By David Magerman, JNS
Jewish communities around the world are fixated on battling antisemitism. The best defense may simply be to stop being defensive.
In many ways, Israel has never been stronger, winning military victories over enemies and creating new friends through economic partnerships. Internally, while there are still societal divisions, the Israeli public is largely united around the mission of eradicating the threat of Hamas and other terrorists from inside and outside Israel’s borders.
At the same time, Jewish communities around the world have been convinced by mainstream media that Israel and world Jewry are weak and are facing an existential threat from worldwide antisemitism.
As a result of this disconnect, Jewish philanthropists have been lured into a pointless, expensive, and unwinnable fight against antisemitism, when they could be using their resources to capitalize on Israel’s successes and help Israel grow stronger through investment.
Over the past decade, some of the most prominent American philanthropists have invested billions of dollars in combating antisemitism. Robert Kraft’s Foundation to Combat Antisemitism alone has poured tens of millions into public campaigns, including a $25 million “Stand Up to Jewish Hate” initiative launched in 2023, according to The Boston Globe.
Other Jewish giving circles have directed resources to interfaith bridge-building and antisemitism programs, raising significant pooled funds, as eJewish Philanthropy has reported. And research from Indiana University's Lilly Family School of Philanthropy shows that American Jews who have experienced antisemitism give nearly ten times more to charity than those who have not.
The instinct is understandable: antisemitism has risen in the United States and Europe, with the Anti-Defamation League and Pew Research Center documenting consistent increases in incidents. But an uncomfortable question deserves asking: Is this philanthropic strategy effective, or is it ultimately counterproductive?
Antisemitism is not simply a matter of bad ideas that can be defeated with better arguments. It is often fueled by vast state-backed propaganda efforts, well-funded international organizations and the decentralized echo chambers of social media.
Against such forces, the philanthropic resources of Jewish and pro-Israel organizations, though significant, pale in comparison.
Major campaigns may briefly capture attention, but they also risk creating an arms race of messaging in which opponents can always outspend or outmaneuver. The asymmetry is striking: the infrastructure of global online hostility dwarfs what even the most generous donors can sustain.
The modern information environment makes this imbalance even starker. A leaked Facebook memo revealed that its algorithms favored incendiary content because it drove more engagement, a point widely reported by The Wall Street Journal. Independent research has confirmed that falsehoods spread faster and further online than truths, often reaching audiences six times quicker, as MIT Technology Review has noted.
These dynamics have had tragic real-world consequences. Amnesty International documented how Meta’s algorithms amplified anti-Rohingya content in Myanmar, fueling violence and contributing to genocide—a case covered extensively by Time magazine.
In the United Kingdom, regulators concluded that engagement-driven amplification of false and hateful posts played a significant role in fueling riots in 2024, according to The Guardian.
If social media platforms are structurally inclined to reward outrage, then fighting antisemitism with facts and rebuttals may be strategically unwinnable. The very act of responding can boost the reach of the hate one is trying to counter.
There is also a symbolic dimension. Campaigning against antisemitism can inadvertently reinforce an image of Jews and Israel as perpetually embattled, defined by their enemies rather than their achievements. This defensive posture echoes post-Holocaust narratives of victimhood, which critics argue can undermine confidence and agency.
By contrast, Israel’s story is one of extraordinary strength. The global military analysis site Global Firepower ranks Israel as the 15th most powerful military in the world, backed by a $30.5 billion defense budget. Beyond raw strength, Israel has become a global hub of innovation.
European Security & Defence notes it is among the world’s top ten defense exporters, while the OECD records Israel as the leading nation in research and development spending as a share of GDP. Its startup ecosystem is valued at more than $250 billion, ranking it fourth globally, according to Strategy International.
This narrative of resilience and ingenuity is often overshadowed by reactive battles against hostile rhetoric.
If boycotts and international criticism pose real challenges, they also highlight a different strategic choice: to invest inward rather than outward. By channeling resources into infrastructure, research, and education, Israel can strengthen its long-term position regardless of external hostility.
Israel is already a world leader in science, medicine, military technology, cybersecurity and many other areas. Investing in growing Israel’s strength can convince the world that boycotts are self-destructive and alliances are mutually beneficial. Success on the ground—economic, cultural, and technological—may ultimately do more to shape global perceptions than any anti-hate campaign.
In the short run, ignoring antisemitism will not be easy. Hostile rhetoric may continue, and some communities may feel abandoned without dedicated advocacy. Yet over time, resilience may be better demonstrated by thriving despite hostility, rather than by fighting to silence it.
Perhaps the most powerful response to hatred is not defense but success. By focusing on building a future of strength, innovation and resilience, Israel and its supporters can tell a story not of victimhood but of vitality. In the long run, that may prove to be the most convincing rebuttal of all.
