Violence against media outlets and journalists has become commonplace. Politicians on both the right and the left routinely declare their intention to shut down news organizations, and just last month the Knesset passed legislation that will dramatically affect Israel’s media landscape. These developments pose a twofold threat to a free press: outright silencing and the self-censorship of media organizations and journalists. Unless this trend is stopped, Israel will become a “democracy” in name only.

A free press is the lifeblood of democracy at all times, but especially during elections. Without it, the government cannot be held to account, nor can alternatives to its policies be presented. Although freedom of expression is clearly recognized as a protected fundamental value in Israel, that protection still rests on Supreme Court precedent. It has yet to be enshrined in the Basic Laws – Israel’s de facto, albeit problematic, constitutional structure. This leaves the free press inherently vulnerable. And the situation is getting worse. Of the 180 countries included in the 2025 World Press Freedom Index, Israel ranked 116th – somewhere between Lebanon and Tanzania.

The assault on Israel’s media is not new, but it appears to be intensifying. What makes it dangerous is the convergence of three forces that, together, could cripple the press’s ability to fulfill its democratic role. The first is politicians’ relentless attacks on media outlets. We have grown numb to such rhetoric, but labels such as “enemy of the people,” “Al Jazeera 12,” and “poison channels” have become standard political rhetoric against Israeli broadcasters. Such rhetoric has been accompanied by calls from politicians – including self-described “democrats” such as Yair Golan, leader of Israel’s Democrats party – to censor outlets they dislike. Golan, for example, has vowed to shut down Channel 14, Israel’s most right-wing TV station, should he come to power.

Whether or not such inflammatory rhetoric foments violence, attacks on media organizations and reporters in Israel have become almost routine. Last week, Channel 12’s offices were vandalized for a second time, its glass doors smashed and a handwritten death threat left at the scene. The Tel Aviv offices of Haaretz have likewise been attacked more times than anyone can count. Journalists are also repeatedly assaulted while doing their jobs. Channel 14 reporters, for example, have recently been assailed several times while covering events in “left-wing strongholds.” Reporters are assaulted almost indiscriminately in Judea and Samaria (the West Bank), where “hilltop youth” unleash their anger on the press, and at Haredi demonstrations, where violence against media crews has become standard operating procedure.

Compounding these dangers is the threat of institutional pressure from the government. The law advanced by Communications Minister Shlomo Karhi and passed by the Knesset last week is a case in point. Under the guise of promoting competition in the media market, it politicizes the council charged with regulating the media. Political control over the body that sets media rules and oversees their enforcement is a clear and present danger to the freedom of expression of the outlets it regulates.

Against this backdrop, the obvious danger is to the press’s ability to operate freely and perform its democratic function. But there is another, less visible and unquantifiable threat that is no less serious: self-censorship and self-imposed constraints. In an environment where covering a demonstration can end in injury, criticizing the IDF can prompt stones to be hurled at a newsroom, and criticizing government policy can result in restrictions on a news organization, every journalist may ask whether the risk is worth taking – the risk of going into the field to cover events; the risk of exposing the truth and inviting regulatory, political, or even physical attacks.

Israel’s free press will not die overnight. But it can slowly wither and censor itself, ultimately harming all sides of the political spectrum – until Israeli democracy as we know it fades with it.

Published in TOI

The post ‘Enemy of the people’? A free press is democracy’s lifeblood first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

Nearly three years into this unconscionable spike in Jew-hatred, cultivated through decades of academic anti-Zionism, universities still don’t get it. Until they respond as teachers running educational institutions not bureaucrats running Communist re-education camps, the crisis will fester.

This summer, when a Cornell student refused a second job interview with: “Not interested in working for a jew…,” the response to him was too political and legalistic. Exposed, he doubled down, telling The Cornell Daily Sun that he realized the interviewers were Jewish based on their “first and last name, LinkedIn, and physiognomy” – the last word uniting today’s manosphere with yesterday’s Nazis.

Defending free speech while fighting bigotry and avoiding thought-policing isn’t easy. But a recent Chronicle of Higher Education article about the incident illustrated academics’ overly-politicized and disappointingly sterile approach. Thirty percent of the op-ed bashed President Trump and his appointees, assuming that Cornell officials only investigated this as a possible “bias incident” to placate the administration.

Cornell, the author argued, “should not be ‘investigating’ anyone for what they have said. Its own ‘Core Values’ statement declares that ‘free and open inquiry and expression’ — even of ‘ideas some may consider wrong or offensive’ — is fundamental to the university.” Warning of a slippery slope, while shifting the conversation from bigoted language to inflammatory political remarks, the author wondered: If Cornell “penalizes” the student “for declaring that he doesn’t want to work for Jews, who will be next? Someone who says Israel is committing genocide? Or that the university should boycott it?”

This clever category switch is absurd, given how universities spent years squelching speech. Academics have repeatedly – and unacceptably — bullied those with dissenting views on issues of race, gender, immigration, among other politically-correct causes – while protecting blacks, women, gays, but often not Jews. In 2020, students boycotted a Cornell University Law Professor, William Jacobson, for calling Black Lives Matters’ founders “anti-American, anti-capitalist activists.” His dean denounced him.

Other professors have suffered macro-career disruptions over supposed micro-aggressions – one veteran UCLA prof endured student sit-ins and was saddled with extra colleagues encroaching on his course for correcting grammar in papers.

While avoiding such assaults on free speech in the future, universities must also acknowledge their record of selective outrage.

