“We are getting dangerously close to a violent, multifront confrontation. According to reports from the security establishment, the number of warnings in Judea and Samaria is unprecedented.

“The ones who will pay the price are our children, who will once again have to enter the Jenin refugee camp, once again go into Gaza, and perhaps once again into Lebanon. The ones who will pay the price are our parents, who will once again have to sit in their safe rooms.” These words sound like something that could have been said yesterday. They were, however, spoken by Yair Lapid, the head of the opposition, three years ago this month, on September 20, 2023 – just a couple of weeks before the Hamas invasion on October 7.

Lapid later explained that he decided to go before the cameras with such a stark, dire warning after receiving one of the regular monthly security briefings given to the opposition leader by the prime minister and his military secretary. During that meeting, Lapid said, he was shown some of the most sensitive and classified intelligence collected by Israel’s security establishment. The message, as he understood it, was clear: Israel’s enemies were watching the deep divisions tearing through Israeli society over the government’s judicial overhaul. They saw weakness and vulnerability. And they believed there might be an opportunity to strike.

That was why, on the eve of Yom Kippur in 2023, Lapid issued his warning. He could hardly have been more prophetic. Two-and-a-half weeks later, Hamas invaded Israel. Our children were sent to fight in Gaza, Jenin, and eventually Lebanon. Our parents – and the rest of us – were sent running to bomb shelters and safe rooms.

October 7 to play a role in next election

From the moment elections were called for the end of October, it was obvious that October 7 would play a central role in every political party’s campaign. What was less obvious was the extent to which the disaster would become the subject of manipulation, distortion, and outright fabrication, particularly by members of the governing coalition determined to deflect criticism and wash their hands of responsibility for the greatest catastrophe to befall the Jewish people since the Holocaust, a catastrophe that happened on their watch.

That is how we need to look at the interview that Sara Netanyahu gave this week to Channel 14 in which she attempted to tarnish the reputation of Yair Golan, the leader of the Democrats Party, who famously put on his uniform on the morning of October 7, drove south, and helped rescue Israelis from the killing fields around the Supernova music festival.

Like so many heroic Israelis who saw their fellow citizens in mortal danger that morning, Golan did not wait for orders. A former deputy IDF chief of staff, he took his sidearm and headed toward the fighting, repeatedly entering an area crawling with terrorists to rescue people and bring them to safety. Yet Sara Netanyahu insinuated that Golan must somehow have had advance knowledge that something was about to happen, because he put on his uniform that morning – while her husband, the prime minister, had not been woken by the heads of the security establishment.

It was a disgusting accusation. It not only suggested some sort of conspiracy against Benjamin Netanyahu, but cast suspicion on a man who risked his own life to save others. To question the integrity, courage, and motives of Israelis who voluntarily entered a combat zone that morning is appalling.

While her comments were rightly condemned across the political spectrum, Sara Netanyahu is not really the story. She is the prime minister’s wife, not an elected official, and her comments should not consume too much of our attention.

The more important story is the coalition itself, which continues to do all it can to evade responsibility.

While Sara was in the headlines, Netanyahu was also pushing his new claim – had he been woken at 4 or 5 a.m. on October 7, he would have made decisions that could have prevented the Hamas invasion. Why wasn’t he woken? Because, he suggested, the security chiefs knew that he would force them to act, and they did not want him to.

There are several problems with this argument. The first is that it is highly unlikely Netanyahu would have done what he now claims.

Had he been woken, he would have heard from IDF chief of staff Herzi Halevi, Shin Bet (Israel Security Agency) director Ronen Bar, and Military Intelligence chief Aharon Haliva. All three would have given him essentially the same assessment they themselves mistakenly believed as they analyzed the little intelligence that was coming in that night: Hamas was probably not preparing for a major attack, and if something was going to happen, it would be limited in scope.

With every senior security official presenting essentially the same assessment, does anyone seriously believe Netanyahu would have ordered Israel to launch a war against Hamas at 4 or 5 in the morning? Far more likely, he would have instructed them to remain vigilant, continue monitoring the situation, and reconvene a few hours later.

That, essentially, was the catastrophic mistake that Amir Bohbot and I describe in our book While Israel Slept. The warning signs were there, but they were interpreted through an intelligence framework that assumed Hamas did not want a major war.

