The Jewish community is devoting immense energy, emotion, and resources toward "fighting antisemitism." These efforts are crucial, and I am grateful to our leaders and institutions for their tireless work. But while we focus intently on this immediate battle, I fear we're neglecting a deeper, longer-term crisis of Jewish identity and belonging. This piece is about naming that larger challenge clearly: the re-emergence of a new “Jewish Question.”
Some Jews frame today’s moment as analogous to 1930s Germany, but it's clearer to me that we’re closer to late 19th century Europe—a historic juncture demanding boldness and creativity, instead of incremental solutions. To be clear: I don’t pretend to have definitive answers. My intention is to get closer to defining the question we’ve been avoiding, and to provoke a deeper strategic conversation. Because if we never fully grasp the nature and scale of the problem, we will inevitably remain stuck addressing symptoms rather than root causes. Let’s get straight into it.
#1 The symptom: Antisemitism
Antisemitism dominates the Jewish communal agenda today. It’s where the funding flows, where the media campaigns are focused, where the most urgent institutional energy is directed, and where most leaders’ minds are focused. This is an appropriate response, but what seems missing is the deeper analysis of what this resurgence of antisemitism actually signals. While the catalyst for today’s antisemitism has been the war in Israel, the conflict has simply been the spark, and the fuel has been building for some time. Said another way, deeper structural forces are at play, which if left unaddressed, may result in fundamental changes to the social, cultural and political spaces in which Jews have been secure over the last few generations.
We should intuit this because the individual experience of antisemitism today is defined as much by the feeling of alienation, as it is by the fear of violence. The most troubling emotion Jews carry today is the creeping doubt that they may no longer fully belong. Should I speak up about being Jewish at work? Will I be judged if I say I support Israel? What does my friend actually think about what’s happening right now? While some may not articulate it this way, it seems apparent that many Jews are asking themselves if the world they thought they were part of is still holding.
If the underlying architecture that made Jews feel integrated and safe is weakening, then antisemitism is a signal that the broader environment is shifting in ways we haven’t begun to fully articulate or confront. But instead of asking what it is that is causing this unravelling, we remain almost exclusively focused on fighting the symptoms of antisemitism, with traditional approaches: better PR, advocacy and security. Again, these initiatives are crucially important, but they’re largely designed to make the situation for Jews less worse.
My contention is that the real challenge to confront is reimagining how Jewish identity, security, and belonging can be sustained in a world that is rapidly reshaping itself around us. And thankfully (or tragically) Jewish history provides clear historical analogies, and I’d like to explore one of them to delve deeper into the thesis.
#2 The challenge: The new “Jewish Question”
The “Jewish Question” was the term used in 19th and 20th century Europe to describe the debate over the status, rights, and future of Jews within modernizing societies. It began as a negative (and increasingly antisemitic) term, but was also taken up by Jewish thinkers, including Theodor Herzl, to describe the challenge Jews faced in a changing world.
As European nations moved from feudal empires to modern nation-states—driven by revolutions, nationalism, and industrialization—Jews and non-Jews alike asked: can Jews be fully integrated into European society, and if so, how? 150 years on from the emergence of this Jewish Question, I believe we’re confronting an updated version of the same challenge. I don’t know what the specific question is this time around, but I believe there are enough parallels to make it clear that what we are living through today is not just a rise in antisemitism, but a historic challenge to the Jews’ place in a world going through increasingly turbulent change. Let’s see if the parallels line up.
In the 19th century, the rise of nationalism began to reshape Europe, transforming Jews into a new category of outsiders, which fuelled increasing suspicion and hostility. Today, we are witnessing the resurgence of nationalist and populist movements around the globe (in the US, India, China, Europe etc.). Needless to say that prioritizing national identity is a sure-fire way to distinguish the Jew as the other. Similarly, 19th century Europe experienced significant technological, economic and cultural disruptions, as industrialization and urbanization reshaped traditional ways of life. Today, we have already lived through decades of the world changing around us, as we learned to live with the costs and benefits of globalization and global connectivity. Then, as today, Jews were very visible in industries at the forefront of these changes. Then it was the Rothschilds and Montefiores, and tomorrow it will be the Zuckerbergs, Altmans and Sutskevers who will find themselves recast in familiar, troubling roles as symbols of power, control and disruption.
The parallels extend further. Both periods experienced profound crises of institutional legitimacy. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, empires, monarchies, and churches faced existential threats, opening space for movements that scapegoated Jews as conspirators or subversives. Today, declining trust in governments, media, and global institutions (something I wrote about very recently) creates a similar vacuum filled by ideological radicalization, once again placing Jews at the center of these anxieties (as anyone who follows Candace Owens or Tucker Carlson can attest). Finally, just as the mass proliferation of newspapers and pamphlets enabled antisemitic conspiracy theories—like the Protocols of the Elders of Zion—to flourish, today’s digital architecture fuels a new era of conspiratorial antisemitism at unprecedented speed.
