Israel’s attacks on Iran’s nuclear and missile facilities and military leadership will reignite not only international debate but also an internal reckoning within American Jewry.
To understand how these events may shape the Jewish American view of Israel, we must look back: to the lightning-fast Six-Day War in 1967, the daring destruction of Iraq’s Osirak reactor in 1981 and similar strikes in Syria in 2007. Each of these actions, controversial on the world stage, deeply influenced how American Jews saw Israel—and themselves.
In June 1967, Israel’s preemptive strike against the Egyptian air force and its rapid victories over neighboring armies sent shockwaves through the Jewish world. The New York Times ran a three-line headline across all seven columns of the front page.
In the United States, a Diaspora community long accustomed to marginalization, assimilation and caution suddenly stood a little taller. Israel’s success gave many American Jews a sense of pride and power. Synagogues filled, donations poured in, and Jewish identity—so often tied to Holocaust memory—began to include strength and resilience. Israel was no longer just the underdog, but a symbol of Jewish survival on its own terms. Israel seemed to be saying: “Threaten us annihilation, we’ll take you seriously and do what we have to do.”
Fast-forward to 1981: the strike on Iraq’s Osirak nuclear reactor.
Then-Prime Minister Menachem Begin ordered the mission out of fear that Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein was on the path to building a nuclear weapon capable of annihilating Israel. The world condemned it, especially the United States, where the Reagan administration called the move “reckless.” Yet within months, as the strategic wisdom became clearer, the anger cooled. Many American Jews, initially torn between loyalty to U.S. foreign policy and concern for Israel’s survival, ultimately rallied behind the operation. It became another chapter in the narrative of a nation willing to act decisively to protect itself, even if it stood alone.
In 2007, a similar pattern emerged after Israel bombed a clandestine Syrian reactor. Again, official silence masked unofficial awe. American Jews, while less vocal than in 1967 or 1981, felt reassured: Israel remained vigilant, capable and unafraid.
Now, in 2025, with Iran closer than ever to nuclear breakout capability, Israel has once again struck. This time, however, the context is vastly different. The American Jewish community is no longer monolithic. It spans the political and ideological spectrum—from proud Zionists to vocal critics. Antisemitism has spiked in the United States, particularly in the wake of the Hamas-led terrorist attacks in Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, and the subsequent Gaza war. College campuses, corporate boardrooms and cultural institutions have become battlegrounds over Israel and Jewish identity.
In this fractured environment, Israel’s attack on Iranian nuclear facilities will polarize American Jews.
For many who remember 1967 and 1981, the strike will reaffirm their belief in Israel as the ultimate safeguard of Jewish survival. To them, the operation is a necessary evil in a world that has shown, repeatedly, that the Jewish people must rely on themselves. Iran’s repeated calls for Israel’s destruction and its support for terror proxies leave no room for naïveté. Israel’s message is clear: Never again means never again.
But for others, particularly younger American Jews shaped by liberal ideals and wary of militarism, the strike may deepen a sense of alienation. They will ask whether diplomacy was exhausted, whether civilian lives were endangered, and whether this feeds a cycle of violence (whatever that means). Some will view the operation not as gutsy, but as provocative—a step that could destabilize the region and invite retaliation. To those who believe this, Israel’s actions may seem to undermine the values that they believe Judaism stands for: justice, compassion and peace.
Still, for all the disagreement, the attack may also prompt a reckoning. Those American Jews who have grown distant from Israel may now confront uncomfortable questions: What if Israel hadn’t acted? What if Tehran had reached nuclear capability? Is Israel still the guarantor of Jewish safety—not just in the Middle East, but globally?
History suggests that when Israel takes bold action in the face of existential threats, American Jews may react with initial anxiety, but eventually move toward understanding and, often, admiration. The Osirak precedent looms large: that which is condemned today may be vindicated tomorrow.
In the end, Israel’s attack on Iran is more than a military operation; it is a test of identity for American Jewry. Whether it unites or divides, it will surely compel reflection on what it means to be Jewish in an age when Israel’s actions echo across the globe—and into the hearts of Jews everywhere.
Today, we can repeat and pray for that which King David said 3,000 years ago: May God give strength to his people and bless his people with peace.