In the Cornell case, apply a simple substitution test for consistency. Flip a switch. Replace “black,” “woman,” “gay,” “lesbian,” or “trans” in the sentence “Not interested in working for a jew.” Similarly, the student escalated on X, tweeting: “My experiences with Jews have not been pleasant….” Wouldn’t it be “bias” if he overgeneralized about others, saying “my experiences” with blacks or women or Catholics or Latinos “have not been pleasant?” Universities’ assault on bigotry cannot depend on “the context” — when “context” essentially means “it’s OK to target Jews.”

Hysteria and browbeating don’t help. Modeling that spirit, the employer who received the bigoted response posted it without the student’s name. “He’s just a student, he might not know any better — it could be people in his environment, or on social media he saw something about Jewish people and he is just following the wave,” the spurned boss, Gabe Einhorn, told the Cornell Sun. (Others online outed the student).

And this case is particularly confusing. Refusing a Jew because you’re a bigot isn’t “discrimination.” The student didn’t offend a fellow Cornellian, which dilutes the assault on the “community.”

Also, the student sought employment privately – does it concern Cornell if the university placement office helped, but is it irrelevant if he networked independently? Does placing Cornell’s name on his CV make anything he does on the job relevant to the university? Does that involvement end with graduation?

Fighting bigotry requires balance, perspective, wisdom. The cancel culture craze revealed how suffocating it is to police every word, gesture, interaction, and how self-destructive it is when universities divert massive resources into creating bureaucracies monitoring students’ thoughts. Moreover, it’s always better to err on the side of fostering free speech than banning it.

Here, then, is the misfire in the anti-bias conversation, that highlights one of the modern universities’ greatest failures. These are educational institutions. But most universities have allowed bureaucrats – in Washington and on campus – to hijack what could be “teachable moments.” Technical legalistic bureaucratese keeps eclipsing the moral language and character building that should be ingrained into campus culture.

Cornell[s “mission” is “to educate the next generation of global citizens….” Global citizens are cultivated by thoughtful, challenging professors committed to educating not punishing. Did any of this student’s professors or fellow students – Jewish or non-Jewish — contact him, explaining why the statement embarrassed him and the university, then inspire him to be better? And, did any one within the Jewish community, formally or inflormally, do the same, explaining how, especially today, such matter-of-fact bigotry is so morally repulsive?

Next month, most universities will welcome their new students with orientations. Most will offer anti-bias or sensitivity training reflecting today’s ideological circus, with all the soul of a computer instruction manual. Just as modern professors and administrators fail to build their community through bold, out-of-the-box, “I-thou” moments, these training sessions will fail to begin fostering what’s really needed to create diverse communities filled with critical thought and mutual respect.

It’s better to assign great, thought-provoking books than to list dos-and-don’ts. Today’s bureaucratic, hyper-politicized, and cowardly professoriate forgets that, as Ralph Waldo Emerson taught: “Character is higher than intellect…. A great soul will be strong to live, as well as strong to think.”

Then again, perhaps these paint-by-numbers posturing sessions are precisely the orientation students need to grab their credentials and parrot back the certitudes imposed by far too many in today’s classroom.

Published in the Jewish Journal

The post Professors Should Fight Campus Jew-Hatred as Educators, Not Bureaucrats first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

The US-Israel relationship has rarely been stronger militarily – even if at the same time, it currently seems strained politically.

On the one hand, ask almost any senior IDF officer – from the chief of staff down – and they will tell you that cooperation with the United States military, particularly the United States Central Command (CENTCOM), has never been closer.

The American military presence in Israel is unprecedented, with personnel deployed at Air Force bases and other locations across the country.

Discussions are already underway about turning parts of this deployment into a more permanent presence, one that would include joint analysis of enemies and targets, enhanced intelligence sharing, and expanded training in Israel and neighboring countries alongside American and other allied militaries.

Yet, while at the operational level, the relationship between both countries is extraordinarily close, at the political level a very different picture is emerging.

It is no secret that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his government have limited influence over decision-making in Washington right now, particularly when it comes to Iran. While the US is attacking Iran every night, Israel has been ordered to sit on the sidelines. It has not even been invited to join the operation in the Strait of Hormuz, even as the US openly calls on other nations to do so.

And then there were Vice President JD Vance’s comments this week on Joe Rogan’s podcast – specifically his accusations that Israel has been running a campaign against him personally to pressure the US into widening the war with Iran. This can only be described as a Joint Direct Attack Munition (JDAM)-like precision strike against the foundations of the US-Israel alliance.

These were not the comments of a fringe commentator or an isolationist member of Congress. They came from the vice president of the United States, a leading contender to inherit the MAGA movement and potentially the presidency itself. Then there was President Donald Trump’s apparent decision to move ahead with the sale of the fifth-generation F-35 to Turkey, which would make it only the second country in the region, after Israel, to operate the stealth aircraft.

Add to that Wednesday night’s signing of an agreement on a civilian nuclear program with Saudi Arabia – initially announced without connection to the Abraham Accords, something Trump later clarified was in fact connected – and it is hard to escape the conclusion that Israel has, at least for the moment, been pushed somewhat to the side.

The F-35 sale to Turkey will directly challenge Israel’s qualitative military edge. It is possible that Ankara will receive a modified version of the aircraft with capabilities slightly inferior to those of the Israeli fleet. It is also possible that Israel will be compensated with technological upgrades, new weapons systems, or other capabilities designed to preserve its advantage.

But none of that changes the broader strategic reality. Turkey is a dominant power in the region whose leader has a close relationship with Trump.

The Saudi agreement is no less consequential. A civilian nuclear program was originally supposed to be one of Washington’s primary cards for drawing Riyadh into a normalization agreement with Israel. Even though Trump has said that it is connected to the Abraham Accords, time will tell. For now, Saudi Arabia is saying that it will not normalize relations as long as Israel remains in a state of conflict in Gaza.