These historical echoes aren’t coincidental. The existence of some form of a “Jewish Question”—i.e. what is the status of the Jews—is one of the only constants in Jewish history, present in the Greek, Roman, Christian, Muslim and Enlightenment periods. To read Jewish history is to be continuously asked the question “what is the place of the Jews?”. We can debate the scale and state of the change we’re currently living through, but it seems beyond doubt that the global order is in the process of moving on from the post-WWII consensus that underpinned the general stability and prosperity of the preceding decades. These decades represented a golden age for global Jewry. So if you agree that we are indeed living through a level of historic change, it’s impossible to avoid confronting what it means for the Jews.
#3 The approach: Anchored to the past
Once we frame the challenge before us more broadly than the re-emergence of antisemitism, and instead as something resembling the need to redefine the nature of Jewish identity and integration going forward, it reveals that many of our approaches to “combatting antisemitism” are either anchored to the past, or insufficient in their scope. Here are a few examples.
a) Our response is defined by incrementalism
When discussing his invention of the Model T automobile, Henry Ford (historic innovator and raging antisemite) famously observed that “If I had asked people what they wanted, they would have said faster horses,” not a yet-to-be invented car. When I look around at many of our strategies against antisemitism today, it feels like everyone is pounding the table demanding faster horses. Donors and constituents are consistently asked to support existing organizations, leaders, and strategies, on the assumption that more resources will enable them to deliver better versions of what they've historically offered: better PR, more robust advocacy, bigger events, and additional security.
These approaches are critically important, and I appreciate the impossible task our leaders have in balancing short-term requirements against long-term thinking, especially where the community demands immediate results. But if the scale of the Jewish Question we face is indeed historic and structural, then incremental improvements won’t be sufficient, and we have to find ways to address key strategic questions. It’s natural to default to tactics we already know, especially tactics that donors and supporters can quickly grasp. But the world around us is changing faster than our institutions are adapting, and incrementalism only creates the illusion of control, while delaying a deeper reckoning.
b) Some of our messaging is outdated and counterproductive
A lot of Jewish communal messaging today is rooted in appeals for protection, or Jewish vulnerability. But this strategy increasingly rings hollow in an era when Jewish affluence, influence, and institutional power are highly visible. Can we reasonably expect neutral observers to see Jews as weak or disempowered while our community excels across finance, politics, media, science, and technology? Emphasizing vulnerability doesn’t inspire sympathy. It signals weakness to our adversaries, putting “blood in the water”.
A similar issue applies to centering the Holocaust in campaigns against antisemitism. Strategies built around “Never Again” and “Never Again is Now” rely on the assumption that Holocaust education can inoculate society against antisemitism. But despite decades of efforts, antisemitism continues to thrive. Do we need more Holocaust education (i.e. faster horses), do we need to adapt Holocaust education to incorporate the Jews and the world as they are today, or has the Holocaust begun losing its resonance as a persuasive moral reference, particularly among younger non-Jewish audiences? Facing these questions doesn’t mean abandoning the Holocaust as a foundational Jewish memory; it simply means we must honestly assess whether it’s still effective as our primary tool against contemporary antisemitism.
Messaging challenges are exacerbated by our tendency toward defensiveness and emotional reactivity. Too often, criticism of Jews or Israel triggers an immediate charge of antisemitism. This makes us appear overly sensitive, and undermines the force of the accusations when we really need them. This emotional brittleness also undermines internal cohesion. When every internal disagreement is framed as something approaching betrayal, we create a “with us or against us” environment that alienates younger Jews who may hold different views. By responding defensively and emotionally to uncomfortable perspectives, whether external or internal, we risk fragmenting our community further at precisely the moment when unity and calm are most essential.
c) We’re focused on an increasingly obsolete political construct
One of the fiercest divisions within the Jewish community today is over political allegiance. Jews on one side are often genuinely horrified that others could support the opposing party, sometimes treating it as a form of betrayal. But these battles over left and right are increasingly outdated. The real divide shaping global politics now is between an elite managerial class, and populist, working-class insurgencies (as I explored in a recent Tapestry piece). And to the outside world, Jews—given our success, even if it isn’t evenly distributed—are often seen as part of that elite, regardless of how we vote.