But Netanyahu’s political objective now is to portray October 7 as exclusively their failure, a tactical intelligence breakdown that had nothing to do with him, his policies, or the strategy he pursued toward Hamas for years. That strategy included containing Hamas, allowing Qatari money to flow into Gaza, and repeatedly deciding against using the IDF to remove Hamas from power.

Keeping the national debate focused narrowly on the intelligence and operational failures of the night of October 6 and the early hours of October 7 serves Netanyahu politically. It keeps attention away from the much larger question of strategy: how Israel reached a point where Hamas was able to build an army on the other side of the border, prepare an invasion for years, and convince Israeli leaders that it had no intention of using it.

The second problem with Netanyahu’s argument is even more fundamental.

It is a wrong illustration of leadership. Leadership is supposed to mean understanding that subordinates will sometimes make mistakes – even catastrophic ones – and that ultimate responsibility rests with the person at the top.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened politically had Netanyahu chosen a different path after October 7. What if he had gone to the funerals of those murdered and visited their families during shiva? What if he had stood before the families and heard their yells and criticism, had appeared before the Israeli public and said something simple: I failed. What if he had publicly grieved for the 1,200 people massacred on his watch and accepted even a measure of responsibility for what happened? Perhaps it would even have helped him politically. Perhaps showing compassion, humility, and accountability would have won back some of the Israelis who turned away from him after October 7.

It is an interesting thought experiment, but that is all it is. Because Netanyahu’s political doctrine has long been clear: never accept responsibility, never admit failure, and, above all, never say sorry.

The tragedy is that nearly three years after October 7, Israel is not only still fighting over who was responsible for the failures of that day. It is heading into an election in which those failures are being rewritten in real time.

And a country that cannot honestly confront how it reached October 7 will have a much harder time ensuring that another one can never happen.

Published in the Jerusalem Post

The post Israel cannot prevent another October 7 if Netanyahu keeps rewriting the first one first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

A quiet story out of Finland last week deserves more attention than it received. The country’s public broadcaster Yle reported that in 2024, in the middle of the Gaza war, the Finnish government proposed extending its defense-industrial cooperation agreement with Israel through 2034. Previous extensions ran five years, while this one would run 10. The Finnish Defense Ministry did not announce the agreement publicly. However, 23 joint defense projects are now underway between Finland and Israel.

Israel is now Finland’s second-largest foreign defense supplier. Over the past decade, Helsinki has committed more than 800 million euros to Israeli weapons systems: 316 million euros for the David’s Sling air-defense system, with a 213 million euro option attached; 213 million euros for Spike anti-tank missiles; and 162 million euros for Gabriel anti-ship missiles. Finland’s defense minister called David’s Sling “critically important” to national air defense.

Finnish public opinion has not undergone a corresponding turn toward Israel. A 2025 poll found 48% of Finns favor recognizing a Palestinian state against 24% opposed to it. Helsinki has publicly condemned Israeli settlement expansion. Yet at the same time, it is locking in a defense partnership with Jerusalem that will run into the 2030s.

The contradiction is not an anomaly. It is the story.

Sentiment doesn’t explain it, but geography does. Finland shares a 1,340-kilometer border with Russia, joined NATO in 2023 after decades of non-alignment and maintains a potential wartime force of roughly 280,000 troops. War, for Finnish planners, is something to prepare for, not a subject for the history department.

In contrast, look at Iceland: It is small, wealthy, and secular, like Finland. But it has no army, no land border with Russia and a population that is, if anything, more pro-Palestinian than most of Europe. Some 72.5% sympathized more with the Palestinians in a 2024 survey against 9.5% with Israel, and a majority favored cutting diplomatic relations with Israel altogether.

Reykjavik doesn’t need Spike missiles or David’s Sling, however. Helsinki does. Put the two countries side by side and public opinion alone tells you little about defense policy. Strategic exposure tells you considerably more.

This isn’t a Finland story so much as a story with Finland as the clearest example. Poland, the Czech Republic and the Baltic states share Finland’s problem—Russia next door—and increasingly share its instincts. Czech officials have gone so far as to compare the threat Russia poses to Central Europe with the threat Iran poses to Israel. It’s a comparison that Israeli officials are only too happy to hear repeated.

