American Jews: Where Do We Go From Here?

Two months ago, I published American Jews Ask: How Did We Get Here?, examining the forces contributing to rising antisemitism, declining support for Israel, and the erosion of the American values that helped make this country an extraordinary home for generations of Jews.

The November 3 midterm elections have made those concerns more urgent. Democrats won control of both houses of Congress amid widespread dissatisfaction with the Iran war, the cost of living, and the Trump administration. The results also raise questions about the growing influence of democratic socialism and the future of American support for Israel.

For American Jews, the question is no longer simply how we got here. It is where we go from here.

The Cost of War and the Cost of Avoiding It

Vice President JD Vance offered an unusually candid explanation for the Republican defeat. According to Reuters, he identified the war with Iran as the principal reason Republicans lost Congress.

Americans have paid a substantial price through military expenditures, economic uncertainty, and higher gasoline prices associated with disruptions to shipping through the Strait of Hormuz. These costs are real.

But something is missing from much of the discussion.

We hear repeatedly about the cost of confronting Iran. We hear remarkably little about the potentially catastrophic consequences of allowing a hostile Iranian regime to acquire nuclear weapons and the missiles capable of delivering them. The stakes are moral as well as strategic. Israel is more than a military ally. It is a Jewish democracy, a refuge for a people repeatedly threatened with destruction, and a source of extraordinary contributions to medicine, science, and technology. Allowing a regime that threatens its existence to gain nuclear coercive power could imperil far more than a regional balance of forces.  The destruction or intimidation of Israel would not merely be a geopolitical defeat. It would be a moral defeat for the democratic world, including the United States, which has long claimed that freedom, human dignity, and national self-determination are principles worth defending.

What would a nuclear-armed Iran mean for Israel, whose existence Iranian leaders have repeatedly threatened? For American forces and allies throughout the Middle East? For the world’s energy supplies if Iran could threaten shipping through the Strait of Hormuz under the protection of a nuclear arsenal?

And what might it cost to confront Iran after it acquired those weapons?

As an engineer, I spent much of my career evaluating complex systems, weighing risks, and comparing alternatives. One elementary principle is that the cost of a proposed solution must be compared with the cost of the problem it is intended to prevent.

That does not establish that every military decision was correct or that diplomacy could not have produced a better outcome. But evaluating the cost of action while treating the cost of inaction as zero is not sound analysis.

In my September essay, I argued that President Trump should have given Americans the equivalent of Franklin Roosevelt’s fireside chats. He needed to explain the Iranian threat, define victory, and make clear why sacrifices today might prevent a far greater catastrophe tomorrow.

The election raises the question of whether the administration failed to communicate its strategy, pursued a strategy voters rejected, or both. Preliminary ABC News voter polling found that the cost of living and concerns about government corruption were more frequently described as crucial voting issues than the war itself.

Whatever the explanation, the strategic question remains. The cost of preventing a catastrophe must be weighed against the potential cost of allowing it to occur.

The Return of Aspirational Socialism

The election also highlighted the growing influence of the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) and other progressive candidates.

Their appeal is understandable. Young Americans face high housing costs, expensive education, uncertain career prospects, and doubts about whether they will enjoy the opportunities available to their parents.

The DSA offers an attractive collection of aspirational promises: universal healthcare, free college tuition, affordable housing, and expanded government guarantees of economic security.

Who wouldn’t want these benefits?

But aspirations are not economic plans.

Consider Medicare for All. An October 2026 House Budget Committee analysis cites an estimate of approximately $47 trillion in additional federal expenditures over ten years. Some of that spending would replace private insurance premiums and existing healthcare expenditures, so the figure does not represent an equivalent increase in total national healthcare costs. Nevertheless, financing such a transformation would require major decisions about taxation, insurance arrangements, physician reimbursement, and access to care.

Those questions cannot be resolved by promising that healthcare will be free.

There is something familiar about this political enthusiasm.

During the 1960s, radical movements on American campuses embraced socialism, communism, and other revolutionary ideologies, promising a more just and equitable society. Many young people were attracted by those aspirations without fully appreciating the historical record of the systems being advocated.

Today’s democratic socialists are not identical to the communist movements of that era. But the appeal of sweeping promises, accompanied by insufficient attention to economic constraints, has a recognizable historical precedent.

The issue is not whether the goals are desirable. Many are. The question is whether the proposed means of achieving them are feasible, economically sustainable, and compatible with the individual freedom and innovation that have contributed so much to American prosperity.

This brings us back to a central concern of my September essay: education. In some K–12 classrooms and college courses, American history is presented predominantly through oppression and colonialism. Those injustices are real and must be taught. But so must the achievements of constitutional government, freedom of conscience, scientific progress, and America’s capacity to correct its own failures. A curriculum that teaches only indictment is no more intellectually honest than one that teaches only celebration.  

Are we teaching young Americans enough history to understand the consequences of earlier ideological experiments? Enough economics to distinguish aspirations from feasible policies? Enough critical thinking to question appealing promises, regardless of who makes them?

