The following essay is part of a collaboration between eJewishPhilanthropy and the Center for Jewish Peoplehood Education, which will publish a new edition of its Peoplehood Papers series, “The Rifts Within Israeli Society – How Should World Jewry Respond?”, with this essay and more, in the beginning of April.

Oct. 7 brought Israeli society back to discussions of “conceptual collapse” (Hakonseptzia), a term previously reserved for the shock of the Yom Kippur War. The intelligence failures revealed by IDF and Shin-Bet investigations exposed a collective blindness despite clear warning signs. As with most strategic surprises, all the information was there — we just failed to connect the dots. 

But this blindness is not uniquely Israeli. Until Oct. 7, many believed we were living in Judaism’s golden age. Jewish population numbers approached pre-Holocaust levels. Israel had become an economic and military powerhouse. American Jews enjoyed unprecedented prosperity and influence. 

Yet the immediate aftermath of Oct. 7 shattered the illusion that American Jews were insulated from these shocks. The surge in antisemitism across U.S. campuses and public spaces blindsided Jewish institutional leadership, which had largely dismissed warnings that anti-Jewish sentiment was inching toward mainstream legitimacy. While violent right-wing extremism was taken seriously, left-wing antisemitism was often downplayed.

American Jews quickly realized that Oct. 7 wasn’t merely an Israeli tragedy but an attack on Jewish identity itself. As Franklin Foer wrote in his widely-discussed essay “The Golden Age of American Jews Is Ending,” this exceptional era of safety and prosperity is unraveling not just for Jews but potentially for the liberal social order they helped establish. The fundamental surprise that struck American Jewry suggests a new, risk-filled chapter not just for Jews but for American society itself. 

The tether between the fate of American Jews and the welfare of America at large has been a staple of American Jewish life. The Jewish challenge in the Goldene Medina has always been the tension between two forces: assimilation and isolation. The economic and political conditions of the United States allowed Jews to thrive, creating a unique challenge: how to become fully American without losing Jewish identity. Some fully assimilated, others established insular communities. The mainstream Jewish world sought a middle path, and in the early 20th century, it found a compelling answer: Zionism.

In 1915, Louis D. Brandeis laid out this vision in The Jewish Problem, How to Solve It. Brandeis argued that Zionism was not only compatible with American patriotism but an essential expression of it. “Let no American imagine that Zionism is inconsistent with patriotism,” he declared. “Every American Jew who aids in advancing the Jewish settlement in Palestine… will likewise be a better man and a better American for doing so. Indeed, loyalty to America demands rather that each American Jew become a Zionist.”

Brandeis’s formula was brilliant: It framed American Jews’ connection to the Jewish homeland not as a divided loyalty but as an expression of American pluralism. America was a tapestry of nationalities sharing a common civic identity while maintaining cultural connections to ancestral homelands. Through this lens, supporting Jewish national aspirations strengthened rather than compromised American citizenship.

Despite American Zionism’s proven success, this vision mutated over the years. The Jewish community’s initial hesitant support for Israel intensified dramatically after 1948, and especially after 1967, when Israel evolved from one aspect of Jewish identity into its sacred centerpiece. Brandeis’s American Zionism, originally conceived to enhance American citizenship, mutated to a point where support for Israel became the defining feature of American Jewish identity.

Unwavering support for Israel served as the linchpin of American Jewish identity, ushering a Jewish Golden Age, but not everyone was on board. As Israel grew in power and with the collapse of the peace process, the Jewish far-left intensified its efforts to sever the bond between American Jews and the Jewish state. The controversial documentary “Israelism,” which has stirred debates since Oct. 7 while presenting a distorted narrative full of half-truths, highlights two uncomfortable realities: American Jewish institutions have often avoided confronting the realities of military occupation, while Jewish education has developed an outsized focus on Israel. Yet, while the filmmakers identify legitimate concerns, their proposed solution — substituting the romanticization of Israeli identity with the romanticization of Palestinian identity — fundamentally misreads what young American Jews are looking for.

Recent polling reveals that despite deep concerns about Israel’s actions in Gaza — 42% of American Jewish teens believe Israel is committing genocide and 67% believe Israel’s actions are making life harder for Jews — the vast majority remain deeply connected to Israel. Oct. 7 clarified an inescapable reality: American Jews cannot simply disconnect from Israel, even if they are deeply critical of its policies.

