American and Israeli Jews have a sharp difference of opinion about President Trump, the Israeli-Palestinian peace process, and what it means to be Jewish. More than just a harmless ideological gap, these differences can drive an intense cultural wedge between the two communities. What should we do about it?
Two years ago, I attended the General Assembly of the Jewish Federations of North America in Tel Aviv. One of the best presenters at the conference polled the audience on the relationship between Israeli and North American Jews. Although 20 percent of the audience described the relationship as “thriving” or “stable,” the remaining 80 percent said it was “wounded” or “in critical condition.”
Statistics from a 2017 Pew Research Center survey illustrated this divide. When asked to describe Israel’s biggest long-term problem, two-thirds of American Jews — but just 38 percent of Israeli Jews — cited security issues. And 39 percent of Israeli Jews — but only one percent of American Jews — mentioned economic difficulties.
The differences between the two communities also applied to their religious observance and social circles. Fifty-six percent of Israelis said they usually light candles on Shabbat, compared to only 23 percent of Americans. Ninety-eight percent of Israeli Jews said that either all or most of their friends are Jewish, compared to only 32 percent of American Jews.
But no topic highlights the split between American and Israeli Jews better than their views of President Donald Trump and former Vice President Joe Biden. According to a survey published by the American Jewish Committee (AJC) last week, 75 percent of American Jews would choose Biden, and 22 percent would choose Trump. According to an i24News poll released earlier this month, 63 percent of Israelis prefer Trump, compared to only 19 percent who preferred Biden. We know that after the election results are in, the majority of Jews in one group will react in one way, while most in the other will have the opposite response.
Faced with the reality of these differences, what do we do next?
First, we need to understand that differences in Jewish opinion is not the problem. While this notion has almost become hackneyed at this point, we need to internalize and embrace this reality as part of our spiritual DNA. Healthy disagreement and civil debate are core values of our tradition. We know the rabbis of the Talmud held competing views. We know that rejected opinions are integral to our religious literature. And we know that while the medieval commentators, the Rishonim, agreed on most of the pillars of Judaism, they engaged in fiery debates about the chronology, historicity, and meaning of the Torah.
we need to understand that differences in Jewish opinion is not the problem.
But it’s more than that. Trying to get American and Israeli Jews to see every issue in the same way not only runs counter to our tradition — it is Sisyphean. In “The Righteous Mind: Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religion,” Jonathan Haidt argues that people are “groupish” in addition to being driven by (enlightened) self-interest. We promote our interests in competition with our peers, but we also promote our group’s interest in competition with other groups. We have been hardwired for this behavior through a few hundred thousand years of evolution, in which the more cohesive a group was, the more likely it was to succeed. We are unlikely to “convert” members of other groups to see things the way our own does.
Although Haidt cautions that our groupish instincts can facilitate war, genocide, and aggression, he notes that groupishness can be leveraged to promote altruism, morality, and cooperation. According to his “hive psychology hypothesis,” human nature is 90 percent like “chimpanzees” and 10 percent like “bees.” Although we are mostly driven for individual competition, we have the ability, under special circumstances, to cooperate with members of our own group and with other groups as well.
Commenting on this phenomenon, the evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins wrote we need to “maximize the benefits of our hivishness while minimizing its negative externalities.” How can we work together beyond our immediate circles? How can we use our groupish tendencies to promote cooperation between American and Israeli Jews rather than division?
We need to accept that these two communities have different experiences and perspectives. Rather than trying to convert one another, let’s try to understand one another.
We need to accept that these two communities have different experiences and perspectives. Rather than trying to convert one another, let’s try to understand one another.
Where are Israelis coming from? Although Israel is one of the most powerful countries in the world, it is surrounded by Hezbollah, Hamas, ISIS, and other terrorist groups. Israelis experience a sense of vulnerability as their daily reality, and they want security. Because they are repeatedly singled out for unfair treatment at the UN and often feel maligned by European governments, Israelis want the support of other countries and leaders. So to have Donald Trump say that he unwaveringly supports Israel — and to have him move the embassy to Jerusalem and announce the normalization of relations with the UAE, Bahrain, and Sudan — allays these doubts and concerns. And it runs even deeper: Israelis are often tired of promises of world peace, and some are now suggesting to try to shrink the conflict as opposed to “solve” it. Trump is viewed as the leader who understands that; former President Barack Obama and Vice President Biden are perceived as reflecting a misguided and naive idea that the Middle East conflict will be solved.
The American Jewish community lives with a different daily reality. They are likely to vote based on their own set of immediate concerns: the COVID-19 pandemic, health care, the economy, and race relations, according to the AJC survey. For many American Jews, the values of social justice and tikkun olam, including equal rights and dignity for all people, are essential to who they are and how they vote. Given their values and experience, it’s not surprising that a majority would vote for Biden, especially as he, too, has a record of supporting Israel.
Mutually understanding one another is an important step toward healing the divide between the two communities, but our efforts cannot stop there. Haidt argues that to activate the 10 percent of our nature that is inclined to collaborate, we need to rally around a common purpose. To improve the relationship between Israeli and American Jews, we need to recognize our shared destiny and commit to working toward that future together. A story in the Torah illustrates what this transformation in mindset looks like.
To improve the relationship between Israeli and American Jews, we need to recognize our shared destiny and commit to working toward that future together.