This matters because when we fixate on left-right distinctions, we miss how our adversaries actually perceive us: less as progressives or conservatives, but simply as successful and powerful. And by clinging to outdated political identities, we ignore that both sides harbour real risks for Jewish safety. The Right may seem more pro-Israel today, but its populism (amongst other things) is giving oxygen to virulent antisemitism. The Left may align with traditional Jewish social values, but it increasingly tolerates anti-Zionist and antisemitic rhetoric. We have to be smarter when it comes to the evolving political landscape, both in who we purport to hitch our wagons to, and in how we engage with other Jews who maintain opposing views.
d) Incumbent leaders and institutions grew up in a different time
Our incumbent leaders and organizations came of age during a fundamentally different era, specifically, the long stretch of relative stability post-WWII. In the Jewish context, our communal infrastructure was largely designed to help Jews rebuild and then fortify themselves in this environment. These institutions were, by any historical measure, spectacularly successful. But we are no longer in that world, and the pace of change feels like it’s only accelerating.
There’s a well-known anthropological insight that states that in times of rapid environmental change, groups who hold-fast to existing structures (whether intentionally or because they have no choice), often struggle to adjust to new realities, and suffer as a result. Without new thinking and new leadership, we won’t be able to anticipate or confront the next phase of antisemitism, or the deeper strategic questions facing the Jewish world. This isn’t a personal critique; it’s an acknowledgment that the world is changing in ways our institutions weren’t built to handle.
Having outlined the core limitations of our current approach, it’s time to shift our focus from articulating that there is indeed a broader problem, toward exploring ideas we can carry forward. Recognizing shortcomings is necessary, but not sufficient. The deeper question we must now address is: what kinds of new thinking, strategies, and institutions do we need to meet a challenge of historic scale? Let’s continue the analogy to 19th and 20th century Europe to help us.
As Jewish thinkers pondered the Jews place in a changing world 150 years ago, they coalesced around Zionism (and its multiple forms) as the response. It answered a historic challenge with a bold idea: Jewish sovereignty in our ancestral homeland. Today, we often take for granted that Israel exists as a sovereign state. But Zionism's success shouldn’t obscure the fact that it was once a revolutionary leap in the face of immense uncertainty. Today, the relationship between the diaspora and Israel has become more complicated. Some Jews remain passionately Zionist, while others feel alienated by the country and its misdeeds. Feelings about Israel aside, my point is that the very existence of a sovereign Jewish state changes the nature of Jewish identity and vulnerability everywhere. If sovereignty was the answer to questions of Jewish identity and status 150 years ago, what does Jewish identity look like now that it’s been realized, while we still face global antisemitism, alienation, and deep internal division? In a way that I find difficult to understand, Zionism and Israel are both part of the challenges and solutions to the modern Jewish Question.
Zionism offered an answer to that moment by envisioning and then creating something that previously seemed impossible. That kind of bold, imaginative thinking is precisely what our current moment demands. I don’t claim to know exactly what the solution to today's Jewish Question is; my core argument is that we haven’t yet clearly articulated what the question itself might be. Instead, my goal here is to shift our perspective and provoke a more strategic conversation about the deeper challenges we face. While developing bold and transformative ideas will require time, here are some directional suggestions intended to help frame that critical, long-term dialogue.
#4 The ideas: Looking ahead
The ideas presented here fall well-short of a strategy. I hope that as a minimum, they’re a useful contribution to today’s fight against antisemitism, and more than that, provide food for thought to those open to the idea that there are indeed deeper questions before us. Here they are.
Acknowledge the magnitude of the challenge. First, we must recognize that our current challenges are potentially historic in scale—akin to the original Jewish Question that transformed Jewish destiny 150 years ago. No incremental increase in advocacy or better PR campaigns will suffice if we treat this merely as the resurgence of antisemitism rather than the deep, structural upheaval it arguably represents. Recognizing the scale of the challenge is the starting point for everything else. If we keep treating this as something episodic, we’ll continue applying the wrong tools, and wonder why they don’t work.
Prioritize Jewish unity above everything else. This is the most important thing we can do. We are still living with post-WWII narratives in a world that’s moving on from that order. Jews today see themselves differently than they did, and the Jewish world—which includes a strong but divided Israel—is a fundamentally different place. We need a new unifying narrative about what it means to be Jewish today. And we need to move on from internal divides that break along political and generational lines. Without unity, we can’t cohere around a new identity, strategy, or sense of purpose. And without that, we’ll remain fragmented—politically, generationally, and ideologically—just when we most need to move as one.
Stop projecting weakness. The Jewish community needs a 21st-century narrative that balances both our successes, and our vulnerability. We are successful and strong, so basing an identity on weakness doesn’t make sense. This is especially the case when Israel—a core part of many Jew’s identity—is a regional superpower. We don’t need to apologize for our strength as Jews or Zionists, we need to wield it wisely. As the broader culture shifts toward celebrating confidence and strength again, we should meet the moment with an unapologetic sense of who we are and what we’ve built.