Could something more be happening beneath the surface, beyond what the public – and perhaps even many government officials – currently know? Of course. The Abraham Accords themselves were known to only a small number of people before their announcement in August 2020. It is possible that the Saudi nuclear agreement is one piece of a broader process that will eventually lead to normalization with Israel.

But as of now, there is no indication that this is the case.

Even if such a process were underway, it is difficult to imagine what Israel’s contribution could currently be. The idea that this government, particularly in the run-up to the upcoming election, could meaningfully advance a political process with the Palestinians is detached from political reality.

Netanyahu cannot afford to make any serious concessions at the same time that he is fighting for his political survival. Any move that could be portrayed as a concession to the Palestinians runs the risk of alienating even his most loyal and dedicated followers.

Add to the mix recent meetings Trump has had with Arab leaders while refusing to schedule a meeting with Netanyahu (it is possible that something will change on that front next week, now that the funeral plans for the late Sen. Lindsey Graham have been announced).

This week, President Joseph Aoun became the first Lebanese head of state to visit the White House in almost two decades. The week before, Trump hosted Iraq’s new prime minister, Ali al-Zaidi. Earlier this month, Trump met with Ahmed al-Sharaa, the former al-Qaeda jihadist who now serves as president of Syria, on the sidelines of the NATO summit in Ankara.

Taken individually, each meeting can be explained. Viewed together, they begin to form a pattern, one that does not include Israel.

Israel’s victories, others’ diplomacy

Ironically, though, while Israel might be left out of the room, the fact that cannot be ignored is that many of the regional changes that these leaders are discussing with Trump would not have come about had it not been for Israel. Zaidi is working closely with the US to weaken and dismantle Iranian-backed militias in Iraq. Sharaa would almost certainly not have come to power had Israel not devastated the Iranian axis and, in particular, Hezbollah.

Aoun would not be treated as a regional leader worthy of presidential attention had Israel not dramatically weakened Hezbollah and created an opening for the Lebanese state to begin asserting itself. That opening has now led to a new pilot program under which the IDF has started withdrawing from several villages in southern Lebanon and allowing the Lebanese Armed Forces to try to take control and prevent Hezbollah from returning.

Over the last three years, Israel weakened Iran, shattered Hezbollah, helped bring about the collapse of the Assad regime in Syria, struck the Houthis in Yemen, and severely degraded Hamas in Gaza.

The scale of the transformation is difficult to overstate.

Which raises the obvious question: How is it that Israel, after paying such a tremendous price and doing so much to transform the region, now appears to be sidelined from some of the diplomacy and strategic planning that this transformation has made possible?

Whether it is the emerging American relationships with Lebanon and Iraq, negotiations over Iran, the Saudi nuclear agreement, Turkey’s return to the F-35 program, or even the future of Gaza, Israel increasingly appears to be watching others shape the regional order.

The answer is not that Israel has suddenly become militarily irrelevant. The unprecedented cooperation with CENTCOM proves the opposite. Instead, the problem appears to be political. After a meeting this week between representatives of the Board of Peace and Netanyahu, it became strikingly clear to its members that almost nothing significant will move forward while Israel remains in an election cycle.

Of all the unresolved issues, Gaza is the most politically explosive for Netanyahu.

Any step – even something as limited as allowing caravans into Gaza to provide temporary shelter for displaced civilians – risks being framed by his coalition partners and political rivals as a concession.

Ahead of an election, Netanyahu will not take that risk.

Israel, therefore, finds itself in a deeply troubling position. Its soldiers have created new opportunities across the Middle East, but its political leadership is having trouble converting those achievements into formidable strategic gains. Military power can weaken enemies, destroy infrastructure, and open diplomatic doors. It cannot, by itself, decide what lies on the other side.

That requires political initiative, creativity, and a government capable of looking beyond the next election. Without this, Israel risks discovering that it fought the wars, paid the price, and transformed the region – only for others to write the new Middle East without it.

Published in the Jerusalem Post

The post Has Israel been sidelined as the new regional order is being written? first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

Last week, I spent part of a morning visiting four pharmacies to collect my father’s regular medications.

It was an ordinary family errand, the kind countless households run without a second thought. Yet by the time I reached the final counter, I was listening less to my own list than to the medication names being repeated around me. Cipralex (escitalopram) for depression and anxiety. Bondormin (brotizolam) for severe insomnia. Lipitor (atorvastatin) to lower cholesterol. Vector (valsartan) for high blood pressure.

Different faces, different ailments. Yet by the fourth pharmacy, the names had stopped sounding like unrelated prescriptions. Heard together, they suggested a kind of national medical record. No four pharmacies can diagnose a country. But they can offer a glimpse of the hidden toll of prolonged conflict: a burden that draws far less notice than combat, statecraft, or parliamentary debate.

Israelis have grown used to measuring the price of conflict in familiar ways. We follow the fate of the hostages. We count the dead and the wounded. We track economic losses and the shifting fronts. These are the visible scars.

Far less attention is paid to the damage that accumulates quietly inside the human body. Since October 2023, the lives of many Israelis have been measured not only by calendars but by sirens, mobilizations, funerals, evacuations, and the anxious wait for the next emergency.

What began with the deadliest attack on Jews since the Holocaust evolved into months of reserve duty, repeated missile barrages, mass displacement, wars in Gaza and Lebanon, two military operations against Iran, and an almost uninterrupted state of national emergency.

Wars shape foreign policy. Long wars reshape societies.

