You don’t bring facts to a feelings fight.”
This has become a common critique of even the most well-intentioned Israel activism, with its reliance on historical facts and its tendency to overintellectualize rather than make emotional appeals. This insight, while true, suffers from the opposite shortcoming: oversimplification.
In fact, Israel activism often involves a lot of feelings. The problem is that they are communicated ineffectively. Having spent the past year and a half conducting a comprehensive qualitative study about attitudes toward Jews and Israel, including interviews, ethnographic research, and focus groups within white, Latino, and black demographics, I have learned some surprising truths about what might move the needle in dispelling antisemitic and anti-Israel sentiment.
What emerged from my research — recently published under the title American Perceptions of Jews & Israel: Narratives of Antisemitism, Insights & Strategies for Change — wasn’t just a window into the audience, but a mirror for understanding the Jewish world as well. In that reflection, two modes of Israel activism came into view: the informational and the critical. Although these are not the only modes of Israel activism, they are both quite common and, as well-intentioned as they might be, both have a way of quietly undermining their goals.
The problem
At the heart of Israel activism lies a central question: Who is Israel activism really for? Are its messages thoughtfully crafted to reach the average American — someone with little background in Jewish history, Israel, or the conflict? Or is it unintentionally inward-facing, offering affirmation and catharsis to those already convinced? If activists knew how their messages landed with people who haven’t lived the same history or who have been shaped by completely different ones, they might rethink the instinct to educate through correction and to respond to ignorance with criticism and shame.
Let’s begin with activists who work in the informational mode. One of the most urgent challenges in pro-Israel activism today is dismantling the propaganda narrative that vilifies Israel and thereby makes it seem reasonable to call for the country’s elimination. To this fight, the informational activists come armed with argumentation, data, and moral outrage, believing that their emotionally resonant facts — definitions of antisemitism and Zionism or reminders of Israel’s repeated attempts at compromise with the Palestinians and the frustrating failures on the part of Palestinian leadership to achieve such compromises. The informational activists believe that all this will cut through the distortions.
These facts carry deep emotional weight within the Jewish community because they are interwoven with shared history, collective memory, and inherited language that stir a powerful internal response. But the informational activist mistakes the emotion she feels when relaying the facts for the emotion she is generating in the listener. For most Americans — who lack that cultural and historical context — such messaging lands as cold lecturing. You cannot reason someone out of a stance he didn’t reason himself into. This is what I call “the illusion of emotional expression.”
The only communication style arguably less persuasive than emotional flatness is its opposite: aggression. The critical activists — prevalent on social media and the television debate circuit — employ shame, combativeness, and sometimes a dash of theatrical hysteria when pointing out the hypocrisies and logical inconsistencies of the other side. Needless to say, there is no lack of emotion here, but the emotional charge does not translate into persuasive argumentation. Notably, though, that doesn’t seem to be the point. An even cursory look at some of these high-profile activists and their platforms suggests that the intended audience are those who are already pro-Israel. Moral outrage may soothe the advocate’s sense of righteousness, but it rarely persuades the undecided. What feels sacred and urgent to Jews often sounds opaque, moralizing, or even patronizing to those outside the fold.
The psychologist Marshall Rosenberg, founder of the Nonviolent Communication framework, draws a crucial distinction: There is a difference between emotional honesty and emotional impact. If the informational activists suffer from the illusion of emotional expression, conflating their own emotions with those they are trying to evoke, critical activists make a similar mistake on the opposite side of the coin, mistaking their emotional honesty for emotional impact. The intensity of moral outrage often backfires. It can trigger defensiveness, reinforce bias, and widen the gap.
This reveals what both modes of Israel activism have most in common: They are more accurately understood as acts of catharsis than of persuasion.
The informational and critical modes of Israel activism are just opposite methods of catharsis, alternative outlets for emotional release. Whether activists are speaking from a position of performative distance and factual objectivity, or from a place of smug moral superiority or raw grief, their subconscious priority is to serve their own emotional needs rather than to foster a connection with their audience.
My research confirms this. When asked about their impressions of Israelis and Israeli activists, Americans said they perceived them as “cold,” “entitled,” and “uncaring.” It is neither the facts nor the feelings that are missing from Israel activism. What it requires, more than emotional intensity, is emotional attunement. Without such attunement, even the most factually airtight and morally impassioned argument fails to persuade. As one of my focus group participants said, “It’s hard to be like, correct or not — it’s more like framing. It’s not necessarily facts; propaganda is more like tone. Pushing you.” Another added, “The tone and facial expressions — that’s how you know if it’s legit.”
A new way
What the insight of emotional attunement calls for is a shift in focus: away from what the activist feels compelled to express, and toward what the audience needs to hear. The key to identifying that also requires a shift away from the “what” entirely and toward the “who.”
So, who is Israel? Most Americans really have no idea. They do, however, hold certain notions and impressions of Jews. When asked to rank the positive qualities they associate with Jews, Americans rarely cite achievements or what Jews have brought to the world. They often cite deeply human qualities that evoke emotion rather than debate: strong family values, hard work, humor, and resilience. If the goal is to illuminate who Israelis are, and why they act as they do, activists must anchor storytelling of Israel in what Americans already value about Jews, in ways that reveal Israel’s moral purpose and posture.