When the Jewish people were about to enter the Promised Land, they had already endured years of slavery and persecution in Egypt. They had spent 40 years in the wilderness, living without normal security or provisions outside of divine protection and not knowing what the future would hold. After undergoing all of these trials, the tribes of Reuben and Gad say they do not want to enter the Promised Land.
Initially, Moses balks at their request, asking almost incredulously, “Shall your brothers go to war while you sit here?” Ultimately, the tribes of Reuben and Gad give their commitment to Moses that they would not abandon the community, Knesset Yisrael, in fulfilling its shared mission and would never sow discord. The tribes firmly assert, “We will not return to our homes until each one of the Israelites has inherited his portion.” They join the rest of the tribes in the conquest of the Land of Israel and, along with half of the tribe of Menashe, settle on the other side of the Jordan River.
This story is instructive for dealing with divisions in the Jewish community today. Moses does not try to force the two tribes to live in the Land of Israel against their own best interests. Instead, he accepts their desires but stipulates that they cannot abdicate their responsibility to the Jewish people and the destiny they all shared (conquering Israel and creating a Jewish national entity). For their part, the tribes of Reuben and Gad do not abandon their own values and self-interest. But they are willing to make sacrifices out of a recognition that they are part of Knesset Yisrael.
Making this story even more pertinent is the often omitted epilogue, which appears in the book of Joshua. After Canaan is conquered and the two tribes want to return to their plots outside the promised land, they again face backlash. This time, Joshua’s main concern is that living in separate geographical locations will result in separate religions. In response, the tribes of Reuben and Gad create a pact that they will continue to worship the same God. The message of this story, which reinforces the beginning of it, is that we share a creed, a message, and a bond that transcends our zipcode.
There are times when we need to transcend the interests of our own group and work together with our entire community. The reality is that as Jews, we have automatic membership in the Jewish people — whether or not we see ourselves that way. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik captured this idea when he wrote that the Jewish people are bound by a “covenant of fate” (brit goral) and a “covenant of destiny” (brit yeud). The “covenant of fate” refers to what happens to us as a collective Jewish community, regardless of where we live, who we vote for, and which synagogue we attend. The “covenant of destiny” refers to our actions and the work the Jewish people are called to do together.
There are some who would respond to what I am arguing by saying, “It sounds good in theory to work together and focus on the goals we all share, but this won’t work in practice because my values are incompatible with their values. How will this work when the two groups have values that conflict?”
Years ago, Rabbi David Cooper of Kehilla Community Synagogue suggested that there are both “prophets” and “guardians” within the Jewish community. The priority of “prophets” is to hold Israel and the Jewish people accountable for being a light unto the nations, call out oppression against all people, and build a future that is more just and compassionate. The instinct of “guardians” is to ensure the security of Israel and the Jewish people, preserve our lives and traditions, and continue to have autonomy in our ancient homeland.
Of course, it’s a gross oversimplification to say that everyone is either a “prophet” or a “guardian.” Most of us can relate to both of these perspectives, and both personae can reside within the same individual. At the same time, many of us may be inclined toward one approach over the other.
But let’s assume, for the moment, that the world is divided into “prophets” and “guardians.” Although these two perspectives can seem worlds apart, they make us who we are as a Jewish community. If we can accept that reality and people with different perspectives, then we will not only improve our coexistence — we will also strengthen one another and our communities as well. At the end of the day, the guardian and the prophet need each other. The guardian needs to be reminded by the prophet: “If we are only for ourselves, who are we?” And the prophet needs to be reminded by the guardian: “If we are not for ourselves, who will be?”
Too often, however, we see things only through our own lens. Social media amplifies this tunnel vision. We don’t need to change our fundamental views, but we must get out of our virtual and real-life echo chambers. Let’s “zoom out” of our perspective to recognize that the way we see things is a vital and necessary part of the big picture. Without acknowledging and appreciating the value of other perspectives, our own ideas are weaker. It is not a matter of courtesy to do this, but a necessity.
We don’t need to change our fundamental views, but we must get out of our virtual and real-life echo chambers.
We should apply this approach to the relationship between Israeli and American Jews. Already, some organizations — such as the Z3 Project, Reverse Birthright, Interwoven, and the Jewish Peoplehood Coalition — are helping bridge this divide. At OpenDor Media, a non-profit Jewish media company, where I am senior vice president, we are collaborating with the Z3 Project to create a series of short films about pressing Jewish issues that impact and connect Israeli, American, and world Jewry. The Z3 Project experiments in new ways for these two communities to connect, exchange ideas, and even make collective decisions together. We share their commitment to helping the Jewish community transcend our differences, strengthen our sense of peoplehood, and embrace our shared destiny together.
Soloveitchik’s covenants of fate and destiny still bind our entire community today. Having this awareness and being willing to work together to build our shared future is critical to Israeli and American Jews’ relationship. After all, we are members not only of the American Jewish community or the Israeli Jewish community, but also of Knesset Yisrael, with work that is meant for all of us to do together. If enough of us make this simple yet powerful switch in mindset, we will have a chance to heal this rift and work together to create a brighter future for the Jewish people.
Dr. Noam L. Weissman is the Senior Vice President of OpenDor Media, which seeks to explore Israel and the Jewish story in all its complexity.