Greece and Cyprus, facing pressure in the increasingly contested Eastern Mediterranean, particularly in their relations with Turkey, have arrived at a similar conclusion. Athens calls Israel an outright strategic partner. On Aug. 31, Greece signed a 3.035 billion euro agreement with Israel to develop the “Achilles Shield,” an integrated air, missile and drone defense system.

Cyprus, too, has deepened both bilateral defense cooperation with Israel and trilateral cooperation with Athens and Jerusalem.

Norway complicates the pattern, and the exception is instructive. It borders Russia and takes the Russian threat seriously. It also recognized Palestinian statehood in 2024 and has stayed firmly behind Palestinian sovereignty ever since.

What distinguishes Norway is not exposure but room for maneuver. It has immense energy wealth, a robust defense industry of its own and access to alternative suppliers. It is less dependent on what Israel is selling. Vulnerability alone does not produce strategic closeness to Israel, but vulnerability combined with dependence can.

Western Europe runs on a different domestic political logic. Gaza has become a highly salient public and electoral issue. Pro-Palestinian activism is widespread, and in countries such as France, Britain, Belgium and Germany, sizable Muslim communities are a major part of the political environment.

A 2025 YouGov poll across six major Western European countries found only 13% to 21% holding a favorable view of Israel, against 63% to 70% unfavorable. Those numbers reflect domestic politics as well as views of the ongoing war itself.

But domestic politics isn’t the only force in play, and it may not be the decisive one for long. For much of the postwar era, Western Europeans didn’t have to think seriously about territorial defense. American guarantees and steady prosperity made that unnecessary. Russia’s war in Ukraine ended the holiday. Defense budgets are climbing across the continent, and with them, a set of questions Europe has not asked in a generation: Who defends this border, with what and how fast?

Sooner or later, that reckoning will collide with another habit of Western European thinking: viewing Israel mainly through the lens of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

Countries already confronting immediate security threats are more likely to see another side of Israel as a small state that has built military technology, doctrine and institutions around persistent vulnerability. They may criticize Israeli policy, condemn its conduct in Gaza and support Palestinian statehood, yet still regard Israel as an unusually valuable security partner.

Finland is simply where that contradiction has become especially visible in writing, with a signature attached.

jns

The post Finland and the Israel paradox first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

In this Deep Dive episode, host Jacob Laznik sits down with JPPI Senior Fellow Or Horvitz, former head of the IDF’s Hezbollah and Lebanon desk, to argue that Washington has quietly abandoned deal-making for a “maximum pressure 2.0” campaign aimed at the collapse of the Iranian regime, and that almost no one in mainstream coverage is naming it.

Horvitz maps the two camps inside the Trump administration (Secretary Rubio betting pressure topples the regime, VP Vance betting it forces compromise), why he thinks negotiating with today’s hawkish leadership is pointless, and how Iran’s economic freefall sets a starting point far worse than the first sanctions era.

“I genuinely now believe that there is no other way but to topple this regime,” he says, while warning, “Iran is a bully, and you cannot appease a bully.”

Drawing on the Reagan-era pivot from containment to proactive pressure against the USSR, Horvitz explains why change has to come from inside Iran, what the West missed during the January uprising, his fear of a secret nuclear program in the desert, and the historic window opening in Lebanon as a cash-starved Iran can no longer fund Hezbollah.

He closes on Syria’s new leadership, the growing-but-lesser challenge of Turkey, and a plea to strip Israeli and American foreign policy of election-season politics. Sober analysis with, in his words, cautious optimism.

The post Podcast: Secret collapse first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

American presidential politics has long relied on the concept of the “big tent”—a broad coalition uniting diverse and sometimes ideologically contradictory voting blocs under a single party umbrella. For decades, the Democratic Party successfully maintained this structure. However, a compelling new academic study published in the journal Israel Affairs examines one of the deepest fractures within this tent: the collapse of the “green-red alliance” between traditionalist Muslim communities and progressive actors.

The research illuminates this dynamic through the work of Dr. Kobby Barda, a Senior Researcher at the Jewish People Policy Institute (JPPI) and a lecturer at the Holon Institute of Technology (HIT). Barda focuses on Metro Detroit, Michigan, where municipalities like Hamtramck and Dearborn have become fascinating political laboratories. In Hamtramck, which elected an entirely Muslim city council, the local government passed a resolution in 2023 restricting Pride and group flags on public property to maintain official “neutrality”. Concurrently, Dearborn witnessed intense grassroots mobilizations and school board controversies over the inclusion of LGBTQ-themed materials in public school curricula.