The European debate has become sharply attuned to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s policies. It has devoted far less attention to the Israeli society that has been transformed by the years of conflict in which those policies have unfolded.

That quieter dimension of Israeli life rarely enters the broader conversation. Instead, much of Europe’s debate about Israel revolves around the occupied territories, settler violence, humanitarian law, military operations, trade measures, research cooperation, and targeted sanctions.

These are legitimate issues, and every democracy at war should expect scrutiny. Yet the intensity of these debates can sometimes obscure the society that lives beyond them. Beneath the headlines are millions of Israelis who go to work each morning, take children to school, care for elderly parents, and search for fragments of ordinary life while uncertainty has become a permanent companion. One can strongly oppose decisions made by the Israeli government while also recognizing the psychological burden carried by Israeli society.

These positions are not incompatible. To recognize the wounds carried by Israeli civilians is not to deny the suffering of Palestinians. It is to resist a politics in which empathy is treated as a limited resource. Compassion for civilians should never depend on agreement over policy.

Perhaps this helps explain why Israelis and Europeans so often speak past one another. EU institutions and much of the European public debate tend to interpret Israel through the lenses of international and humanitarian law, diplomacy, and statecraft. Israelis, by contrast, experience the consequences in their homes, workplaces, schools, hospitals, and neighborhood pharmacies.

The same events arrive in Brussels as questions of policy and in Beersheba as questions of the pulse.

Beyond the pharmacy counter

The European Union was built to free its member states from the cycle of war that had scarred the continent for centuries. Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine shattered the assumption that large-scale interstate conflict had become a relic of Europe’s past. Across the continent, governments once again speak of deterrence, defense, and rearmament.

Yet for most Europeans, war remains something observed just beyond their borders rather than woven into the fabric of everyday life. For Israelis, it is part of daily existence. That difference shapes more than foreign policy. It shapes how societies perceive risk, define security, and understand what it means to live a normal life.

The EU will continue debating Israel’s policies, and rightly so. But if it wishes to understand the society it critiques, it must also look beyond government offices in Jerusalem and diplomatic briefings. That understanding begins not only in the corridors of government but also in rehabilitation wards, psychiatric clinics, emergency rooms, and yes, even in neighborhood pharmacies.

If prolonged conflict has created a shared challenge, it has also created common ground. Despite profound disagreements, Israel and Europe continue to work together in medicine, trauma care, mental health, and biomedical research. At a time when calls have grown in parts of Europe to restrict Israel’s participation in European research frameworks, including Horizon Europe, policymakers should take special care not to weaken civilian medical, trauma, mental-health, and biomedical partnerships.

These efforts address shared human challenges that transcend politics. They are among the few areas in which cooperation benefits both societies, regardless of their political differences. As I carried my father’s medication home, I realized that the names I had heard throughout the morning were telling a story that extended far beyond the pharmacy counter.

Historians will record the battles, the ceasefires, and the treaties. Political scientists, international relations specialists, and legal scholars will debate strategy, deterrence, and international law. They should. But another archive exists, one that rarely appears in history books. It is written not in official statements or military reports, but in the prescriptions that pass quietly from pharmacist to patient each day.

I walked into those four pharmacies to collect medication for my father. I walked out thinking about a country. What I heard that morning was not evidence of a nation growing weaker. It was a reminder that the deepest wounds of war are not always visible. Long after the sirens fall silent and the headlines fade, conflict leaves its mark on hearts, minds, and bodies. That may prove to be its longest afterlife.

Published in the Jerusalem Post

The post Europe, Israel, and the medical record of a nation first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

Any graduate of a respectable Israeli kindergarten has learned that the Second Temple was destroyed “because of baseless hatred.” Every adult Israeli knows to warn against its recurrence in our time. But history tells a different story. The destruction of the Second Temple – followed some 60 years later by the near-destruction of Jewish settlement in the Land of Israel after the Bar Kokhba revolt was crushed – resulted chiefly from nationalist and religious zealotry. Then as now, this fanaticism imperils the Jewish state.

When the extremes set the terms of public discourse – and, more dangerously, of politics – they can bring renewed Jewish sovereignty to an end. Only the determination of a moderate majority, committed to the broadest possible common ground, can safeguard and strengthen Israel as it approaches its centennial.

The destruction of the Second Temple, the devastation of Jewish life in the Land of Israel, and the onset of 2,000 years of exile are well-documented historical events. Like every major historical event, there wasn’t a single cause. Still, if we distill the factors that ultimately produced the catastrophe from the multitude of surviving sources, two stand out: the collapse of internal Jewish governance and the religious and nationalist zealotry that eroded it.

These forces drove the process, made the destruction possible, and greatly accelerated it. The burning of one another’s food stores in Jerusalem by extremists from rival camps is the starkest symbol of their conduct over many years. Had we interviewed them, they would have insisted that nothing they did was “baseless.” Like rigid ideologues everywhere, each possessed a coherent worldview that drove them to fanaticism, civil war, and blindness to external threats.

The parallels with Israel on Tisha B’Av 5786 are frightening. Israelis plainly fear that cohesion is eroding and society is unraveling. According to JPPI’s Israeli Society Index, 55 percent of Israelis consider internal division the gravest threat facing the country, compared with 23% who cite the Iranian threat. No less than 80% are worried about Israel’s social condition. The good news is that most Israelis also believe that “on the issues that matter, most Israelis agree with one another.” In other words, at the heart of Israeli society is a broad public that regards our deepest disputes as solvable.

