This is a time of change. In elections across British Columbia, voters turfed incumbents and elevated newcomers in numbers that signalled a hunger for something different.
Americans followed suit. In midterm elections that delivered Democratic victories on a scale almost nobody anticipated, voters decisively rejected the status quo, handing Democrats control of both houses of Congress and many state houses.
Israel’s election was less definitive. Binyamin Netanyahu’s coalition emerged without the seats necessary to govern, while opposition parties and Arab voters demonstrated renewed political strength.
Three countries, three different political landscapes, one unmistakable message: previous arrangements can no longer be taken for granted.
For Jewish communities, two developments beyond the ballot box may be even more consequential.
First, the American Israel Public Affairs Committee announced that it would cease formally endorsing political candidates and making direct campaign contributions.
AIPAC will continue lobbying, organizing donors and operating its super PAC, which can spend substantial sums independently to influence elections. Indeed, for most of its history, AIPAC neither endorsed candidates nor donated directly to campaigns, so this is not a revolutionary reappraisal of their role. Nevertheless, the retreat from these activities reflects an uncomfortable reality. In parts of American politics, association with AIPAC has become a liability.
Then came Donald Trump’s announcement – on midterm election day – that the United States would end its approximately $3.8 billion in annual military assistance to Israel after 2026. He said the decision had been agreed upon with Netanyahu and argued that Israel was wealthy enough to purchase its own weapons. He also acknowledged that American aid to Israel had become a political vulnerability for Republicans.
These statements are evidence of a significant shift from the conventional wisdom on Israel, a changing tide that has infiltrated both political parties and the US public’s outlook on foreign involvement. For generations, support for Israel was among the rare issues enjoying substantial bipartisan consensus in Washington. Politicians might disagree over settlements, Palestinian statehood or individual Israeli governments, but the underlying American commitment to Israel’s security was broadly accepted. Now, a Republican president is openly acknowledging that supporting Israel costs political capital.
The financial consequences of Trump’s announcement would be considerable. Israel is deeply integrated into American defence procurement, intelligence and military cooperation, so Trump’s intention may face pushback from the US military establishment, as well as from American manufacturers who benefit from the spending, which is almost all spent in the United States.
Of course, Israel is no longer the poor cousin pleading for funds. It has a healthy economy and, while the loss of billions of dollars would take a heavy toll, it would not be an existential loss. The symbolism may matter more than the money.
It would be a mistake, however, to interpret these changes as a catastrophe.
There is a potentially liberating dimension to the end of American military grants. Israel has long had to balance its security requirements against the political conditions, expectations and pressures accompanying American assistance. Military aid is political leverage.
Greater financial independence would create greater strategic independence. Israel would still need American weapons, technology and cooperation, but purchasing these rather than receiving them through grants could change the relationship into something resembling a more conventional partnership between sovereign allies. It would also, it should be noted, neutralize a major campaign tactic for the anti-Israel crowd.
There is a broader lesson in these weeks of political upheaval.
Institutions that once seemed permanent are not. Political allegiances are not hereditary. Voters do not owe incumbents their jobs, and governments cannot assume yesterday’s loyalties will endure indefinitely. This uncertainty is unsettling, especially for Jewish communities already confronting unprecedented challenges. Yet the alternative – a world in which failed approaches persist indefinitely simply because they are familiar – is hardly reassuring.
Change creates risks. It also creates opportunities. The old consensus was never self-sustaining. Neither will the next one be. We know our community will not be spectators in what comes next. We will keep working towards a future we know is possible.