Barda’s analysis demonstrates that these local clashes expose the inherent limits of intersectional politics. At the elite federal level, progressive actors and Muslim political figures managed to paper over deep ideological differences by relying on shared platforms, with anti-Zionism serving as a geopolitical “glue” that united them against a common external enemy. Yet, when those abstract ideas translated into immediate, localized moral conflicts over child protection, public symbolism, and family structures, the alliance buckled under the strain.

To rigorously decode voter behavior, the study integrates sociological frameworks, specifically applying Albert O. Hirschman’s “Exit, Voice, and Loyalty” model. Barda shows how Muslim voters signaled a structural de-alignment from the Democratic consensus through distinct behavioral pathways: “exit” via switching to Republican candidates, and “voice” via protest voting for third-party alternatives.

The study’s empirical data highlights the staggering magnitude of this shift. In Hamtramck, support for the Democratic presidential nominee plummeted from 85.4% in 2020 to 46.2% in 2024, while Donald Trump surged to 42.7% and the Green Party’s Jill Stein captured 9.0%. Similarly, in Dearborn, the Democratic vote share dropped from 68.7% to 36.3%, with Trump leading at 42.5% and Stein securing a remarkable 18.4%. These figures, derived from a strict triangulation of official precinct-level returns and targeted voter surveys (such as CAIR and ISPU), underscore the severe electoral cost of the coalition’s collapse.

The broader implication of this study is striking: the assumption that shared minority status and progressive identity politics can indefinitely override deep-seated religious and moral convictions has been empirically challenged. When traditionalist Muslim voters felt their domestic and familial norms were threatened by progressive educational and cultural mandates, they chose to prioritize moral boundary-making over historical partisan loyalty. By dissecting these local institutional battlegrounds through a sophisticated sociological lens, Dr. Barda’s research offers a sharp, objective perspective on the shifting architecture of American coalition politics and the unprecedented challenges facing the traditional progressive “big tent”.

For the full article in the journal Israel Affairs, click here.

The post Fraying the Big Tent: The Quiet Fracture of the Progressive-Muslim Alliance in America first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

Israel’s national security doctrine, formulated by David Ben-Gurion in the 1950s, rests on three pillars: deterrence, early warning, and decisive victory.

Deterrence is meant to persuade the enemy that it cannot defeat Israel and therefore, rationally, should refrain from attacking. If deterrence fails, intelligence must provide sufficient warning to mobilize the reserves, allowing Israel to maintain a relatively small standing army in peacetime. And decisive victory means seeking unequivocal wins as quickly as possible while shifting the fighting onto enemy territory. Victory restores deterrence, postpones the next war, and gives Israel time to grow stronger between conflicts.

Is this doctrine still valid after October 7?

Some say no. Hamas was not deterred, intelligence failed to provide warning, and Israel did not achieve a swift, decisive victory. This, they argue, was no accident but the result of a changed reality: many of our enemies are now terrorist organizations rather than state actors; their motivations are ideological and religious and do not necessarily conform to conventional calculations of deterrence; the arena itself has changed – our enemies are no longer only those massed along our borders. The doctrine, therefore, must be rethought.

Others argue that the classical doctrine remains sound, but that Israel, lulled by overconfidence, failed to follow it. We did not create deterrence – we simply assumed it existed, and we were wrong. We dismissed warning signs that were, in fact, there. And for years, we abandoned the pursuit of decisive victory in favor of “managing the conflict” and “quiet in return for quiet.” On this view, Israel must return to Ben-Gurion’s principles and apply them with resolve. A third approach would preserve the classical doctrine while adding two further elements: defense – the ability to withstand a surprise attack if deterrence and advance warning fail – and preemption – taking the initiative to eliminate emerging threats before they fully ripen.

But this debate is taking place on too narrow a field. National security doctrine must address not only how we confront enemies waging physical war against us, but also those waging a battle to shape global consciousness – the perceptions and narratives through which Israel is understood. National security is measured not only by our ability to defend our borders, but also by Israel’s standing in the international arena.

