When folks ask us these days how to explain the current tensions in U.S.-Israeli relations, we’re hard-pressed to come up with a simple answer. Have we been here before? Is there a precedent for pausing or suspending U.S. military assistance? And are we on the cusp of some inflection point in the relationship that presages fundamental changes?
We’ve watched more than a few ups and downs in the U.S.-Israeli relationship over the years. Even in the wake of serious tensions in the past, continuity rather than change always seemed to prevail. Over time, tensions abated, and things more or less returned to the normal courtesy of what we called the traditional U.S.-Israeli “operating system.” In the United States, this was driven by the president’s persona (anywhere from mildly to staunchly pro-Israel); domestic politics (strongly reflecting and reinforcing those sympathies); and the administration’s policies (requiring more often than not cooperation rather than confrontation with Israel to manage regional challenges).
These days, however, we sense something of a change. And we are unsure whether it is a bump in the road or a transformation, an inflection point. We’re wary of drawing major conclusions from the current situation. Indeed, in general, the idea of inflection points can be overdrawn: COVID-19 was supposed to transform our world; Russia’s invasion of Ukraine was said to have fundamentally and irrevocably altered international politics; and Oct. 7 has been seen by some as somehow transforming Middle Eastern politics. But headlines don’t always translate into trend lines. And an event that is seen to be transformational doesn’t always produce transformations.
To be sure, the current tensions between Israel and the Biden administration are taking place in unprecedented circumstances. But they are also potentially transitory. On the one hand, the traditional operating system that has kept the U.S.-Israeli relationship free of sustained breaches or fractures has been at work since Oct. 7. Without exception, U.S. President Joe Biden has been more supportive of Israel and Israeli war aims than any other president in U.S. history. The administration has provided upwards of $14 billion in emergency assistance; pulled together a regional air defense network that proved itself when Iran attacked Israel with more than 350 drones, cruise, and ballistic missiles; and another $1 billion in military aid is in train. Policy and strategic coordination have been intense, and Biden and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu have spoken on a regular basis to try to minimize the chances of a public breach and to keep relations on track. In maintaining this degree of support for Israel, Biden has sustained political pushback at home, including from within his own party, but he has not flinched, even at the potential cost of losing votes in November’s presidential election.
On the other hand, there are forces in play that raise serious questions about the U.S.-Israeli relationship going forward. That relationship has rested on three critical pillars that are inextricably linked: shared values, common interests, and a strong base of domestic support. Today, each of those pillars is under more stress than perhaps at any other time in the history of the relationship.
First, the administration and most Americans do not share values with the most extreme, right-wing government in Israel’s history. Even before Oct. 7, the Netanyahu government pursued policies antithetical to U.S. values and interests—in particular, a judicial overhaul proposal seen as an effort to severely curb the authority of the Israeli judiciary, especially its Supreme Court. The coalition’s ambitions appeared to undermine Israel’s commitment to democracy.
At the same time, Netanyahu gave wide powers to two extremist ministers who were self-styled racists and Jewish supremacists. They openly proclaimed their intention to advance annexationist policies in the West Bank and to force Palestinians to choose acquiescence to second-class political life, exile, or conflict. This effort was blessed by a prime minister on trial for bribery, fraud, and breach of trust who needed to cater to the extremists in order to stay in power.
Second, over the past several decades, the U.S. political landscape has been changing as well. Bipartisan support for Israel is still strong, but Republicans and Democrats are more divided than ever on what kind of Israel they should be supporting. The Republican Party by and large has become the Israel-can-do-no-wrong party. Donald Trump and the party that has come under his sway have intensified their bond with a willing Netanyahu and his right-wing government. Democrats are increasingly divided, with a small but growing number of progressives who want to impose constraints and costs on the Netanyahu government for its treatment of Palestinians. A decade ago, it would have been unimaginable for Sens. Chris Murphy, Chris Coons, and Chris Van Hollen to publicly press that course. Not so today. And in an extraordinary speech in March, Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer, Israel’s foremost supporter in Congress, all but called for new elections and a new government. Like so many issues in U.S. politics, Israel has become a divisive issue, leading the Biden administration to walk a narrow line between Republicans who want unconditional support for Israel and many Democrats who are pressing for some conditionality on aid.
Third, unlike any previous Arab-Israeli war—and counterintuitively—the unique character of the Israel-Hamas war has deepened the domestic divide. It’s as though protesters have forgotten Hamas’s murderous attack on Israel, its sexual aggression, and its taking of hostages, most of whom are civilians. Instead, the protesters are focusing only on Israel’s response. For the Biden administration, this has been problematic, for it supports the idea of degrading Hamas to a point where it cannot repeat Oct. 7 and cannot resume governing the Gaza Strip but it opposes strongly Israel’s strategy and tactics that have caused the deaths of thousands of Palestinian civilians and the destruction of much of Gaza’s infrastructure. The result has been a humanitarian nightmare—which Israel should have anticipated and dealt with but which has been met by Israel with slow, ineffective responses. Seven months on, that humanitarian crisis has only deepened: The displacement of the vast majority of Gaza’s 2.3 million people has left them without access to adequate shelter, water, food, and medical care.
Three issues have divided Israel and the Biden administration as a result of Israeli policies and actions: how to conduct a military campaign that minimizes civilian casualties; how to ensure that enough assistance is delivered to prevent a humanitarian disaster; and what happens on the day after the fighting winds down. Israel has provided an inadequate response to the administration’s request for plans. Indeed, Netanyahu has doubled down on his opposition to any realistic plan for Rafah—or Gaza overall—prompting his own defense minister and some within the Israeli army to speak out against the government’s policy drift.
More than likely, the U.S.-Israeli operating system will find a way to manage or muddle through these issues—especially in an election year—without a sustained break or fracture in the relationship. But what are the trend lines? To what extent has Israel’s image and brand been fundamentally damaged, both in the United States and internationally, as a result of the way it has prosecuted the war with Hamas? Will the values affinity—the real adhesive that binds the two countries together—endure? Can the now-battered perception of shared values survive the rightward drift in Israeli politics, Israel’s 57-year occupation of the West Bank and East Jerusalem, and the disaffection of many of Israel’s 2 million Palestinian citizens who live in a preferential democracy that doesn’t accord them the same treatment as Jewish citizens? Will the political environment in the United States evolve to the point where an increasing number of younger Americans question whether Israel is more of a burden, than a benefit, for U.S. interests?
Questions without good answers. And there’s no way to predict with any certainty or precision the trajectory of U.S.-Israeli relations. No single element can possibly be determinative, but one thing seems pretty clear: A change of leadership in Israel would be a good place to start. Israelis need to stop believing that they can have the peace and security they deserve without facing up to the implications of the occupation, and Palestinians need to stop believing that inflicting pain on Israel will somehow achieve the self-determination and independence they deserve. Whether the trauma and pain of Oct. 7 and the seemingly endless Israel-Hamas war will bring them any closer to these realizations remains to be seen.