But today, too, the zealots are the problem. Across every hard issue dividing Israeli society – in foreign affairs and public policy, but above all in domestic disputes – extremists will do everything they can to thwart compromise or accommodation. The battle over the judiciary is a glaring example; it has already dragged us toward the abyss of civil war. Legal experts and experienced politicians know full well that compromise and solutions are possible – and could have been reached throughout the past several years. It was fanatics on both the right and the left who were prepared to “die” over every last jot and tittle.

Another example is Israeli policy in Judea and Samaria (the West Bank). Everyone familiar with the issue understands that the far right’s tacit backing of Jewish terrorism could cost Israel dangerously international isolation. Yet here, too, the zealots set the tone. And all this while the enemy is at the gates and Israel is fighting on seven fronts.

Just as Yom Kippur is the appointed time for personal self-examination, Tisha B’Av is the occasion for social and national reckoning. On the day when, twice in our history, Jewish sovereignty was lost, we Israelis should gather in the shadow of mourning and fasting to take stock of our national life. We must look into the mirror of both distant and recent history, recognize the terrible consequences of burning our storehouses – literal and symbolic – and choose a worthy path. This is not a call for bland centrism. It is a call to reject fanatical extremists and choose a national life grounded in fellowship and in a renewed emphasis on what unites us.

Published in TOI

The post Zealotry – not baseless hatred – will lead to Israel’s collapse first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

Are you a “Zionist”? Most Jews in Israel would answer with a resounding “yes.” Afterward, if we asked them what exactly that means, it isn’t certain they’d have a good answer. Truly, what is a Zionist? Zionism was a movement with a singular goal: to establish a national home for the Jewish people in the Land of Israel. That goal was achieved. Now, one can suggest at least three paths forward. First: the goal was achieved, and therefore there is no longer a need for “Zionism.” Second: the goal was achieved, but it requires ongoing maintenance, and supporting the prosperity of the national home of the Jewish people in the Land of Israel is “Zionism” in our times. Third: the goal was achieved, and therefore Zionism has changed its face, and now has a different objective or definition. What is this new definition? That, of course, is up for debate.

Either way, it is clear there is good reason to ponder what “Zionism” means, and perhaps consequently, the question of “Am I a Zionist?” Most of us are too sloppy or lazy to give a serious, methodical answer to this question. Therefore, for most of us, the almost automatic declaration of “I am a Zionist” is a gesture of sentiment more than an ideological stance. We are Zionists because we assume, largely correctly, that those who call themselves Zionists are on our side, and those who say they aren’t are against us.

Now we ask: Is this true? We can provide a rather nontrivial answer to this question when we examine recent surveys of Jews in the United States. Let’s look at two surveys. One is the JPPI Voice of the Jewish People Index, which samples a group of “connected” Jews. The second, from last week, is by NORC in partnership with the AP. This is a survey conducted among all Americans, but it includes a particularly large group (about 1,200) of American Jews, representing the broader spectrum of connected, less connected and even highly disconnected U.S. Jews.

The JPPI survey focuses on connected Jews, which guarantees in advance that there will be relatively few Jews holding a negative sentiment toward Zionism. But the survey asked not only the “are you a Zionist” question, but also whether “your Jewish friends” are Zionists. This is a question where to some extent, the “connectedness” bias becomes less pronounced. When connected Jews testify about friends, some of whom might be connected but others likely are not, we can see the difference. While 72% of connected Jews say “I am a Zionist,” only 43% say “most of my Jewish friends are Zionists.” Another 29% say their friends are “somewhat Zionist.” And this data point inches closer to the numbers seen in the NORC survey of all U.S. Jews. In that poll, 23% of Jews, less than a quarter, say the term “Zionist” describes their position very accurately (13%) or accurately (10%).

If they aren’t Zionists, are they antizionists? It turns out most of them aren’t; a fifth of Jews say the label “antizionist” suits them to some degree. And yet, against that one-fifth stand another four-fifths, eight out of ten Jews, for whom “antizionist” does not fit either.

Here we return to our original question: Is someone who doesn’t feel “Zionist” probably against us? And now we will answer explicitly: No. The Jews of America prove it. On one hand, many of them do not want to apply the “Zionist” label to themselves. On the other hand, few apply the “antizionist” label to themselves. If so, what are these Jews? The NORC survey offered a third definiton. It is good that it did, because we can learn quite a bit from it. It offered not only “Zionist” and “antizonist” (each in a separate question), it also offered “supporter of Israel as a Jewish state.” Meaning, not the familiar brand “Zionist,” but an explicit statement about Israel.

Seventy-three percent of Jews say they “support Israel as a Jewish state.” Half of them said this statement describes their position very well or well. Another 23% said “quite well.” Only 16% said no (11% didn’t know how to answer). Here, we have answered the question: A vast number of Jews who do not want to wear the “Zionist” garment support “Israel as a Jewish state.” Relatively few Jews do not support “Israel as a Jewish state.”

From this, a few conclusions. First: we can calm down. A large majority of U.S. Jews still support “Israel as a Jewish state.” The loud voices we hear, heralding a supposed sea change – that American Jews have turned hostile to Israel – are fringe voices that receive an echo vastly exaggerated in proportion to their real power. Second: the Zionism brand is in trouble, and it needs to be handled in one of two ways. One option is to simply abandon it. Sometimes a brand undergoes a semantic shift that is pointless to try and stop. We can switch to using a different word. A second option is to fight for it, which requires clarifying, teaching, and embedding its meaning. Do you want to convince Jews, and the world, that Zionism is a cause worth supporting? Explain what “Zionism” is, and perhaps it will turn out that the world is actually on our side.

