Jewish Americans and supporters of Israel gather at the National Mall in Washington, DC on Nov. 14, 2023 for the “March for Israel” rally. Photo: Dion J. Pierre/The Algemeiner

American Jews are facing a storm of external pressures. The past two years have brought a surge in antisemitism; ugly and sometimes violent protests on campuses; hostile city streets; and, abroad, the horrifying October 7 Hamas attack and the brief but intense Iran–Israel war.

For most observers, it would seem obvious that these external threats are the greatest source of stress for Jewish communal leaders and professionals.

After all, these are the people tasked with defending, educating, and sustaining Jewish life in turbulent times. But a striking new report tells a different story — one that should give the Jewish community, and anyone who cares about civic health, pause.

The Hope Study, released this month by M²: The Institute for Experiential Jewish Education, surveyed nearly 950 Jewish professionals across North America and flips traditional thinking on its head.

The report’s findings are sobering. Fewer than one in four respondents reported that they “often” feel hopeful about the future of the Jewish people (24%), a stark contrast with 82% in the general US population.

For the very individuals whose mission is to build that future and who work on the front lines of the Jewish communal world, hope is now the exception rather than the norm.

The most surprising result, however, is what these professionals say is sapping their hope. It isn’t antisemitism. It isn’t the war in Gaza. It isn’t rising security costs or declining synagogue membership.

The single most cited factor is internal communal division — the tensions, mistrust, and open conflict that have erupted within Jewish organizations themselves. As one respondent put it, we are “watching our community tear itself apart.”

This revelation fundamentally upends the common narrative.

For decades, Jewish life in America has been organized around the assumption that our gravest challenges come from outside forces: hostile governments, terrorist groups, bigots, or indifferent neighbors. The classic response has been to mobilize against those external enemies, rallying Jews of all backgrounds in a show of unity. But The Hope Study suggests that this framework no longer matches reality. The greater danger today may lie within our own splintered community.

A Fracture Beneath the Surface

The divides are most visible around Israel. The data show just how deep that fissure runs. A slim majority of Jewish communal professionals (55%) see their connection to Israel as a vital source of hope and meaning, but more than a quarter (26%) say Israel is not important to them at all — the highest rejection rate for any source of hope measured.

That rejection rate is staggering; it means that even within the ranks of Jewish institutions, there is no consensus on whether Israel matters. In staff meetings, classrooms, and boardrooms, this divide lurks beneath every conversation about programming or public messaging.

These tensions extend beyond geopolitics. Generational differences, ideological disputes, and conflicting visions of Jewish identity all play a role. Professionals describe being “caught between competing factions” and “unable to navigate constituency expectations.” This is not just about policy disagreements. It is about who gets to define what Jewish communal life is and whom it serves.

Leadership is supposed to guide communities through such conflicts, but here too the findings are troubling. Executives report higher levels of hope than staff (mean 2.94 vs. 2.77 on a 1–5 scale), a gap that creates a potential leadership blind spot. Many leaders simply don’t see how dire things feel to those on the ground. It is hard to solve a problem you don’t fully perceive.

The consequences are real. When staff feel unsupported or unheard, they burn out, withdraw, or leave the field entirely.

Roughly 10% of respondents fall into what the report calls the “Struggling” category — low hope, low energy, and little sense of connection — with a large share identifying as secular/cultural Jews. If they disappear, the community loses not only workers but perspectives that broaden and enrich Jewish life.

The gender gap is especially striking. Women comprise 78% of the sample and report significantly lower hope than men (mean 2.75 vs. 3.01). This suggests that women may be bearing the brunt of organizational problems and the emotional labor of managing conflict. Any honest reckoning must take this imbalance seriously.

Why This Matters Beyond the Jewish World

It would be easy to dismiss these findings as an internal HR problem, a narrow crisis of a single faith community. That would be a mistake. The dynamics revealed here mirror the challenges facing American civic life more broadly.

Across the country — in churches and schools, political parties and neighborhood associations — polarization has grown so intense that external threats now often feel less destabilizing than internal mistrust.

Sociologist Émile Durkheim warned more than a century ago that societies depend on shared moral bonds; what he called the “collective conscience.” When those bonds weaken, even well-intentioned groups can splinter into factions. The result is exactly what this survey documents: bitterness, exhaustion, and the slow erosion of purpose.

For the Jewish community, this erosion is particularly dangerous. Historically, Jewish organizations have been exemplars of civic engagement. Federations, synagogues, day schools, and service groups have taught generations how to work together across differences, how to give and receive mutual aid, and how to participate in democratic life. If those very institutions now falter, the ripple effects will be felt far beyond the Jewish world.

The broader American story is similar. When our institutions become arenas for infighting rather than vehicles for collective action, we lose the very mechanisms that allow us to face external challenges together. Whether it’s antisemitism, terrorism, or the fraying of our social fabric, no group can respond effectively when it is paralyzed by internal distrust.

A Call to Confront the Real Threat

In moments of crisis, it is natural to fix our gaze outward. And there is no question that the external threats facing the Jewish people are real and relentless. Rising antisemitism, hostile campuses, violent protests, and geopolitical dangers demand vigilance and strong, decisive action.

But The Hope Study makes clear that these external dangers are only half the story and perhaps not even the most urgent half. A community that cannot govern and organize itself cannot defend itself. Ignoring the fractures within Jewish communal life will not make them fade. If anything, outside pressures will magnify them, turning every external attack into another round of internal recriminations.

History shows us what happens when institutions become brittle. Communities that lack internal trust crack under stress. They grow weak, reactive, and paralyzed. The rifts revealed in this report are not mere personality conflicts or abstract debates; they are corrosive forces eating away at the very foundations of Jewish civic and religious life.

Repair will not come through platitudes or surface-level fixes. It will require courage from leaders and from the rank and file alike. Leaders must be willing to see clearly and speak plainly, to set real boundaries and articulate shared ideals. They must foster spaces where hard truths can be spoken openly, not suppressed. Belonging must be rebuilt not as a marketing slogan or membership drive, but as a lived experience of mutual responsibility and solidarity.

Jewish history offers countless examples of resilience in the face of external enemies. The challenge today is to summon that same resolve inward. If Jewish organizations cannot restore their own internal cohesion, they will be poorly equipped to defend against external hatred and even their strongest outward defenses will ultimately ring hollow. This is why so many Jewish students on college and university campuses have felt abandoned and alone since October 7.

The choice is stark. Either we confront the true threat — the one within — or we allow our institutions to fracture beyond repair. The future of Jewish communal life, and by extension the strength of our shared civic life, depends on which path we choose. The time for evasions has passed. The time to act is now.

Samuel J. Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.