The American Jewish community built its institutions for a different era. They were designed in the decades following the Holocaust, when Jewish life in the United States was secure, socially integrated, economically advancing, and largely insulated from public hostility and anti-Jewish violence.

The priority was growth and prosperity: assimilating into the broader culture, contributing to society, and expanding Jewish establishments such as schools, synagogues, community centers, and cultural life. We invested heavily in Jewish continuity, education, and Holocaust remembrance, believing that hatred of Jews could be contained through awareness and public campaigns.

But we built for a world that no longer exists. Thinking it can never get as bad as in past generations, we said “Never Again,” and invested heavily in explaining and condemning Jew-hatred, yet far less in building the capacity to withstand it. That gap is now impossible to ignore.

In recent years, Jew-hatred came out of the shadows, becoming a persistent, adaptive force expressed through violence, dehumanization, and persecution. It persists across the alt and isolationist right, the progressive left, and Islamist movements, the latter two forming the Islamo-leftist alliance that converges into mainstream hostility toward Jews, the Jewish state, and the United States of America.

For years, many dismissed concerns about this growing alliance and the hatred of Jews that unites it. The warning signs were visible in academia, mainstream media, social media, politics, and international institutions. But too often, the response was rooted in the belief that education and awareness would be sufficient. It wasn’t.

Today those dynamics are entrenched. On university campuses and in K-12 education, anti-Jewish ideologies are embedded in curricula, normalized in student culture, and reinforced by faculty and leadership. Jewish students are isolated, marginalized, and in some cases violently attacked. Beyond campuses, Jewish businesses are targeted, individuals are attacked on the streets for speaking Hebrew, and hatred of Jews is normalized at scale across digital platforms.

And yet our communal response remains reactive. We issue statements, call for justice, track incidents, correct misinformation, and plead for empathy. These efforts matter, but they are insufficient and yield diminishing results. They rest on the assumption that if we argue well enough, we can reverse the trend. But violent Jew-hatred is not a debate to be won. It is a reality to be prepared for and fought.

To understand why this reactive posture persists, we must be honest about a deeper historical pattern. For nearly 2,000 years, diaspora Jews did not fight persecution. They appealed against it. From the courts of medieval Europe to the pogroms of Eastern Europe to the institutions of the modern West, the default Jewish response was to seek mercy: to petition rulers, appeal to the conscience of majorities, and ask for protection rather than build the power to secure it. This was not weakness. It was the rational response of a people without sovereignty or a state. But that era is over. We have a Jewish state. We have a proven model of Jewish strength. And yet too many in the diaspora still reach for the old tools, the petitions, the statements, the pleas, when the moment demands something entirely different.

In contrast, Israeli Jews have learned through lived experience to operate with a different mindset. They understand that threats are inevitable, that survival depends on preparation, and that others will not protect them. They take responsibility and secure their own future.

Jews in the diaspora, meanwhile, live with a false sense of security. When attacked, rather than being prepared, they ask others for help, hoping that warning non-Jews that hatred of Jews starts with the Jews but never ends with them will convince others to join the fight. It has not worked and it will not be enough. The naive hope that governments and institutions will provide protection creates a dangerous gap between perception and reality, a fragile sense of safety that recent years have repeatedly shattered.

This must change.

If we are serious about securing Jewish life in the diaspora for decades ahead, we must learn from our brothers and sisters in Israel and move from a reactive to a proactive posture across six areas.

First, we must build a strategic partnership with Israel. Israel is not merely a symbol of Jewish pride or a refuge of last resort. It is the world’s most advanced model of Jewish survival, with unmatched expertise in security, intelligence, crisis communication, and community resilience. The diaspora has largely treated Israel as a cause to defend rather than a resource to draw from. That must change. We should be actively learning from Israel’s security culture, civil defense frameworks, and hard-won experience countering both physical and ideological threats, and integrating them into our own institutions. We are one people. It is time we began defending ourselves as such.

Second, we must redefine security. Jewish communities need serious investment in physical and digital protection, including trained personnel, intelligence capabilities, and self-defense training. Preparedness is part of Israel’s culture. It must become part of diaspora Jewish culture.

Third, we must build real crisis infrastructure. Every Jewish institution, and every individual facing harassment, should have access to coordinated networks providing legal, communications, and security support in real time. This must include AI-enabled tools to counter the growing battlefield of information warfare. An AI-powered global Jewish response network should be a communal priority.

Fourth, we must strengthen economic resilience. As Jews increasingly face discrimination in hiring, business, and professional advancement, we must ensure that no one stands alone. That means building job pipelines, funding networks, and community partnerships that allow us to support our own in times of need.

Fifth, we must rethink Jewish education. Our schools, camps, and youth programs must evolve. Alongside identity and tradition, we must teach resilience, confidence, and awareness. Our children must graduate not only knowing who they are but fully prepared for the challenges they will face.

Finally, we must move from proud Jews to strong Jews. Pride is essential, but it is not enough. As Israel has demonstrated time and time again, strength means preparedness, self-reliance, and collective responsibility. It means building a community that is vibrant and durable no matter what the size of the challenge.

We are redefining our identity once again, navigating between past assumptions and future realities.

The future of Jewish life will not be secured by those who make the best arguments.

It will be secured by those who are prepared to defend it, build it, and lead it.

This op-ed was originally published in The Jerusalem Post in partnership with a coalition of organizations that fight antisemitism across the world. 

JISS Policy Papers are published through the generosity of the Greg Rosshandler Family.