Something I wrote in Hebrew

We found that Israelis are still able to agree with one another. Here’s what I wrote:

There is a consensus on two very important matters. The (bad) agreement with Iran is a significant issue; we must consider its implications and prepare for its consequences. The encouraging (calling it “good” seems a bit of a stretch to me) agreement with Lebanon is also a significant issue, one worth drawing a measure of optimism from in light of otherwise bleak regional developments. But even more than the consensus itself, what is encouraging is the pragmatism of the Israelis examining these two agreements. It is encouraging to see their ability to judge these deals on their actual merits, rather than on the identity of the politician who failed at them (yes, Netanyahu), or succeeded at them (yes, also Netanyahu).

Published in the Jewish Journal

The post Can You Be a Zionist Without Zionism? first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

Europe is discovering what Israel has long known: extreme heat is no longer an occasional emergency. It is becoming part of the continent’s new normal.

The recent heat dome that swept across the continent pushed temperatures to record levels, strained electricity grids, disrupted transport, and forced governments to issue public health warnings. Meteorologists warn that more major heat events are likely to follow. What was once exceptional is rapidly becoming routine.

For decades, European climate policy focused primarily on slowing global warming. The Green Deal became the European Union’s (EU) flagship project for reducing emissions and achieving climate neutrality. Those ambitions remain essential. But Europe now faces an equally urgent challenge. It must also learn how to adapt to a hotter world.

That challenge creates an opportunity to rethink one dimension of the relationship between Israel and the EU.

The conversation between Brussels and Jerusalem is usually dominated by disagreements over the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and wider regional politics. Those disagreements will continue.

Climate adaptation, however, offers a different agenda, one driven not by political division but by shared necessity. Extreme heat does not recognize borders or ideology. It tests farmers, physicians, engineers, urban planners, and governments alike.

This is where science diplomacy should take center stage.

Israel has spent generations building a modern state under conditions of chronic heat, scarce water, and recurring drought. Meeting those challenges required sustained investment in scientific research, technological innovation, and close cooperation among universities, government agencies, research institutes, and private industry.

Water illustrates the point. Today, roughly eighty percent of Israel’s drinking water comes from desalinated seawater. Combined with one of the world’s highest rates of wastewater reuse and decades of research on water-efficient agriculture, Israel has developed expertise that is increasingly relevant far beyond the Middle East.

Few European countries have built a national water system that combines desalination, wastewater recycling, and efficient water management on a comparable scale. That experience cannot simply be copied, but it can be studied, adapted, and improved through joint research.

Israeli researchers have also advanced drought-resistant crops, precision irrigation, renewable energy technologies, climate monitoring systems, and innovative approaches to managing scarce natural resources. These achievements belong to no single institution. They reflect decades of work across Israel’s universities, public laboratories, research centers, and technology sector.

Europe, for its part, brings equally important strengths. Its universities lead the world in climate science, environmental regulation, sustainable architecture, renewable energy, and urban planning. European institutions have also produced some of the world’s most ambitious climate legislation.

This is not a story of one side teaching the other. It is a partnership built on complementary strengths. Europe has become a global leader in reducing emissions. Israel has accumulated practical experience in adapting to heat and water scarcity. Together they can develop solutions that will benefit societies far beyond either region.

This is precisely the kind of partnership that Brussels and Jerusalem have spent decades building through scientific cooperation and research frameworks such as the Horizon Europe research program. These programs exist because both sides recognized that knowledge is among the strongest foundations of a durable relationship.

Yet today a striking contradiction has emerged.

At the precise moment Europe most needs climate-adaptation expertise, political pressure is growing in parts of the Union to suspend or restrict Israel’s participation in Horizon Europe. European governments are fully entitled to debate Israeli policies. But Europe will not strengthen its future by weakening scientific cooperation.

Climate change will not wait for political consensus. Every barrier to joint research reduces Europe’s ability to confront challenges ranging from water security and food production to energy resilience and public health. Excluding Israeli researchers would not slow global warming. It would simply deny the EU access to expertise that could help it adapt more effectively.

The historical dimension

There is also a deeper historical dimension to this story.

Israel’s first prime minister, David Ben-Gurion, believed that Israel’s future would be shaped in the Negev desert. He saw the desert not simply as territory to cultivate but as a laboratory where science and innovation would determine whether communities could flourish under arid conditions.

Almost 80 years later, that vision has acquired unexpected relevance. As Europe confronts longer droughts, more frequent wildfires, shrinking reservoirs, and increasingly dangerous summers, many of the questions Israeli scientists have explored for decades are becoming European questions as well.

None of this suggests that Israel has solved climate change. It has not. Israel continues to face rising temperatures and growing environmental pressures of its own. But experience matters, especially when it is shared with partners confronting similar realities.

For too long, relations between Israel and the EU have been viewed almost exclusively through the prism of political disagreement. A warming climate offers an opportunity to strengthen another pillar of the relationship, one built on scientific excellence, practical cooperation, and shared interests.

The next chapter in Israel-Europe relations may therefore be written not only in diplomatic meetings but also in laboratories, research centers, and university partnerships, where progress is measured by discovery rather than political rhetoric.

Europe is only beginning to learn what it means to live in a hotter world. Israel has been learning that lesson for generations. In a warming world, knowledge may prove to be the most valuable bridge between them.

Published in the Jerusalem Post

The post A hotter Europe needs Israeli science first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

When European Union foreign-policy chief Kaja Kallas wrote on X after meeting Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan that Ankara was “a key partner on security, migration and energy,” praised its role protecting NATO’s eastern flank, and voiced hope for closer relations between Brussels and Ankara, Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Sa’ar answered within hours.