Until recently, Israel’s relations with the United States and several leading European countries constituted a formidable diplomatic Iron Dome, protecting us in critical arenas – security, economics, diplomacy, law, and culture. In recent years, and especially since October 7, we have been losing ground in the battle over global consciousness. Negative views of Israel are becoming increasingly entrenched. Challenges to the legitimacy of the Jewish nation-state are finding traction. The demonization of Israel is gaining ground both in the European Union, Israel’s largest trading partner, and in the United States, our most important security and diplomatic ally.

The evidence is mounting not only in public opinion polls but also in concrete actions. Our adversaries could achieve their own “total victory” in this struggle if a future American president decided to impose an arms embargo on Israel. Is that really inconceivable? The consequences could be devastating. Not everything is within our control. Deep currents of antisemitism, polarizing identity politics, social media platforms that traffic in hatred, social inequality, and other forces are poisoning the international arena. But much does depend on us – both through what we fail to do and through what we actually do.

Our failure to act has been profound. Israel has largely been absent from this battlefield – if by presence we mean the formulation and implementation of a coherent strategy. For too many years, our national investment in this arena was negligible – less than the cost of a single Israeli Air Force squadron. And some of our own actions hand our enemies ammunition. We alienate the world – including our friends – when we tolerate Jewish terrorism, use disproportionate force, engage in racist rhetoric, and erode confidence in our own democratic institutions.

The bottom line is clear: if we lose the battle over global consciousness, Israel’s national security will be gravely weakened. Israel will not be able to flourish as it once did if it comes to be regarded as a “Sparta” – an embattled fortress-state living by the sword behind high walls.

We need to change course.

First, Israel must establish an authoritative institutional framework for this mission. Alongside the three organizations responsible for our physical security – the IDF at our borders, the Shin Bet (Israel Security Agency) at home, and the Mossad abroad – we need a fourth national body of comparable authority and stature charged with conducting the battle over global consciousness.

Second, Israeli policy across the board, including the use of military force, must be shaped by a national security doctrine that recognizes this battle as critical to securing our future.

Published in the Jerusalem Post

The post Israel’s battle for global consciousness: Why the Sparta doctrine harms national security first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

Israel has a unique opportunity in Syria. The December 2024 collapse of Bashar al-Assad’s regime sharply changed the regional orientation. Syria was suddenly no longer the lifeline of the Shiite axis on the northern front, through which Iranian weapons and money passed to Hezbollah. Instead, Damascus belongs to Ahmed al-Sharaa, a Sunni leader and former commander of al Qaeda’s Syrian affiliate, who had fought Hezbollah for years.

So far, Israel has treated Mr. al-Sharaa with skepticism. It responded to the Assad regime’s fall militarily, destroying Syrian capabilities and seizing a forward line in the Syrian Golan. Mr. al-Sharaa’s past raises legitimate questions about whether his political transformation from jihadist to suit-wearing rebuilder of Syria is genuine or tactical. Even if he is truly committed to restoring Syria and stabilizing relations with Israel, the country will remain fragile. Southern Syria is vulnerable to terrorist activity; such groups have operated near the Israeli border before. The regime’s relationship with Turkey is also troubling, while the unresolved dispute over the Golan Heights limits prospects for comprehensive peace.

Yet Israel appears to be missing a strategic window. Mr. al-Sharaa is no friend of Israel, but he is a clear enemy of Hezbollah. And while the previous Syrian government relied on Iran and Russia, Mr. al-Sharaa’s depends on Western and Gulf support, foreign investment and international acceptance. Damascus needs quiet on the Israeli front.

This overlap of interests seems to already be yielding results. According to Axios, the U.S. in July brokered an understanding involving Syria, Israel and the International Atomic Energy Agency to secure and remove nuclear material from a clandestine site linked to the Assad regime’s nuclear program. The episode demonstrated that where interests converge, Israel and the new Syrian government can address concrete security threats through U.S.-mediated, verifiable arrangements rather than confrontation.

Israel should exploit this overlap of interests in two areas: weakening the Shiite axis and preventing Sunni terrorist groups from establishing themselves in Syria. For the first time in years, there’s a government in Damascus that can sharply reduce the flow of weapons and money to Hezbollah. Israel should promote a U.S.-led security mechanism along the Syria-Lebanon border to impede Hezbollah’s rearmament—an essential part of any effort to weaken the group. Western forces including Israel could train and support designated Syrian and Lebanese units to target smuggling networks with the help of advanced monitoring systems. The U.S. would ensure that Syria and Lebanon make securing the border and disrupting smuggling a priority.

