The Jewish people have spent thousands of years perfecting the art of asking questions. The modern Jewish community has spent decades perfecting the art of answering them. That may be our problem.
Jewish civilization was built on inquiry. The Talmud is a record of arguments. Our tradition teaches us to challenge assumptions before accepting conclusions. Jewish learning highlights the reasoning skills of answering a question with a question.
Yet when it comes to modern advocacy, we often do the opposite. We explain, justify, defend. Again and again, we accept the role of defendant in debates about Zionism, Israel, antisemitism, Jewish identity. We answer accusations without first examining the assumptions behind them. Despite becoming increasingly sophisticated at providing answers, many Jews feel that we are losing the argument.
Antisemitism is rising across the political spectrum. Anti-Zionism has become normalized in spaces where it was once considered extreme. The same accusations against Jews and Israel are repeated so frequently that they are often accepted as fact, regardless of how many times they have been disproven.
This raises an uncomfortable possibility: What if the biggest mistake in Jewish advocacy is not what we say, but what we agree to discuss?
Over the years, I have engaged in conversations in television news studios, policy forums, university classrooms, diplomatic meetings, legislative offices, community events and the infinite public square of social media. Whether speaking with elected officials, journalists, students, activists or everyday citizens, I have noticed the same pattern emerge.
The facts change. The headlines change. The platforms change. But the assumptions rarely do.
Jewish advocacy has become extraordinarily skilled at defending conclusions and insufficiently skilled at challenging premises. Discussions involving Jews, Zionism, Israel and antisemitism often begin with assumptions that would never be applied to almost any other people, movement or nation. Yet, Jewish advocates routinely accept those assumptions and immediately begin defending themselves within a framework established by their critics.
This Jewish instinct comes from a sincere desire to educate, persuade and correct misinformation. But it also places us at a strategic disadvantage. Once we accept a flawed premise, we often spend the remainder of the conversation debating inside someone else’s framework rather than challenging the framework itself.
Good lawyers understand that the most important part of a trial is often not the answer but the question. Good journalists understand that framing shapes public perception before a single fact is introduced. Good negotiators understand that whoever defines the terms of a discussion often determines the outcome. Yet many Jewish advocates continue accepting questions that should themselves be challenged.
Facts matter, but facts are rarely the battlefield. Narratives are.
Since Oct. 7, I have repeatedly encountered this dynamic in media interviews, public forums, classrooms and online discussions.
For example, a common question is: “Do Palestinians deserve a state?” The question sounds reasonable. Yet it is often posed without asking whether Jews deserve one.
The issue is not whether Palestinian statehood should be discussed. It should be discussed, and it is discussed. The issue is why the right to Jewish statehood is frequently treated as conditional, while the right to Palestinian statehood is treated as presumed.
Another common question is: “Can Israel justify its military response to attacks?”
Certainly, democracies should be questioned. Military actions should be scrutinized. But why does the conversation so often begin with Israel’s response rather than, say, Hamas’s strategy of embedding military infrastructure among civilians, using human shields and deliberately turning civilian suffering into a military and propaganda asset?
Why is one side’s conduct examined in microscopic detail while the other’s foundational behavior is treated as context? The issue is not accountability. The issue is selective accountability.
Then there is perhaps the most revealing question of all: “Why do Jews keep talking about antisemitism?”
Imagine asking black Americans why they continue discussing racism. Imagine asking women why they continue discussing sexism. Imagine asking LGBT people why they continue discussing discrimination.
Yet Jews are routinely expected not only to prove antisemitism exists, but to justify discussing it at all. The question itself reveals the assumption.
Consider one of the most common questions asked about Israel: “Does Israel have a right to exist?”
At first glance, it appears legitimate, at least to the person who feels performatively righteous in asking it. But nobody asks whether France has a right to exist. Nobody asks whether Egypt, Japan, Jordan or Pakistan has a right to exist. The existence of nation-states is generally treated as a political reality. Yet the world’s only Jewish state is routinely expected to defend its legitimacy.
Progress emerges through discussion. Wisdom emerges through disagreement. Strong ideas emerge through challenge.
