How Young Jews Can Save the Planet, And Each Other

If you’re Jewish, you’ve no doubt heard the phrase “two Jews, three opinions.” After a historic year for antisemitism, it’s time we get on the same page about something.

In 2024, young Jews in Israel and the United States could not be more different. Many Israeli Jews lament why some American Jews identify as anti-Zionist; and many American Jews resent Israeli Jews for electing a government they disagree with whose actions have spurred antisemitism directed toward them. As the two countries with the highest Jewish populations, a strong Israel-U.S. alliance is essential for protecting Jews around the world from antisemitism and terrorism — but that won’t last if young Jews can’t find common ground across the pond.

Despite this cultural divide, there is one common thread between Israeli and American Jews: environmentalism. Israeli and American Jews are both emerging as global climate leaders, with very different but equally intriguing styles. If we join forces, we can address the climate crisis, promote peace, and reunite our community all at the same time.

Jewish tradition puts environmental stewardship front and center, from land-based holidays like Tu BiShvat and Sukkot to biblical teachings of Shomrei Adamah, Bal Tashchit, and Pikuach Nefesh. However, Israeli and American Jews each have their own ethos as it pertains to environmentalism, with Israelis primarily driven by innovation and strengthening the state; and Americans focused more on political and community engagement.

In Israel, engineers developed desalination which now contributes 85% of the nation’s drinking water. Israeli entrepreneurs have launched over 850 climate solutions companies, exporting technologies worldwide and earning Israel a ranking of No. 6 on the 2017 Global CleanTech Innovation Index. For decades, traditional agricultural communities called kibbutzim rooted in collectivism and egalitarianism have developed new sustainable farming practices while helping global Jews migrate to Israel. And since 1901, the Jewish National Fund has planted over 250 million trees in Israel through their mission of reestablishing Israel as a Jewish homeland, making Israel the only country on Earth with more trees in 2000 than in 1900.

For American Jews, environmentalism takes a different form: building influence. Adamah, North America’s largest Jewish environmental organization with farm campuses in Maryland and Connecticut, has mobilized a Jewish Climate Leadership Coalition with over 200 members and engaged 20,000 people in immersive retreats and Jewish environmental education. Elsewhere, activists at Dayenu: A Jewish Call to Climate Action played a key role in pushing Jewish legislators to pass historic clean energy investments via the Inflation Reduction Act and connect the bill’s passage with Tisha B’Av, a Jewish day commemorating historical destruction and rebuilding. And just a few months ago, the Union for Reform Judaism, representing three million American Jews, approved a resolution recommending its institutions pull their money out of fossil fuels and engage in shareholder advocacy with other polluting industries. In fact, Jews are more likely to view climate change as a “crisis” than any other U.S. religious group, and we vote at exceedingly high rates.

With Israeli and American Jews reading from the same Torah, these contrasting approaches to environmentalism may appear strange. But it is not religion that drives our environmentalism. Rather, it is our secular values that, while deeply different between Israeli and American Jews, both yield positive environmental outcomes.

Following the Holocaust, the global Jewish community had to answer some difficult questions. Who are we? How do we fit into the world? What keeps us safe? For Israeli Jews, the answer was Zionism. If we can have our own state on our ancestral homeland with our own military, we can grow strong and protect ourselves. For American Jews, the answer was tikkun olam, the Jewish practice of “repairing the world.” If we engage in progressive social causes, we can make the world safer around us — which in turn will keep us safe.

This narrative, albeit oversimplified, helps explain the divergence of Israeli and American Jewish values. 73% of Israeli Jews aged 18-24 identify as right-wing; whereas 60% of American Jews aged 18-29 describe themselves as liberal. Israeli Jews see mandatory military service as an important right of passage; yet I shudder to imagine an American Jewish mother’s reaction to her son or daughter picking up a weapon, let alone joining the military. 

On October 7, both stories shattered.

Israeli Jews experienced the deadliest attack in the nation’s history, which their government and military failed to prevent. American Jews experienced a dramatic rise in antisemitism within the progressive spaces they helped build. At the extremes, young Israelis who grew up during the Second Intifada and have not seen a promising peace effort in their lifetimes have been radicalized toward violent interpretations of Zionism. And young Americans, raised on progressive values trying to repair the world alongside their friends (including climate leaders) who now chant “crush Zionism” and “intifada revolution” at protests, have been radicalized against Jewish self-determination entirely.

Of course, this narrative is far from universal. I have several Israeli and American Jewish friends on both sides of the aisle with far more nuanced views. Still, a divide persists. During my Birthright trip in Israel, our staffer asked our group of 8 Israelis and 15 Americans: “Do you identify more with your Judaism or your nationality?” Both the Israeli and American contingents had folks on their countries’ left and right; nevertheless, all of the Israelis and most of the Americans sided with their nationality. Among 23 young Jews, most identified with our difference over our similarity.

But we don’t need to tear down our values to find commonality; in fact, climate action offers the perfect outlet to blend our values together. Israeli researchers, startups, and kibbutzim are already exporting climate solutions to America; while American Jews are finding ways to implement solutions equitably on the ground and ensure U.S. politicians support Israeli innovation and security. This climate work can even drive peace efforts — for example, an Israeli startup launched a clean water partnership with an Emirati firm in 2020, a collaboration made possible by the Abraham Accords which the U.S. negotiated that year. If young Jews in each country join this process, we can start appreciating each other’s strengths, reuniting our people, and building bridges with the rest of the world.

History is rich with wildly influential Jews, from Albert Einstein to Neils Bohr to Sigmund Freud — a trend often attributed to everlasting Jewish values such as education, perseverance, and a zeal for speaking our mind. The climate crisis needs that magic. And by merging Israeli Jewish ingenuity with American Jewish progressivism, we can not only repair the world, but repair the Jewish community too.