The two countries should also prevent Syria from serving global jihadist groups or Hamas. Israel can support reconstruction assistance conditioned on excluding Iranian forces, preventing terrorist infrastructure and ensuring that Syrian territory isn’t again used to threaten Israel.

Israel should stay cautious. Any Israeli redeployment from positions it seized after Mr. Assad’s fall should be gradual and tied to verifiable security conditions. Israel can also coordinate humanitarian aid through monitored international channels for border communities, helping stabilize one of Syria’s poorest areas and reduce local hostility to Israel.

A comprehensive peace treaty isn’t currently realistic. But Israel’s strategy need not run only through the barrel of a gun. In Mr. al-Sharaa’s Syria, an opportunity is emerging for limited cooperation against the Shiite axis, which could lay the groundwork for broader arrangements, foremost a security agreement in southern Syria. Israel should pursue the opportunity cautiously, following Reagan’s approach to Gorbachev: Trust but verify.

Published in the Wall Street Journal

The post The New Syria: The Enemy of Israel’s Enemy first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

Israelis have rarely been more critical of Europe. Since the Hamas-led terrorist attacks on October 7, 2023, relations between Israel and several European Union member states have entered one of their most difficult periods in recent memory.

Disagreements over Gaza, humanitarian access, settlements, settler violence, international law, and recognition of a Palestinian state have deepened political tensions.

At the same time, Jewish communities across Europe have faced a severe resurgence of antisemitic violence, heightening Israeli anxieties about the continent and exposing a profound challenge to the EU’s democratic values.

Yet Israelis continue to be drawn to Europe. Demand for citizenship in EU member states remains substantial and has increased in several countries. European universities continue to attract Israeli students. Horizon Europe – the EU’s funding program for research and innovation – remains highly valued by Israeli scientists.

The EU remains Israel’s largest trading partner, and millions of Israelis travel across the continent each year because it still represents opportunity, stability, and openness.

The annual publication of the Henley Passport Index helps illuminate this apparent contradiction. Governments celebrate incremental gains in the rankings, travelers compare visa-free access, and headlines announce which passport has become the world’s most powerful.

The index measures the privileges attached to citizenship, not the desire to acquire it. But read alongside naturalization patterns, it points toward an overlooked measure of soft power: the attraction political communities exert on outsiders.

Viewed through this lens, the EU’s greatest source of international influence lies largely outside the remit of its foreign ministries. It is embedded in institutions Europeans have spent decades building. If foreign policy is ultimately about shaping the preferences of others, then Europe’s strongest instrument is not diplomacy alone but the enduring attraction of the European project itself. The Israeli case illustrates this with unusual clarity.

The attraction extends beyond economics and education. Israeli footballers aspire to play in Europe’s leading leagues, Israeli clubs measure success by qualification for European competitions, and many Israelis follow European football closely. Sport, like science, higher education, and culture, projects influence without intending to do so. It succeeds because people associate excellence, opportunity, and prestige with European institutions.

Europe’s diplomatic standing among many Israelis may have weakened. Its institutional attraction has not. The two have moved in opposite directions.

This divergence raises a broader question about how international influence should be measured. International relations traditionally emphasizes military power, economic leverage, alliances, and diplomacy. Joseph Nye, the American political scientist, challenged this understanding by arguing that attraction constitutes an independent source of soft power. Yet attraction is notoriously difficult to observe. Opinion polls fluctuate, and official rhetoric often reflects immediate politics as much as deeper preferences.

Citizenship tells a different story. Applying for citizenship requires time, money, and often years of legal effort. Not every application expresses admiration for the country issuing the passport. Some are plainly instrumental – an insurance policy, a route to study or employment, or a means of preserving mobility. But even instrumental demand rests on confidence that the laws and institutions behind that citizenship will continue to protect the rights it confers.

Applications, therefore, reveal something opinion polls cannot: they demonstrate that people are willing to invest years of effort to become members of a political community. Few indicators provide a clearer behavioral measure of institutional attraction.

Debates about the EU’s global role often overlook the strategic significance of this process. Discussion usually centers on defense spending, strategic autonomy, sanctions, and foreign policy coordination.

These questions matter, but they can obscure the EU’s most durable comparative advantage. Its universities educate future political, scientific, and business leaders. Its courts provide legal certainty. Its research institutions sustain international collaboration. Its single market, cultural industries, sporting competitions, and freedom of movement create an ecosystem of attraction that no foreign ministry could design, and no public diplomacy campaign could reproduce.

