Two years after October 7, Jewish groups grapple with identity crisis and generational divide

Two and a half years after October 7, the Jewish organizational landscape looks fundamentally different. But the transformation isn’t just about increased activity or emergency mobilization – it’s about something more profound and potentially permanent: mission drift.

Across the Diaspora, Jewish institutions are grappling with a question that will define the next generation’s relationship to organized Jewish life: Who are we actually for, and what are we really about?

But emergency mode has now stretched beyond two years, and what began as a temporary pivot is hardening into something else entirely. The federations are transitioning from their emergency campaign to a new “Rebuild Israel” framework – signaling not a return to previous priorities but a sustained reorientation toward Israel-focused work.

The implications ripple far beyond fundraising numbers. Organizations that once dedicated themselves to combating poverty in Jewish communities, supporting mental health services, or fighting bigotry in all its forms have found their missions quietly evolving. And this evolution is creating fractures that may prove impossible to repair.

Organizations that were once specialized and focused, with years of expertise in a specific sphere, are now working in new areas where they are not necessarily the experts.

Mission drift doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It follows the money.

Israeli NGOs working on overseas humanitarian aid and development projects reported significant funding losses after October 7. Twenty-seven out of 70 such organizations lost support, with 22 reporting a combined $2 million in lost income between October 2023 and June 2024. The reason was straightforward: Philanthropic priorities had shifted almost entirely toward Israel-focused emergency responses.

This creates a perverse incentive structure. Organizations that pivot toward Israel-focused work survive – and even thrive – financially. Those that maintain their original focus on other populations or issues face existential funding crises. The result is predictable: Even organizations whose missions have little to do with Israel find themselves reorienting programs to capture available resources.

The “long tail” approach of creating many small, niche initiatives may feel innovative, but it weakens the foundations of strong Jewish communal life.

Young Jews are watching this transformation with alarm – and are responding by building alternate institutions.

This isn’t simply growth in progressive organizing. It represents young Jews creating parallel institutional structures because they believe mainstream organizations have drifted from their missions – abandoning commitments to fighting all forms of injustice in favor of a narrower focus on Israel advocacy and Jewish-specific concerns.

The divide is striking: Traditional institutions move decisively in one direction, while an entire generation builds different organizations moving in another. This suggests not a temporary, crisis-driven split but a lasting fracture in the Jewish ecosystem.

The immediate question is financial. Can organizations sustain their new Israel-focused work? What we are witnessing appears to be an attempt to institutionalize what began as crisis response.

But the deeper question is philosophical: Should Jewish organizations be particularist or universalist? Should an organization founded to fight bigotry focus primarily on antisemitism and Israel advocacy, or maintain its broader civil-rights mandate? Should social service agencies concentrate resources on Israel-related trauma and security, or continue serving diverse populations with varied needs?

Should an organization like mine, which developed deep expertise in trauma care through 45 years of caring for children removed from their homes due to risk or abuse, expand its work to treat all children who face trauma?

These aren’t abstract questions. They determine which populations get served, which causes get funded, and, ultimately, what kind of Jewish community emerges from this period.

When organizations drift from their missions, something important is lost beyond the original programming. There is a loss of trust – particularly among those who supported organizations based on their stated values and scope of work.

There is also a loss of expertise and credibility. Organizations built over decades to address specific issues – domestic poverty, civil rights, mental health – risk becoming less effective as they redirect resources toward areas outside their core competencies.

And perhaps most significantly for the next generation, there is a loss of the universalist strand of Jewish social teaching that motivated many of these organizations at their founding. The tradition of tikkun olam – “repairing the world” – risks being narrowed to repairing Israel.

Jewish organizations face a genuine dilemma. October 7 represented a profound crisis that demanded response. The ongoing war and rising antisemitism continue to require attention and resources. No one can fault organizations for responding to urgent community needs.

But more than two years in, these institutions must grapple with hard questions: Have we temporarily pivoted or permanently transformed? Are we making strategic decisions, or are we being captured by donor preferences? Most importantly: Will the next generation recognize the organizations we’re becoming – or have we drifted too far from our founding missions for them to feel at home?

The answers will determine not just which organizations survive but what kind of Jewish communal life awaits the next generation in the shadow of October 7 – and what their relationship with Israel will ultimately be.■