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The New Reality That American Jews Must Be Ready For
The Left increasingly rejects Israel. The Right is moving on. Now what?
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For generations, American Jews operated under an assumption that seemed almost permanent: Whatever disagreements existed between Jerusalem and Washington, the American-Israeli alliance was fundamentally secure.
Republicans and Democrats argued over tactics. Israeli governments came and went. American administrations shifted priorities. But beneath it all was a broad bipartisan consensus that Israel was an ally and strategic partner that enjoyed support across the American political spectrum.
That assumption is becoming increasingly difficult to sustain.
American Jews today find themselves in an impossible position because they are watching support for Israel erode from both directions at the same time.
On the political Left, Israel has increasingly been transformed from an ally into a villain. In many “progressive” circles that are increasingly influencing the traditional American Left, Israel is no longer viewed as a small democracy confronting extraordinary security challenges. Instead, it has been recast as a colonial project, an oppressor state, and a symbol of everything deemed wrong by the latest iteration of “progressive” politics.
The accusations grow longer every year: colonialism, apartheid, genocide, ethnic cleansing, crimes against humanity. Whatever concept happens to dominate the contemporary “social justice” vocabulary eventually finds its way into the conversation about Israel. The facts often become secondary. The complexity of the conflict becomes irrelevant. History is compressed into simplistic narratives of oppressor and oppressed.
In this worldview, Israel is not a country facing difficult choices. It is a pariah state whose existence itself is promptly questioned.
Many American Jews who spent their lives identifying with “progressive” causes now find themselves politically homeless. They are told that support for Israel is incompatible with the values they have held for decades. Some are pressured to choose between their Jewish identity, their Zionist identity, and their political identity.
But while much attention has focused on the erosion of support on the Left, something equally important is happening on the Right. A growing segment of the American Right is embracing a more isolationist worldview. Rather than seeing international alliances as strategic assets, many increasingly ask a simple question: “What does this do for America?”
Vice President JD Vance, who is likely to vie for the next presidency as the Republican candidate, just yesterday articulated this perspective when discussing Israel and the Islamic Republic of Iran.
“The United States and Israel have a lot of shared interests,” he said, “but we also have some situations where our interests diverge.” He continued by explaining that the administration believes it can achieve a long-term settlement regarding Iran’s nuclear program and added: “Israel may like that, they may not like that. But fundamentally, we think this is in the best interest of the United States of America.”
That last phrase is the most important part of his statement — “the best interest of the United States of America.”
There is nothing inherently wrong with that position. In fact, it is exactly what American leaders are supposed to do. The American government exists to advance American interests. American taxpayers should expect their elected officials to prioritize America. No one should be shocked when American or Canadian or British or French or Australian or South African leaders make decisions based on what they believe benefits their own country.
But that reality carries implications that many American Jews have been reluctant to confront. If America is going to do what is best for America, then Israel must do what is best for Israel, and American Jews must do what is best for American Jews.
Such interests will not always align. Sometimes they will overlap significantly. Sometimes they will diverge. Sometimes they will collide. That is not a sign of betrayal. It is the natural reality of international relations and inter-societal dynamics.
Nations do not have permanent friendships. They have permanent interests. America used to be difficult for Jewish immigrants, then it became one of the greatest countries ever for us, and now it is becoming something else, something we cannot totally predict but should undoubtedly prepare for.
For decades, many American Jews viewed the U.S.-Israel relationship through a lens of shared values, shared history, and shared democratic principles. Those things remain important. But increasingly, policymakers in Washington are evaluating relationships through different frameworks, some of which make no real sense, but all of which we will have to accept and deal with if and when they become reality.
Regardless, it means American Jews can no longer assume that support for Israel will remain a bipartisan political constant. On the Left, support is eroding because Israel is increasingly viewed as morally illegitimate. On the Right, support may erode because Israel is increasingly viewed as someone else’s problem. Those are very different arguments, but they can produce similar outcomes.
This leaves American Jews in an extraordinarily difficult position. Many feel increasingly alienated from “progressive” movements that once felt like home. At the same time, they are discovering that conservative support for Israel may be more conditional or limited than they previously believed.