For Israelis, this attraction persists despite genuine political disagreement. An Israeli may strongly oppose the policies of a particular EU member state while continuing to admire European universities, scientific institutions, legal systems, sporting culture, and civic freedoms. Governments and diplomatic positions change. Institutional legitimacy accumulates over generations and erodes far more slowly.

For many Israelis, the attraction also carries a historical dimension. Recovering citizenship stripped from parents or grandparents through persecution, expulsion, or genocide may represent more than administrative convenience. It can also reflect confidence in Europe’s effort to confront its past through democratic institutions and the rule of law – and in the ability of political communities to rebuild legitimacy across generations.

The implications extend beyond Europe. In an era defined by hard power and economic coercion, institutional attraction remains a strategic resource. Governments rise and fall, and diplomatic crises pass. Institutions that attract students, researchers, investors, entrepreneurs, athletes, artists, and future citizens generate influence that outlasts political cycles.

The Israeli case, therefore, offers a broader lesson about statecraft. Military strength deters. Economic power shapes incentives. Diplomacy manages crises. Attraction creates a form of voluntary association that coercion cannot. That makes institutional legitimacy not merely a feature of good governance but a strategic asset.

Despite political tensions, antisemitism, and repeated predictions of European decline, many Israelis continue to seek citizenship in EU member states and participate in Europe’s academic, scientific, economic, cultural, and sporting life. That paradox suggests that Europe’s greatest foreign policy achievement lies not in what it says to the world but in the political community it has built.

In an age of geopolitical competition, few forms of international influence are more enduring than a society that others still choose to join.

Published in the Jerusalem Post

The post Israelis are angry at Europe, yet still drawn to it first appeared on The Jewish People Policy Institute.

Israel has spent much of the past three years demonstrating extraordinary military capability, degrading much of Hamas’ infrastructure, severely weakening Hezbollah, and projecting power deep into Iran.

Yet those battlefield gains have not translated into greater international influence. As Israel’s military reach expanded, its diplomatic room for maneuver narrowed. Academic and cultural boycotts spread. Scientific partnerships became more fragile. Public debate across Europe and North America grew more polarized. Israel demonstrated military superiority while steadily losing ground in the struggle for international legitimacy.

This erosion is no longer merely a matter of perception. Recent polling points to declining support for Israel in countries where public opinion had already turned negative, including the United States and Germany. For the first time in decades, Americans express no greater sympathy for Israelis than for Palestinians. The Anholt–Ipsos Nation Brands Index has placed Israel at or near the bottom of the countries it assesses for two consecutive years. At the same time, the International Criminal Court’s arrest warrants for Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former Defense Minister Yoav Gallant have reinforced the country’s growing diplomatic isolation.

This paradox captures one of the defining realities of the 21st century: military strength remains indispensable, but it is no longer sufficient.

For most of modern history, states measured power by armies, territory, industrial production and economic output. Those assets remain essential in an increasingly unstable world, as Russia’s war in Ukraine and Iran’s regional ambitions continue to demonstrate.

But strategic competition now extends well beyond the battlefield.

The concept of soft power has shaped international relations for more than 30 years. Yet in Israel, it is still too often reduced to public diplomacy – a question of messaging rather than national strategy. In reality, countries compete not only for territory but also for talent, investment, trust and enduring partnerships.

Universities, hospitals, cultural and sporting institutions, technology companies and philanthropic foundations increasingly shape a country’s international influence. Governments cannot simply command that influence. It grows when talented people choose to study, collaborate, invest and create within a country’s institutions.

Here, Israel possesses one of its greatest strategic assets. The country is widely known as the “Startup Nation,” but innovation is only part of a much larger story. Institutions such as the Technion and the Weizmann Institute rank among the world’s leading research centers. Hospitals such as Sheba and Ichilov are internationally recognized for medical innovation and humanitarian expertise. Israeli scientists, entrepreneurs, artists, filmmakers and athletes reach audiences far beyond the country’s borders.

Together, these institutions form an ecosystem that gives Israel a global reach far greater than its size would suggest. It is precisely this ecosystem that today’s boycotts, diplomatic isolation, and declining public support threaten.

