Answer

I generally do not explain other people’s approaches. But in this case I also agree with them. I do not understand what requires explanation here. The matter is as plain as day. Here is a column of mine precisely on this issue, which will be published in Shabbaton this coming Sabbath:
On Religious Zionism and Hyphens: Another Look at “The Third Path”
Michael Abraham, “The Third Path”
 
This Sabbath falls on the fifth of Iyar, and that is an opportunity to devote a few words to the meaning of Independence Day. As is well known, every Independence Day the Rabbi of Ponevezh used to hang a flag on the roof of the yeshiva (Dov Genachovsky once told me that he sat with him on the roof to protect the flag from the yeshiva students, who were more “Haredi” and zealous than their rabbi). In the prayers of that day, the rabbi customarily did not say Tachanun, but he also did not say Hallel. When people asked him to explain this, he answered: “I am as Zionist as Ben-Gurion. He too does not say Hallel or Tachanun on Independence Day.” When I lived in Bnei Brak, many of the people I spoke with saw this as a joke at the expense of the Religious Zionists, but in my opinion the rabbi meant the exact opposite: he did not say Tachanun because in his eyes this was a festive day, but he did not say Hallel, apparently because he refused to see it as a religious matter. True, even for an ordinary physical deliverance it is fitting to say Hallel (and it need not have any special religious dimension), but perhaps he acted this way in order to express his reservation about those who see this day as a metaphysical-religious matter. In short, in my opinion the Rabbi of Ponevezh was a religious Zionist, and nevertheless there is here a slight but important reservation.
Joseph Burg once said that the main thing in Religious-Zionism is neither the Zionism nor the religiosity, but the hyphen between them. A Religious-Zionist (with a hyphen) is a person whose Zionism is religious and whose religiosity is Zionist. By contrast, Yeshayahu Leibowitz once said that he was a religious Jew and a secular Zionist. A religious Zionist without a hyphen. That, apparently, was also the Rabbi of Ponevezh. He rejoiced in the sovereignty and independence his people had attained, but he did not see them as part of his religious world. He was Zionist like Ben-Gurion.
Seeing a religious dimension in the establishment of the State and in the Zionist movement is not necessary. One can feel identification with the process as a member of the Jewish people, without committing oneself to the metaphysical and theological conceptions attached to it. This option is indeed in the background, but it seems to me that it is not on the table as a formulated alternative to the two metaphysical conceptions: Religious-Zionism (with a hyphen) and Haredi anti-Zionism. After the long and difficult years of exile, we merited a sovereign state in which we can argue peacefully with one another without interference from the gentiles. Even if this is not the beginning of the redemption or the terrible deed of the Other Side, may His Honor be exalted, one can and should rejoice and give thanks for it. In a survey conducted by foreign journalists in the 1950s, Israeli intellectuals were asked why they were Zionists. Leibowitz answered: Because we’re fed up of the GOYIM. This is Zionism devoid of commitment to any metaphysical thesis. Just an ordinary normal and sensible person who feels part of his people. Like Ben-Gurion and like the Rabbi of Ponevezh. This approach also prevents quite a few distortions in the practical sphere, and I will illustrate this with an anecdote.
In an article I once published in the journal Tzohar, I mentioned Leibowitz, and to my amazement I discovered that in the edited text his name appeared only as initials (Prof. L.). When I asked why, the editor answered that this was an instruction from Rabbi Zvi Yehuda to his students. I asked him: what about Ben-Gurion, who was mentioned in the article by name — why was he not censored? He answered that this was the instruction (devoid of logic, just like the instructions imposed on the lamplighter in The Little Prince). This absurd conception is not foreign to the ear of the average Religious-Zionist. The religious dimension within Religious-Zionism causes the Zionist-national conception to take a more important and central place in their eyes than commitment to Torah and commandments.
Religious Zionism (without a hyphen) is, in my estimation, a view held by most Haredim. They may not see the State as the beginning of the redemption, but they want the state in which they live to succeed, flourish, and be secure. On the Religious-Zionist side as well, I think this view has quite a few adherents. The third path opens before people of this type, both from the Religious-Zionist side and from the Haredi side, a way to adopt such a sober approach to our reality and to abandon the fixed issues around which we have been clashing fruitlessly for more than a hundred years.