35th anniversary of the Republic of Somaliland (May 9, 2026)

As we distributed the flags, we found ourselves explaining the earth on the dowels once more. To the Iranian activists, that connection to the ground and to Israel made the gesture even more impactful.

Then, last week, I was invited to speak at the 35th anniversary of the establishment of the Republic of Somaliland in Toronto. I went there to support their quest for recognition and to stand as a Zionist ally to their cause.

I hadn't planned on bringing the flags. But after my speech, one attendee approached me with a request: “Do you have any Israeli flags?”

Fortunately, a few dozen remained from our original memorial and were in the trunk of my car after the Iranian rally. I gave the same disclaimer about the mud. And once again, it was ignored. I watched as over a hundred Somalilanders – devout Muslims and staunch advocates for their own sovereignty – waved the blue and white alongside the flag of Somaliland.

AVI staff and alumni march proudly with Israeli flags at UJA's 2025 Walk with Israel

There is a prevailing narrative, often echoed in the halls of the UN and on hostile university campuses, that Israel is alone. That there is no one who stands alongside us.

If these flags could talk, they would tell you that narrative is not necessarily always true.

They would tell you they have been held by Jews in mourning, by Iranians in revolt, and by Somalilanders in celebration. They would tell you that they have traveled from the dirt of a memorial to the frontlines of international solidarity.

A few of those flags are back in our office now. They are a little dirtier, a little more worn, and infinitely more valuable. They remind us that while the isolation of Israel may be the headline, the reality is found in the dirt-stained hands of our allies. While it doesn't always feel like it, and understandably so, we are not alone – and the flags have the mud to prove it.