Plan for the predictable next wave of antisemitism. As data and compute become the new currencies, old accusations about Jewish money will morph seamlessly into narratives about Jewish dominance in tech. Then it was the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, and tomorrow it will be the Cybersecurity Protocols of the Technologists of Zion. We can already see how traditional antisemitic tropes are being upgraded for the AI age, trading “Jewish bankers” for “Jewish tech barons”, and we need to get ahead of this narrative now. The reaction in parts to Google’s acquisition of Wiz (an Israeli cybersecurity company) shows how technological strength will be cast as something sinister (because now the Mossad is apparently embedded in Google’s nerve centre). It’s relatively clear where the puck is heading, so let’s skate there, and think about how we can neutralize this new line of attack before it grows teeth.
Stop sanitizing antisemitism. We've sanitized antisemitism to make it less about Jews, and more about us being easy scapegoats for things outside of our control. But people hate Jews for reasons related to our Judaism, in addition to it being a convenient prejudice. This must be the case, otherwise the degree to which Jewish history repeats itself would be an insane coincidence. Some antisemitism isn’t just projection; it’s a reaction to the reality that Jewish identity has always been distinct, sometimes confronting, and deeply enduring. Understanding this means knowing ourselves better, and more effectively confronting our enemies.
Update our relationship with Israel and Zionism, which is something I wrote about in a recent Tapestry piece. Israel and Zionism remain core parts of Jewish identity, but their meaning must expand to address new global realities. We need to move from a defensive posture (“Israel is always right”) to a constructive conversation about how a strong Jewish state can best serve and collaborate with the global Jewish population. If we want Israel to be a safe haven for Jews, we have to ensure it maintains a functioning democracy, resilient economy, and social cohesion, which we shouldn’t take for granted as the country’s leaders drive it down a dangerous path.
Empower new leaders. Our era demands leaders who grasp the unprecedented speed of technological, economic, and cultural changes. We need individuals who are not trapped by old institutional frameworks but can envision transformative solutions to new forms of antisemitism and social conflict. Cultivating and amplifying these forward-thinking voices is essential. It’s time to encourage parallel innovation: support bold thinkers and build new institutions alongside the existing ones. The next Herzl’s are already out there, we just need to give them space to lead.
Build new institutions, and consolidate the old ones. There are far too many Jewish organizations globally for the size of our respective communities. These organizations overlap in their missions, and dilute what is already a relatively small pool of talent and capital. This status quo cannot and should not persist. If ego and inertia are what maintain the status quo, then that’s an indictment on all of us for accepting it. Going forward, when organizations—old and new—ask donors for money, they should be forced to do so with an assessment that shows (a) the proposed return on investment, (b) that they are not duplicating work already being done, and (c) where they fit into the existing organizational landscape.
Bringing it together
The Jewish Question of the 19th and 20th centuries wasn’t answered overnight. It took decades of bold debate and revolutionary thinking before Zionism emerged—and even longer for it to reshape Jewish destiny. My contention here is that we are at the beginning of a similarly historic moment. The challenge is only just coming into focus, but it’s already clear that incrementalism won’t cut it. I don’t claim to have the answers. My goal is more basic, but no less urgent: to start discussing the question we’ve been avoiding.
In most cases, our existing institutions are doing what they were built to do: respond, protect, advocate. But these are tactical responses to immediate threats. What we need, in parallel, is a strategic conversation about the deeper shifts underway—one that asks not just how to fight antisemitism today, but how to chart the Jewish community’s course through a changing world. I appreciate how difficult a job this is, especially as our leaders and communal organizations juggle a complex set of stakeholders and considerations with limited resources. I therefore want this piece to be read as a contribution to figuring out the solutions, not as a critique of our incumbents’ efforts.
We often look at our Israeli brothers and sisters as the innovators, and view ourselves in the diaspora as the conservatives, which is largely true. But Zionism—a diaspora idea—should remind us that Jews and the diaspora specifically are capable of radical reinvention. Israel is under no illusions as to the internal challenges it is facing, and out of this awareness, several bold and ambitious organizations are emerging, like the One Hundred Initiative (building Israel’s social and political centre), the OR Movement (building new population centres in Israel) and the Israel Strategic Futures Institute (proposing radical changes to Israel’s governance structure). Understanding the nature of the problem is a precondition to building ambitious and fit-for-purpose strategies in response. Israel is articulating its challenges, and the diaspora must follow suit.
In a piece that’s relatively abstract in the world of ideas, I want to end with something more personal. When I think about the future facing my two-year-old daughter, I have little confidence that our current approaches will make her life as a Jew safer or more secure. If we truly care about the security and prosperity of tomorrow’s Jews, we need the courage to challenge sacred cows, rethink our assumptions, and embrace uncomfortable conversations. Discomfort isn’t the problem. It’s the first step toward necessary change.
Daniel, i hope you and family are all well. wow amazing overeview...........................loved. good shabbas and be well.