Malik Roberts

Trump Is No Friend to Israel. Here’s Why

Donald Trump was never a genuine ally of the Jewish people or the State of Israel. It should surprise nobody, Jewish or otherwise, that a man whose defining characteristic is self-interest would approach the Jewish state in precisely the same manner he approaches everything else in his life: transactionally, opportunistically, and with an eye toward his own personal enrichment, aggrandizement, and glory.

The mistake is to confuse a political favor with a moral commitment, a diplomatic achievement with a principled friendship, or a president’s public declarations of support with an enduring dedication to the security and well-being of the Jewish people.

Trump has repeatedly demonstrated that he understands none of these distinctions—or, more accurately, that he has no interest in honoring them.

Consider what happened at his recent rally in Kansas.

On October 19, while defending Republican Senator Roger Marshall against criticism over his history of suing patients for unpaid medical bills, Trump casually described the senator’s critics as having portrayed Marshall as a “Shylock-type guy.” The term is an antisemitic trope derived from Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice, in which Shylock, a Jewish moneylender, has become a longstanding cultural symbol of Jewish greed and usury.

This was not even the first time Trump had used the term publicly. He had invoked it at a rally in Iowa in 2025, subsequently claiming that he did not know of its antisemitic connotations.

One might have expected a president who so frequently boasts of his friendship with Israel to exercise considerably more care with language carrying centuries of antisemitic baggage. One might also have expected him to understand that words spoken by the most powerful elected official in the United States carry consequences far beyond the confines of a campaign rally.

Instead, Trump repeated the offense.

The problem is not simply that the president used an antisemitic expression. It is that he did so after having already been criticized for using it. Whatever his professed intentions, the repetition makes his earlier explanation considerably less convincing. Ignorance, once pointed out, is no longer an adequate excuse for refusing to learn.

And that brings us to the larger question: What, precisely, makes Trump a friend of Israel?

His supporters will point to the Abraham Accords, his recognition of Jerusalem as Israel’s capital, the relocation of the American embassy, his recognition of Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, and his administration’s diplomatic efforts to secure the release of the October 7 hostages.

These are not inconsequential matters. Some of these actions were significant diplomatic achievements, and the return of hostages to their families was an outcome worth celebrating. It would be dishonest to pretend otherwise.

But acknowledging a beneficial outcome does not require us to romanticize the person responsible for it. Nor does it oblige us to suspend our judgment about his character, motives, or conduct.

A politician can do something good for the Jewish state without possessing a deep commitment to Jewish security. A president can facilitate a diplomatic breakthrough while simultaneously treating the people whose lives depend on it as supporting characters in his own personal mythology.

Trump’s relationship with Israel is not an exception to his character. It is an extension of it.

Like so many other relationships throughout his long, hedonistic, vindictive, and frequently self-aggrandizing public life, his relationship with Israel is transactional. His support is valuable when it produces political dividends, enhances his reputation, or gives him an opportunity to contrast himself with his predecessors. The question is what happens when supporting Israel becomes inconvenient, politically costly, or incompatible with his desire to be celebrated.

That is the question American Jews and Israelis alike ought to be asking.

Consider Trump’s fixation on the Nobel Peace Prize.

His administration’s role in brokering the agreement that secured the return of the remaining October 7 hostages deserves recognition. Their families had endured an unimaginable ordeal, and their release was a moment of profound relief. But it is equally legitimate to ask why Trump has so persistently sought international recognition for his diplomatic efforts.

There is a difference between pursuing peace because peace is necessary and pursuing peace because one wishes to be recognized as the man who achieved it.

Trump has made no secret of his desire for a Nobel Peace Prize. The fact that Barack Obama received one in 2009, during the first year of his presidency, has long been a source of resentment for Trump. The former president’s achievement has become another point of comparison in Trump’s seemingly endless competition with a predecessor whose legacy he remains determined to diminish.

Obama’s Nobel Prize was awarded in recognition of his efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation. One need not consider that award beyond criticism to recognize that Trump’s resentment of it has become an unmistakable feature of his public persona.

And so, when Trump pursues a diplomatic achievement, it is fair to ask whether the objective is peace itself, the political benefits of peace, or the prospect of finally receiving an honor he believes the world has unfairly denied him.