The most important question is why Jewish self-determination is so often treated as uniquely conditional.
Perhaps the clearest example involves Zionism itself. For years, Jewish advocates have been asked some version of the same question: “How do you defend Zionism?”
Imagine asking an Indian patriot to defend India’s existence. Imagine asking a Greek patriot to defend Greece’s existence. Imagine asking a Turkish citizen to defend Turkey’s existence. Imagine asking a Japanese citizen to defend Japan’s existence. Most people would immediately recognize the absurdity of such questions. Yet when the subject is Jewish self-determination, the burden of proof suddenly shifts.
The problem is not the answer to these questions. The problem is accepting the premise that Jewish national aspirations require a defense that other national aspirations do not.
For years, Jewish advocates have argued that Israel is subjected to a double standard. There is truth in this. Increasingly, however, I believe even that description falls short.
A double standard involves two standards. What we often encounter is something closer to a single standard: Israel is expected to meet moral, political and military requirements not demanded of any other nation. Jews are expected to demonstrate levels of perfection, restraint and justification that would be considered unreasonable for anyone else. The expectation is not merely higher; it is singular.
But identifying hypocrisy is not enough. One of the most valuable lessons I have learned through media engagement, political advocacy and public diplomacy is that people are rarely persuaded by information alone. If information alone changed minds, many of today’s debates would already be settled.
Facts matter, but facts are rarely the battlefield. Narratives are. Assumptions are. Moral frameworks are.
People interpret facts through identities, values and preexisting beliefs. The question is not simply what people know. The question is how they have been taught to think about what they know.
Too often, Jewish advocacy resembles a perpetual fact-checking exercise. An accusation emerges, and we respond. A false claim spreads, and we correct it. A distortion appears, and we provide context.
These efforts remain necessary. But a community that only reacts eventually finds itself trapped in an endless cycle of response. It is always chasing the next accusation instead of shaping the conversation itself. The most effective advocates do not merely answer questions. They influence which questions are asked.
This pattern appears constantly in public discourse. When Jewish students report harassment on campus, the conversation often shifts toward whether they are exaggerating. When synagogues increase security, discussions frequently focus on whether the threat is being overstated. When Jews express concern about antisemitism, they are asked whether they are being too sensitive. When Israel defends itself, debates quickly move towards whether its response is excessive.
Notice what happens as a result: The burden repeatedly shifts back to the Jews, not merely to respond to events, but to justify responding to events. Communities should not have to defend their right to defend themselves.
Too often, Jewish advocacy resembles a perpetual fact-checking exercise.
In many ways, the solution is deeply rooted in Jewish tradition. Judaism is not a civilization built upon slogans; it is a civilization built upon inquiry. The goal is not to avoid difficult conversations but to have better ones. The goal is not to dismiss criticism but to ensure that criticism itself can withstand scrutiny. The goal is not to silence disagreement but to elevate it.
This lesson applies not only to our critics but also to ourselves. Too often, advocacy discussions within the Jewish community become exercises in repeating familiar talking points. We become comfortable reciting answers rather than refining arguments. We sometimes mistake consensus for effectiveness.
Jewish history offers a different model: Progress emerges through discussion. Wisdom emerges through disagreement. Strong ideas emerge through challenge.
A community that stops questioning becomes stagnant. A community that stops debating becomes fragile. A community that stops learning becomes vulnerable. If we want stronger advocacy, we need more intellectual rigor, not less. More debate, not less. More confidence in our ability to challenge assumptions rather than merely respond to them.
Perhaps the most un-Jewish thing we can do is assume we already have all the answers. The Jewish tradition did not survive because it produced perfect answers. It survived because it produced generations of people willing to challenge assumptions, question authority and think independently. In an age increasingly dominated by slogans, outrage and ideological certainty, that tradition may be one of the Jewish people’s greatest strategic advantages.
The future of Jewish advocacy will not be determined by who can recite the most facts or repeat the most talking points. It will belong to those who are confident enough to challenge the premise, change the frame and elevate the conversation.
For too long, Jews have been trained to answer accusations. It is time to rediscover something much older and much more powerful. Not better answers, but better questions.