Yet the picture is not entirely bleak. Columbia University recently announced the opening of its Tel Aviv Global Center to deepen collaboration in science, technology, entrepreneurship, and medicine, despite having become a symbol of anti-Israel campus protests. Nor is Columbia alone. MIT has expanded its Kalaniyot program, more than doubling the number of Israeli scholars on campus. Together, these developments suggest that even amid political polarization, Israeli institutions remain highly valued research partners.

Israel also possesses a less recognized advantage: its institutions are connected to one of history’s oldest and most globally dispersed communities. For centuries, Jewish communities built schools, universities, hospitals, charitable organizations, and philanthropic networks across the world. After the establishment of the State of Israel, many of these institutions became intertwined with Israeli ones, creating a far-reaching network of scientific, educational, cultural, medical and civic cooperation.

Few countries benefit from a worldwide network that predates the state and continues to reinforce it. Such networks rarely collapse overnight. They erode gradually as partnerships weaken, exchanges diminish and trust declines.

Unlike countries whose soft power rests primarily on culture, technology or higher education, Israel’s influence emerges from the interaction between a sovereign state and Jewish communities worldwide. This is not merely soft power. It is institutional and network power – the capacity to build relationships and generate forms of cooperation that others value and need.

This is why Israel must rethink its understanding of power.

For years, discussions about Israel’s international position have focused on public diplomacy. Every setback abroad prompts renewed calls for better messaging. Communication matters. But communication cannot substitute for strategy.

Countries admired for scientific excellence first build outstanding universities. Countries respected for innovation first cultivate entrepreneurs and researchers. Countries trusted during humanitarian crises first establish world-class hospitals.

Reputation follows performance. Institutions earn credibility long before governments communicate it.

That lesson has become especially important since Oct. 7, 2023. Israel’s understandable focus on immediate security has reinforced its traditional emphasis on military strength, and rightly so. But the past three years have also shown that military success alone cannot secure the country’s long-term international position. In some cases, military action may deepen the diplomatic isolation it is intended to prevent.

Scientific cooperation, educational exchange, technological leadership, cultural creativity, humanitarian engagement and strong ties with Jewish communities abroad are not luxuries reserved for peaceful times. They strengthen the economy, reinforce diplomacy, attract talent and create partnerships that become especially valuable during periods of crisis.

They are part of national security.

Israel therefore needs a broader understanding of grand strategy. The country built one of the world’s most sophisticated military establishments because successive governments understood that security required sustained investment, institutional capacity, and long-term planning.

The same strategic mindset must now guide investment in universities, research, culture, humanitarian institutions and the organizations connecting Israel with Jewish communities around the world. That means more than increasing budgets. It means protecting research partnerships from short-term political pressures, expanding scientific and cultural exchange, investing consistently in humanitarian cooperation and creating durable mechanisms through which Israeli and diaspora institutions can plan and act together.

These areas should not be treated as separate policy portfolios. They form a single strategic ecosystem. Strong universities generate discoveries. Discoveries attract investment. Investment fuels innovation and strengthens resilience. Culture broadens international familiarity. Philanthropy sustains education and research. Together, they create influence greater than the sum of their individual parts.

This perspective should also change how Israel views its relationship with world Jewry. Too often, that relationship is framed primarily in terms of political advocacy or philanthropy. In reality, Israel and Jewish communities together constitute a uniquely extensive network of knowledge, education, entrepreneurship, medicine and civic leadership. Preserving and strengthening those ties is not simply a communal responsibility. It is a strategic imperative.

The international system has already been transformed. Strategic competition now encompasses AI, biotechnology, cybersecurity and technological leadership alongside conventional military power. The countries that shape this new era will combine the ability to defend themselves with the ability to attract exceptional talent, investment and enduring partnerships.

Israel already possesses many of these advantages. The challenge is to protect them, strengthen them, and treat them as strategic assets rather than as byproducts of national success.

For 78 years, Israel has treated deterrence as a national imperative. The decades ahead will require it to pursue attraction with comparable determination. Military superiority will remain essential for survival. But lasting influence will depend on whether Israel remains an indispensable partner in science, innovation, education, culture, medicine and humanitarian engagement.

In the 21st century, the strongest countries will not simply be those that defeat their enemies. They will be those that others cannot afford to do without.

Published in the Jewish Journal

The post Israel’s Next Front: The Power of Attraction 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.