Oct. 7 made it clear to American Jews that they have no choice but to be connected to Israel. Historically, traditional antisemitism offered an escape; during the Inquisition, for instance, conversion could save a Jew. In the Nazis’ racial version of antisemitism, however, Jewishness was inescapable. Today’s “new” antisemitism fuses both. Every Jew is presumed complicit in Israel’s actions, with only one path to absolution: conversion. Wear a keffiyeh, drape yourself in a Palestinian flag, chant “Free Palestine” and denounce Zionism, and you may be accepted. Once, being a liberal Zionist was enough. Now, that position is exiled from progressive circles. The demand now is total rejection. Most American Jews, even the deeply critical ones, refuse this ultimatum. Whether they like it or not, their fate and Israel’s remain intertwined.

That said, Israel is no longer the struggling state that American Jews must support unconditionally. It is a regional power with remarkable achievements alongside serious flaws. The younger generation experiences Israel primarily as a strong, culturally vibrant nation, not primarily through the lens of existential peril or Holocaust memory.

This shifting reality demands a new identity framework. Without one, young Jews won’t necessarily turn against Israel — they may simply drift away, no longer seeing it as a source of inspiration. Recent Gallup polling shows Israel has become the most polarizing country for Americans, with 83% of Republicans viewing it favorably compared to just 33% of Democrats. Given that most American Jews vote Democratic, they are caught between a rock and a hard place. If this trend continues, the Jewish-Israel relationship may come to resemble that of other diasporas—less a deep, defining connection and more a distant cultural tie. For the next generation, Israel may no longer unite Jews but instead become just another country to which they feel a vague, occasional attachment.

American Jews stand at a crossroads, caught between growing alienation from American society and an increasingly strained relationship with Israel. This is the “new” Jewish Problem. Many feel pressured to choose between two extremes: downplaying their connection to Israel in pursuit of a more “peaceful” American life, or embracing Israel while feeling increasingly disconnected from the country they call home. This tension is fueling a resurgence of Jewish pride movements — an encouraging reaffirmation of identity, but also a potential path toward insularity. While these movements strengthen ties to Israel, they risk fostering a type of “Jewish nationalism” that deepens the separation between Jews and broader American society.

Brandeis can offer us a way forward. If we accept Zionism as an essential part of American citizenship, we must not only strengthen connections to Israel but also focus on rebuilding the American Jewish identity and revolutionize American Jewish education. It is absurd that American Jews can quote Ben-Gurion and Rabin but not Brandeis and Kaplan. American Jews know plenty about Israel’s 77 years but very little of the over 370 years of the history of American Jews in North America. To sustain a meaningful connection to Israel while maintaining their place in American society, Jews must return to Brandeis’s original conception: approaching Zionism through Americanism.

This means cultivating a conception of Jewish peoplehood that centers on the Jewish people, not the State of Israel. Israelis will be Israelis, and Americans will be Americans, but we will all be Jews. This requires educational reform that develops an authentic and independent American Jewish identity alongside Israel engagement and simultaneous calls on Israelis to strengthen their connection to American Jewry, to the people themselves, not just their wallets. 

If American Jewish institutions want to keep young Jews engaged, they must move beyond a narrow pro-Israel approach and embrace American Zionism, which, as Brandeis put it, is “idealist, but it is also essentially practical.” Glossing over Israel’s flaws or avoiding hard conversations doesn’t build loyalty — it breeds disillusionment. A more open, self-assured Jewish education — one that acknowledges complexity rather than shying away from it — won’t weaken support for Israel. It will make it stronger, more resilient and, most importantly, real.

Zionism does not mean unconditional support for the Israeli government. It calls on both American Jews and Israelis to “lead earnestly, courageously and joyously in the struggle of liberation.” Only a return to Zionism based on strengthening American identity can allow the next generation to rediscover its path, maintaining a connection to Israel while forging a renewed sense of meaning to American Jewish life. This, in turn, can usher in a new golden age for the most significant and successful Jewish community outside the borders of the Holy Land.

Barak Sella is an Israeli-American educator, writer and expert on U.S.-Israel relations and World Jewry. He is a Harvard Middle East Initiative research fellow and the former director of the Reut Institute.