Kallas’s message, he noted, said nothing about Turkey’s deteriorating democratic record: mounting pressure on opposition politicians, journalists and peaceful protesters. “A masterclass in hypocrisy,” he called it.

Whether Sa’ar’s criticism was fair is not the central question. The exchange became the latest episode in a relationship between Jerusalem and Brussels that has grown steadily more strained. But focusing on the question of double standards risks missing something more consequential, something that has drawn almost no attention: Israel is still engaging an outdated image of Europe.

Just days earlier, the European Union published the spring 2026 Standard Eurobarometer. The findings deserved more notice than another spat on social media. A majority of Europeans, 51%, now trust the European Union, three points higher than in the autumn 2025 survey. Some 73% see it as a place of stability in a troubled world, and 81% support a common defense and security policy among member states.

The significance of these findings extends well beyond public opinion. Trust is also a source of political legitimacy. Institutions that enjoy growing public confidence acquire greater authority to act, both internally and internationally. For Israel, this means that the European Union is not merely a forum for familiar diplomatic arguments; it is becoming a more legitimate and more consequential actor.

You won’t find a single word here about:

The brutal human rights violations in Turkey, which were on display again just weeks ago when a Turkish court removed the newly elected leader of the main opposition party from office; peaceful protesters being met with force and mass… t.co/2E3NGui2v3

— Gideon Sa'ar | גדעון סער (@gidonsaar) July 1, 2026

This suggests that Israeli thinking about the union still rests on assumptions many Europeans no longer hold. That view once made perfect sense. For much of the past decade, those assumptions closely reflected the union’s political trajectory.

The sovereign debt crisis exposed deep economic strain. The refugee crisis laid bare sharp political divisions. Brexit seemed to confirm an integration project heading toward irreversible decline. Populist parties gained ground across the continent, while constant disputes among member states reinforced the image of a bloc too fragmented to operate with purpose. Years of this encouraged Israeli policymakers to view the European Union primarily as a divided economic club, rather than as an increasingly consequential geopolitical actor.

That is not the entity taking shape now.

Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine reshaped the course of European integration. Instead of fragmenting, the European Union coordinated sweeping sanctions against Russia; financed military assistance to Ukraine; expanded defense investment; diversified energy supplies; and invested heavily in industrial resilience and advanced technologies. Doubts about future American leadership have only accelerated this process.

The Eurobarometer survey shows that this transformation extends well beyond Brussels. E.U. citizens increasingly support it. They recognize that security, migration, technological competition, climate change and geopolitical instability require collective European action.

That reality should matter greatly in Jerusalem.

Israeli foreign policy continues to devote much of its attention to bilateral relations with European capitals. Those relationships remain indispensable. Germany, Italy, Greece, Czechia, Cyprus, Bulgaria, Romania, Hungary and other member states will always remain essential partners.

But today’s European Union can no longer be understood through national capitals alone. Many of the decisions shaping Israel’s strategic environment are increasingly negotiated and adopted in Brussels. Trade policy, Horizon Europe research funding, AI, digital regulation, sanctions, environmental standards, industrial strategy and expanding areas of foreign policy now emerge from common E.U. institutions.

This is one of the most important transformations in European politics over the past two decades. Israeli diplomacy has not fully caught up.

Israel continues to approach the union primarily through bilateral channels, even as Brussels acquires greater influence over issues that directly affect Israeli economic, scientific, technological and diplomatic interests. The result is a widening gap between the Europe that Israel believes it is engaging and the Europe that increasingly shapes decisions affecting Israel’s interests.

The recent suspension of Israeli contacts with Kaja Kallas illustrates this broader challenge. Whatever its immediate diplomatic logic, reducing engagement with Brussels does not diminish the union’s influence. It merely limits Israel’s opportunities to influence decisions before they are taken.

This has become particularly evident since October 2023. Disagreements over Gaza, humanitarian assistance, violent settlers, international law and the prospects for peace have strained relations between Israel and several European institutions. At the same time, antisemitism has surged across Europe, leaving Jewish communities increasingly vulnerable to violence and hostility generated by events unfolding thousands of kilometers away.

These developments have understandably generated deep frustration in Israel. Frustration, however, is not a strategy.

Many Israelis now dismiss Brussels as politically irrelevant. The Eurobarometer survey suggests precisely the opposite. Institutions that enjoy rising public confidence tend to gain political authority rather than lose it. Governments become more willing to act through them, and international partners have even greater reason to engage them seriously. As the European Union assumes a larger role in security, defense, technology and economic policy, Israel has a greater interest in engaging Brussels rather than bypassing it.

None of this requires accepting every European criticism. Democracies disagree, particularly during war. Israel has every right to challenge positions it considers unfair, inconsistent or detached from regional realities; however, disagreement is not a substitute for understanding.

A more effective Israeli approach would not abandon bilateral diplomacy. It would complement it with a more serious Brussels strategy. That means sustained engagement with the European External Action Service, the European Commission, the High Representative’s office and the European Parliament; treating E.U. regulatory, research and sanctions debates as strategic files; and entering conversations early to shape outcomes rather than merely react to them.

The case for doing so is practical, not sentimental. The European Union remains Israel’s largest trading partner, accounting for nearly a third of Israel’s total goods trade. Its research programs provide Israeli universities, scientists and industry with unparalleled opportunities for cooperation. Israeli innovation strengthens Europe in cybersecurity, health care, agriculture, water technology, climate adaptation and AI. These shared interests have become more important, not less.

Too much of the Israeli debate still reflects the union of the Brexit era rather than the union that exists today. Europe has become more integrated in strategically important fields, more confident in its institutions and more willing to act collectively. It’s becoming more cohesive and more confident. These changes are already reshaping the continent.

