At a time when American democracy faces real threats, many mainstream Jewish leaders are struggling to find public footing. Some leaders have spoken out, and some institutions and denominations have joined together on statements condemning violence, cruelty, and impunity in immigration enforcement, for example.
But on this issue, and on several others that have arisen in recent years - aggressive gerrymandering, threats to voting rights, the dismantling of the federal bureaucracy, retributive investigations against political enemies, and the erosion of democratic norms - most Jewish establishment organizations have remained silent.
This unevenness is striking, given the Jewish people’s historical allergy to authoritarianism and how essential healthy democracy has been to the success and thriving of the American Jewish community. So what’s going on?
Several factors have converged to produce this hesitation.
First, there’s fear. Jewish leaders carry a heavy responsibility: We feel a powerful obligation to keep our Jewish communities safe and united. Speaking out on politically charged issues in a divided America risks highlighting internal divisions, alienating long-time partners, and drawing government retaliation.
Second, some leaders are defining Jewish interests narrowly, insisting that the collective Jewish agenda is limited to defending Israel against threats and fighting discrimination that specifically targets Jews (and separating the defense of Jews from broader concerns about civil rights and the vulnerability of other minority groups). Those leaders either do not believe that liberal democracy keeps Jews safe, or they do not feel that they can divert resources from their parochial interests into a concern for the broader body politic, or they feel that the responsibility for attending to these broader challenges belongs elsewhere.
Third, in our post-October 7 context, antisemitism is real and rising, and debates around Israel are raw. Many of the activists leading the fight against authoritarianism are also openly anti-Zionist, making them difficult partners for mainstream Jewish organizations, creating real tension and impeding coalition-building.
A colleague in Minneapolis described this challenge vividly: When asked about the Jewish communal response to aggressive immigration raids, she said, “The biggest names doing this work locally are strongly anti-Israel and anti-us [Jews]. You can find groups to work with, but vetting them through a Jewish lens and coming up with anything meaningful is basically impossible.”
Her words capture the tension: some Jewish leaders want to act, but find their likely bedfellows intolerable. Moreover, some of them will also conclude that the advocacy that these organizations are pursuing on behalf of their vision for America is inherently wrong. Partisanship forces us to choose sides, and it is an easy shortcut to join the side that makes you feel more comfortable - even if you have to sacrifice some of your commitments.
Political leaders attacking democracy leads to defense appearing partisan
One of the biggest challenges is a rhetorical trap: When political leaders attack democratic norms, defending those norms can appear partisan.
For instance, until 2016, there was near unanimity that conceding lost elections and supporting a peaceful transfer of power was just the normal functioning of our healthy democracy. Then-candidate Donald Trump began suggesting that elections might be stolen, and hedged about whether he would accept the outcome. When people pushed back against his assertions, he and his allies began characterizing that push back as partisan opportunism. Suddenly, defending a basic norm was labeled as a partisan position. In the intervening decade, trust in elections and committing to respect the results have become increasingly aligned with partisan affiliation.
The same pattern repeats everywhere: defending the free press, due process, rule of law, basic decency. Each time leaders speak up to defend these once-nonpartisan norms, they risk being called partisan and losing their credibility.
Or, in a particularly sensitive example for the Jewish community, the Administration pursued aggressive and in many cases unconstitutional tactics against universities, and cited the fight against antisemitism as one of their reasons (or pretenses). This put some Jewish organizations in the position of defending these tactics because they liked the ends, and curtailed their ability (or willingness) to criticize them because of their problematic means.
The trap works beautifully: attack democratic norms, then delegitimize anyone who defends them. Organizations that built their reputations on being nonpartisan now feel paralyzed.
We believe that this silence and paralysis does not serve our community. Even if Jews are not the immediate target, a society that abandons pluralism, fairness, and constitutional protections is one that eventually becomes hostile to Jews – and to everyone who depends on these norms for safety and stability. Understanding this reality doesn’t make action simple, but it clarifies why staying silent carries risks and consequences beyond the present moment.
In the face of these challenges, there are concrete steps that Jewish leaders can and should take to protect and strengthen American democracy, as an expression of both American Jewish interests and values.
First, we need to get comfortable speaking publicly about why a healthy American democracy is an American Jewish interest, and how democratic norms align with Jewish values. The American Jewish community has made one of its pillars standing with Israel as a Jewish and democratic state; why do we not insist on making a commitment to democracy essential to what it means to be an American Jew? This requires us to get serious in our education systems, our public messaging, and our communal discourse about what is at stake for American Jews and our values when democracy is under attack.
Second, we can engage in uncomfortable partnerships. This is not easy; navigating tensions around antisemitism, Israel, and other ideological differences is fraught. But no version of authoritarianism ends well for anyone. Beginning with this fundamental agreement can guide intentional engagement, and help preserve a nation where people of wildly different views can exist side by side. Jewish leaders regularly tolerate ideological disagreement with allies who support Israel and the fight against antisemitism; they can do the same in the fight for our democracy here.
And third, we can push back on the idea that defending democracy is a partisan stance. This means making the case – in the Jewish press, in Jewish conference plenaries – that norms like free elections, due process, and rule of law matter, specifically for Jews, because they preserve the democratic order that has enabled Jews to survive and thrive in this country. It doesn’t require aggressive confrontation – just the courage of our convictions. Being accused of partisanship doesn’t make you partisan; backing away from your principles because someone thinks you are partisan might.
These are not dramatic stands or extraordinary acts of courage. They are small choices. But democracy erodes slowly, too. Each transgression may feel manageable, or reasonable in isolation – but cumulatively, they chip away at the institutions and norms that keep a free society intact. When these small concessions accumulate, there’s a risk that we won’t notice the water is boiling before it’s too late. When authoritarianism consolidates, everyone is under threat – especially Jews.
Above all, democracy is a practice, and we Jews should understand – given the importance of consistent, ritualized daily practices to our tradition – what it takes to commit to persistent, sustained action. This moment demands small habits and steps to preserve and strengthen democracy. To speak up about violations, even when it’s risky. To build partnerships across difference, even when it’s uncomfortable. To connect our community’s fate to others, even when it’s dangerous. To reiterate shared principles, even when it’s hard.
Each of these separate practices are reasonable and manageable. And over time, these careful, incremental acts add up – to sustain a pluralistic, just, and thriving democracy for all of us, Jews included.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of JTA or its parent company, 70 Faces Media.