Young people should challenge established institutions. But they should also be equipped to challenge those who promise to replace them. Civics, geography, economic reasoning, and the habit of asking for evidence are essential. When demonstrators chant “From the river to the sea,” can they identify the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea, explain the competing meanings attached to the slogan, and consider what those meanings imply for Israelis and Palestinians? The point is not to prohibit slogans. It is to insist on understanding before repeating them.  The same habit of inquiry should apply when students encounter competing accounts of American history: what is the evidence, what has been omitted, and what would change their minds?

Israel and the Changing American Political Coalition

For American Jews, perhaps the most consequential development is the weakening of the bipartisan consensus that historically supported Israel.

The Democratic Party remains home to many strong supporters of Israel. Yet it also contains a progressive faction that increasingly challenges traditional American support for the Jewish state, including activists who reject Israel’s legitimacy as a Jewish state. That is a much more consequential position than criticism of a particular Israeli government. The Jewish people’s continuous historical and religious connection to the land, and Israel’s establishment in 1948 following the United Nations partition recommendation, cannot be erased by reducing the Jewish state to a colonial caricature.

The election of Abdul El-Sayed to the United States Senate from Michigan illustrates this tension. His campaign generated substantial opposition from Jewish organizations and Democratic figures concerned about his positions and rhetoric regarding Israel.

Criticism of Israeli government policy does not itself constitute antisemitism. Israelis themselves vigorously debate their government’s decisions.

But there is a fundamental difference between criticizing Israel’s policies and denying the Jewish people the right to national self-determination. Anti-Zionism and antisemitism are not interchangeable in every circumstance, but rhetoric that singles out Jews for a denial of rights granted to other peoples deserves serious scrutiny. Iran’s ruling regime and some far-left activists approach Israel from very different ideological starting points. Their hostility to the Jewish state nonetheless raises a moral question: what is lost when a democratic society’s legitimacy, and the values that sustain it, are treated as disposable?

Nor should American Jews assume that the Republican Party provides an uncomplicated alternative.

The Iran war has intensified divisions among Republicans over American military commitments abroad. Questions about continuing military assistance to Israel have emerged even among politicians who historically described themselves as strongly pro-Israel.

American support for Israel cannot safely depend on the fortunes of one party or the preferences of one president.

It must rest on shared interests and enduring principles.

A Partnership, Not a Dependency

The renewed discussion of ending America’s annual military assistance to Israel deserves a more informed debate.

Under the existing agreement, Israel receives approximately $3.8 billion annually in military assistance, much of which requires purchases from American defense manufacturers. The relationship is mutually beneficial. Israel is a technological and intelligence partner, not simply an aid recipient. Its Trophy active protection system, deployed on American tanks, is one example of the value it contributes.

Israel’s growing strength may permit a gradual reduction in direct assistance. But financial independence should not end strategic cooperation in defense technology, intelligence, innovation, and regional security.

Where Do American Jews Go From Here?

In my September essay, I drew on a lesson from my career in engineering and innovation. Successful organizations often become vulnerable because the strategies that served them well in the past create confidence that those strategies will continue to work.

American Jewish institutions developed during decades when antisemitism appeared to be declining, Jewish participation in American life was flourishing, and bipartisan support for Israel seemed secure.

Those conditions have changed.

The midterms did not create the change. They have made it harder to ignore.

American Jewish institutions should respond with more than statements of concern, fundraising appeals, and familiar programs. They should invest in serious civic and historical education for Jewish students and the wider public. Teach the American founding alongside its failures, the history of Zionism alongside Palestinian history, and the distinction between evidence and assertion. Encourage students to examine opposing arguments and form judgments of their own. Build relationships across political and religious communities with Americans committed to constitutional democracy and religious freedom.

They should also evaluate their own programs more rigorously. Which efforts actually improve historical understanding, strengthen Jewish identity, reduce prejudice, or build durable support for Israel? Which are simply continuations of programs whose effectiveness is assumed rather than demonstrated?

These questions require evidence, measurable outcomes, and a willingness to redirect resources when existing approaches are not working.

American Jews should also resist interpreting every election through traditional party loyalties. Neither party is politically uniform, and neither should be exempt from scrutiny.

This brings me back to the American ideal I emphasized in September: E pluribus unum, out of many, one.

America’s extraordinary achievement has been its ability to welcome people of different religions, ethnicities, and backgrounds while uniting them around a common constitutional framework.

That framework does not require abandoning one’s heritage. It requires accepting that individual liberty, equality before the law, freedom of religion, and democratic government apply to everyone.

American Jews have benefited enormously from those principles. We have an equally profound interest in preserving them.

The November election has not settled the larger questions about America’s future, Israel’s security, or the place of Jews in American society.

But it has made one lesson unmistakable. We cannot assume that the institutions, political alliances, and educational approaches that served American Jews so well in the past will continue to protect our future.

Jewish history teaches us that survival is never guaranteed. It depends on understanding the world as it is, recognizing dangers before they become catastrophes, and having the courage to change course while there is still time.

Author’s Note

In preparing this essay, I used ChatGPT as an intelligent assistant in developing and editing it, including identifying and checking historical sources and generating the accompanying graphic. The ideas and conclusions are my own.