Successful foreign policy begins with an accurate understanding of political realities. The costliest strategic mistakes rarely result from underestimating adversaries. More often, they stem from misreading partners.

The latest exchange between Gideon Sa’ar and Kaja Kallas will soon fade from the headlines. The larger strategic challenge will remain.

Published in JNS

The post Israel is engaging yesterday’s Europe first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

Is Israel headed toward a January 6 moment? After this week, it is impossible to rule out the possibility.

On Sunday, the government openly declared that it would not respect a ruling by the High Court of Justice. The decision in question – allowing the Council of the Second Authority, the commercial broadcasting regulatory body, to resume operations – might seem inconsequential. But that was beside the point. Here was the government of Israel, the country’s executive branch, openly signaling that it no longer considered itself bound by a ruling of the nation’s highest court.

Then came Wednesday, when Justice Minister Yariv Levin called for defying another High Court ruling, this one ordering the Knesset to hold a new vote for State Comptroller after the original vote a few weeks ago was tainted by lawmakers who violated the principle of a secret ballot and filmed themselves voting. Again, it might seem inconsequential. It was, after all, just one minister speaking. But this is far from trivial. Ever since taking office in January 2023, this coalition has done everything it possibly could to undermine the legitimacy of the Supreme Court and the attorney-general.

While it ultimately failed to carry out the sweeping judicial overhaul that Levin unveiled just days after the coalition took office almost four years ago, it has succeeded in something else: eroding public trust in Israel’s judicial system and in the rule of law itself. For nearly four years, Israelis have been told repeatedly that the Supreme Court is responsible for the country’s problems, that the attorney-general prevents the government from governing, and that a so-called “deep state” stands in the way of Israel defeating its enemies.

Many people heard those arguments and found them persuasive. To some extent, they had legitimacy. Over the years, for example, I have repeatedly written in these pages about the lack of transparency in Israel’s judicial appointments process.

I also saw firsthand how legal advisers in ministries sometimes overextend their authority and insert themselves into policymaking, at times attempting to dictate the direction of a minister’s agenda. But there is a fundamental difference between criticizing a system and seeking to improve it, and trying to dismantle that system altogether.

Over time, the attacks on the courts and the attorney-general became less about genuine reform and more about avoiding difficult policy decisions. There was a problem with drafting haredim (ultra-Orthodox) into the IDF? Blame the courts. Illegal outposts were being demolished? Blame the attorney-general. Whatever the issue, there was always an institutional scapegoat.

It became a politics of deflection rather than one of accountability. Viewed in light of what happened this past week – with ministers, and ultimately the cabinet itself, openly declaring that they will refuse to adhere to Supreme Court rulings – it becomes clear that this campaign was never simply about judicial reform. Each attack, each accusation, and each attempt to delegitimize the judiciary served as another building block toward the moment Israel finds itself in today.

Not random choices

Democracies do not unravel overnight. Governments do not simply wake up after an election and refuse to accept the results. The public first has to be conditioned to believe that the institutions responsible for safeguarding democracy – the courts, the attorney-general, the election commission – are themselves illegitimate. That is a process, and it happens gradually through a constant process of delegitimization.

That helps explain what we have witnessed over the past several years. The Supreme Court has been portrayed as an enemy of the people. The attorney-general has been accused of preventing elected officials from governing.

Knesset Speaker Amir Ohana refuses to recognize Justice Yitzhak Amit as president of the Supreme Court or invite him to state-level events at the Knesset while giving him the ceremonial status traditionally afforded to the role. Levin has refused to convene the Judicial Selection Committee because doing so would acknowledge the legitimacy of the court as it currently exists.

And now, with elections just months away, ministers and the cabinet are openly declaring that Supreme Court rulings need not be obeyed.

Notice also which rulings they chose to challenge.

Neither involved an emotionally charged national issue that dominates headlines or divides the country.

One concerned an obscure broadcasting regulator that most Israelis have never heard of, and the other involved the Knesset’s vote for State Comptroller – a decision the coalition can easily portray to its supporters as judicial interference in parliamentary affairs, even though the vote itself was compromised after Likud lawmakers were instructed to photograph their ballots, violating the principle of a secret vote.

These were not random choices. They were chosen because they are relatively neutral and most people will look at the calls to defy and simply shrug and move on, thinking the issues are small and inconsequential. That might be true, but that is only temporary. What is happening is the normalization of the idea that Supreme Court rulings are optional and not binding.

It is, in other words, another building block and step toward eroding a central pillar of Israeli democracy.

What happens next is impossible to know.

Perhaps nothing. Perhaps this is simply another way for Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to preserve maximum political flexibility, allowing him to decide later whether to escalate or pull back. What happens, though, doesn’t have to be something big and all at once. There can be efforts to discourage voter turnout among Arabs, attempts to undermine confidence in the election committee overseeing the voting, or a refusal to recognize legitimate results after votes are counted.

None of those outcomes is inevitable. Yet after this week’s unprecedented challenge to the authority of the Supreme Court, they can no longer be dismissed out of hand. Years later, January 6 is still remembered as a scar on American democracy. Without getting into the politics of it, it demonstrated that even the world’s most powerful democracy is not immune from attempts to overturn constitutional norms when someone wants to cling to or seize power.

Israelis have always believed that our democracy is resilient enough to withstand any political crisis. But resilience is not automatic. It depends on people respecting the institutions that constrain power.

After this week, that can no longer be taken for granted.

Published in the Jerusalem Post

The post Israel might be headed towards its own January 6 moment first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.