The result is a growing sense of uncertainty — not because America is abandoning Israel tomorrow, not because the alliance is disappearing overnight, but because the assumptions that governed the relationship for decades are becoming less reliable.
American Jews now face a reality that previous generations rarely had to contemplate: the possibility that support for Israel could become neither automatic nor bipartisan, and the possibility that American Jews will not enjoy the “halo effect” that the decades which followed the Holocaust offered us.
So what should American Jews do?
The answer is not to panic. It is not to retreat. And it is certainly not to spend the next days, months, and years chasing causes or political movements that increasingly view us as expendable.
The first response should be to renew and deepen our relationship with Israel, because Israel is our family. For decades, many American Jewstreated Zionism as an optional accessory to Jewish identity — something nice to have, something important, but something not entirely essential. Something that could be emphasized or de-emphasized depending on a variety of circumstances and dynamics.
Those days are over.
If support for Israel is becoming less automatic internationally, then the Jewish connection to Israel must become more intentional. If others are questioning Israel’s legitimacy, Jews should become more confident in understanding and articulating our own story. If Israel is becoming more isolated, then Jews should become more connected.
Now is not the time to create distance between ourselves and the Jewishstate. It is the time to deepen our relationship with it — across Israeli culture, society, history, language, and the shared destiny that binds Jews together across continents.
Visit Israel, increase your knowledge of its history and present-day challenges, build relationships with more Israelis, support more Israeli organizations, invest in more Israeli startups and real estate and other ventures, engage with more Israeli culture, and study more Zionism.
The answer to a weakening alliance is not a weakening Jewish connection. It is a stronger one.
The second response is equally important: American Jews must turn toward one another. For too long, we have allowed ourselves to be divided into ideological tribes that increasingly have more loyalty to political identities than to Jewish peoplehood. You know the drill: Reform versus Orthodox, religious versus secular, liberal versus conservative, Ashkenazi versus Sephardic and Mizrahi, Zionist versus indifferent about Israel. We have spent years arguing over what separates us while forgetting what unites us.
The coming years and decades will require us to rediscover something previous generations understood instinctively: that whatever our disagreements, we are one people. American Jewry’s future will not be secured by political parties. It will not be secured by social movements. It will not be secured by hashtags, activists, or politicians. It will be secured by Jews who feel responsible for other Jews, by Jews who choose solidarity over factionalism, by Jews who understand that Jewish continuity has never depended on unanimity. It has depended on unity.
In practicality, this means more Jews doing more Jewish things, like joining more Jewish organizations and communities, attending more Jewish events, starting and joining more Jewish causes, supporting more Jewishorganizations, celebrating more Jewish holidays, learning more Jewishhistory, studying more Jewish texts, doing more Jewish volunteering, making more Jewish friends — heck, even making more Jewish babies.
As the Babylonian Talmud teaches us: “All Israel are responsible for one another” (Kol Yisrael arevim zeh bazeh).
One thing I’ve learned during my time living in Israel is that the vast majority of Israelis intrinsically understand this principle. Sure, Israelis argue endlessly with one another. We fight over politics, religion, economics, the courts, military policy, and virtually every issue imaginable. But beneath those disagreements lies a shared understanding: We are still one people.
When war breaks out, soldiers do not ask who voted for which party before risking their lives to protect one another or the country. When families are displaced by missiles and rockets, volunteers do not check whether they are religious or secular before delivering food, clothing, and supplies. When tragedy strikes, Israelis instinctively mobilize for one another because they understand that our common fate matters more than our variety of differences.
We debate fiercely, but we never lose sight of a fundamental truth: Our disagreements do not cancel our responsibility to one another.
Now more than ever, it seems as though it would be wise for American Jews— and, by extension, Canadian Jews, French Jews, British Jews, Australian Jews, etc. — to adopt this same mentality.
The question for American Jews to contemplate is not whether America will change. Every country changes. Every political coalition changes. Every alliance changes. The real question is whether Jews will strengthen the institutions, relationships, identities, and commitments that endure when everything else changes around us.
For decades, American Jews enjoyed a level of security, acceptance, and political comfort unprecedented in Jewish history. Many came to assume those conditions were permanent. Our new reality suggests otherwise, yet the uneasy position facing American Jews may ultimately contain an unexpected gift: It may force us to remember who we really are.
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