We cannot read another man’s mind. But we can evaluate the priorities he repeatedly demonstrates.

An eighty-year-old president who has spent years nursing grievances against Barack Obama should not be permitted to turn the security of Israel, the lives of Jewish hostages, or the future of the Middle East into props in a personal contest for historical recognition.

Israel is not a trophy. The hostages were not bargaining chips in a competition between American presidents. And the Jewish people are not obliged to provide Trump with an appreciative audience simply because his administration has taken actions that served their interests.

There is a particularly troubling irony here. Trump has cultivated a reputation as an uncompromising defender of Israel, while too often treating the Jewish people as a political constituency whose approval he can purchase through gestures, declarations, and carefully staged displays of solidarity.

But the Jewish people are not a monolith. American Jews are not political property. Israelis are not obligated to endorse every American president who claims to support their country. And Jewish security cannot be reduced to the question of which political party offers the most flattering rhetoric.

Nor should the Jewish community be expected to overlook antisemitic language simply because the person using it has adopted a pro-Israel foreign policy.

This is where the distinction between anti-Zionism, antisemitism, and criticism of Israeli policy matters. Supporting Israel’s right to exist and defending the Jewish people’s right to national self-determination are entirely compatible with criticizing an Israeli government. Likewise, recognizing the value of American support for Israel does not require excusing antisemitism from an American president.

Indeed, the stakes make such scrutiny more important, not less.

When a president invokes a centuries-old antisemitic stereotype, the appropriate response should not depend on whether he happens to be favorable toward the Israeli government. Antisemitism does not become harmless when it comes from a political ally. The standard must be consistent, or it is no standard at all.

And no, having a Jewish son-in-law does not settle the question.

Trump’s daughter Ivanka converted to Judaism before marrying Jared Kushner. Trump has Jewish grandchildren. These are personal and familial facts, not certificates of moral immunity.

You can have a Jewish son-in-law and still traffic in antisemitic stereotypes. You can express support for Israel and still demonstrate a troubling disregard for the history and sensitivities of the Jewish people. You can stand alongside Israeli leaders and still make every relationship contingent upon what it can do for you.

Personal proximity to Jews is not the same thing as understanding Jewish history. Family ties are not a substitute for moral consistency. And political support for Israel is not an all-purpose absolution for antisemitic rhetoric.

The question is not whether Trump has ever done anything beneficial for Israel. He has. The question is whether those accomplishments establish that he is a dependable friend of the Jewish people, whose interests extend beyond his own ambitions.

They do not.

A genuine friend of Israel understands that the Jewish state is more than an instrument of American political strategy. A genuine friend of the Jewish people understands that antisemitism cannot be excused when it comes from one’s own side. A genuine friend recognizes that the security of Israel and the safety of Jews around the world are not matters to be taken lightly, traded for personal recognition, or subordinated to the whims of a politician’s ego.

Trump has yet to demonstrate that kind of friendship consistently.

He may support Israel when doing so serves his purposes. He may broker agreements that produce genuinely welcome results. He may even make decisions that future historians judge favorably.

But none of that requires us to mistake self-interest for solidarity.

Israel deserves allies who understand its history, respect its people, and recognize that its security is not a vehicle for someone else’s vanity. The Jewish people deserve political leaders who confront antisemitism regardless of who perpetuates it. And the American public deserves a president whose pursuit of peace is measured by the lives saved and the stability achieved, rather than by the prizes he hopes to collect.

Trump wants to be remembered as a peacemaker. He wants to be regarded as Israel’s greatest friend. He wants the accolades, the photographs, the historical footnotes, and the international recognition.

But wanting to be remembered as a friend is not the same thing as being one.

And the Jewish people, of all people, should know better than to confuse the two.

About the Author
Malik Roberts is a Washington, DC-born, Atlanta-based film historian, illustrator & writer whose interests span American cinema and cultural history, and the intersection of identity and ideology. An American Zionist and advocate for civil rights, LGBTQ equality, and Jewish peoplehood, he writes from the conviction that historical memory, intellectual honesty, and moral consistency must transcend political convenience.
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