I’ve seen this come up in unexpected ways in my research. One participant in my study captured this truth with striking clarity, in language that required no background or briefing: “Israel be like, ‘You slapped my momma, I’m gonna f*** you up.’ And it’s like, he’s actin’ all crazy like, ‘Whoa dude, calm down.’ But also, I get it — you shouldn’t smack his momma.” Another voiced this kind of emotional truth in a way that clearly echoed across the room with the other participants: “Israel be like, ‘Yo, if you got 100 of my people and you’re talkin’ about signing some peace treaty — no way. I’m getting my people back. You wanna be hard-headed? I guess we’ll be hard-headed together.’”
The emotional attunement here is in the participants’ recognition of the familial, the who rather than the what. The instinct to protect one’s own is universal, whereas fights over the definition of Zionism or what is and is not antisemitism, while sacred to Jews, are meaningless or even alienating to most Americans.
One of the most compelling defenses of Zionism I heard in my study never used the word at all. A participant reflected on Jews’ desire to safeguard their own nation: “It’s people fighting for their spot, man. Fighting to live and be able to be free. That’s what everybody wants.”
Another added: “Everyone has a dream, and they’re going to achieve that.”
This is the crux: storytelling rooted in universal human experience. Language that doesn’t need translation. The pro-Israel community must stop dying on the hill of terminology.
Instead of antisemitism, talk about exclusion, fear, and erasure.
Instead of Zionism, talk about belonging, safety, and freedom.
Israel activism’s fixation on vocabulary is the dry result of its lack of emotional attunement. This becomes even more problematic in times of war when people’s screens are flooded with images of tanks, airstrikes, and hungry families.
The pro-Israel instinct is often to explain, to correct, to justify these images. But that impulse misses the heart of persuasion. It’s not about what Israel does; it’s about who Israelis are and what they’re fighting for, and that story centers on the values Americans identify with Jews and Judaism. The goal isn’t to soften the truth of war’s many horrors. It’s to replace abstraction with humanity and common values.
This is where the anti-Israel movement excels, and how it has managed to mobilize a sweeping coalition despite the fact that most of its supporters know little about Palestinians, their history, or that of the region. Instead, they have tapped into America’s cultural psyche. Take the phrase “Free Palestine.” It strikes a chord not because of historical accuracy, but because it taps into a core American value — freedom. It sounds instinctively right, morally urgent, and emotionally clear. Its power lies in how it feels, and it feels a lot like “Free Tibet.” Have you ever met an American who takes issue with that?
By contrast, “Stand with Israel” feels static, tribal, and closed. It draws a line instead of opening a door. It demands allegiance, but it doesn’t invite or inspire it. The anti-Israel movement’s emotional attunement has allowed it to capitalize on the vagaries of American popular sentiment, always tapping into what Americans are feeling. When America grapples with racism, Israel is a white country oppressing a brown minority — despite its blurring of ethnic and racial categories. When Americans lose faith in institutions, Israel is made to represent the establishment. Anti-Israel activists don’t fight history; they mirror emotion. They meet America where it is and match its vibe.
Israel, the flawed hero
In the effort to develop emotional attunement, there is at least one arena where Israel is at a distinct disadvantage, and that is the role it plays on the world stage. The human mind instinctively sorts groups and countries into archetypes — symbolic roles that help us make sense of who is powerful, who is vulnerable, and who deserves our empathy. Archetypes are a powerful emotional shorthand, and in geopolitics, Israel is often cast in the archetype of the ruler, or king. While this archetype serves Israel well in boardrooms and war rooms, securing defense alliances and major investments, the archetype has an Achilles’ heel. When a king falters, he doesn’t merely stumble, he falls. Strength curdles into oppression. Power becomes cruelty. Leadership becomes tyranny.
The king’s battle dress exudes protectiveness, steadfastness, and control, but offers no warmth. It doesn’t invite connection and understanding — it deflects it. It inspires obedience, not empathy. And in its long shadow, the Israeli people are no longer seen as human beings with fears, families, and dreams. They dissolve into abstraction. In this perception, Israel is not a people but a regime: cold, domineering, and emotionally inaccessible.
So when propaganda fuels rage against Israel, that fury doesn’t stay confined to Israel the government or Israel the military. It overtakes all of Israel, the nation, the society, the people.
This is where the anti-Israel movement seizes its advantage. Through its messaging, alliances, and imagery it has constructed a dual-archetype identity, that of the innocent victim/anti-hero. This simultaneously humanizes the Palestinian national movement as a whole and justifies or excuses the violence it inflicts.
The primary archetype is that of the innocent victim: powerless, suffering, virtuous. With this archetype, the Palestinian national movement again finds resonance in the American psyche and its deep affinity for the underdog. America’s self-conception, after all, casts itself in this role vis-à-vis the British — wait for it — king.
But the archetype translates into something more powerful when it comes to Hamas, who is cast as the savior of the innocent victims. Hamas is the anti-hero — rebellious, defiant, fighting for justice by any means necessary. In a society disillusioned with institutions, this archetype resonates even more. Think of Joaquin Phoenix’s Joker in the 2019 movie. Here, vengeance is valor. At worst, violent excesses can be viewed as lamentable missteps on the road to restitution. The Palestinian cause has become a vessel for American cultural emotion, a canvas onto which many identity groups project their own struggles against power and oppression.
Archetypes don’t just shape perception, they filter it. Once someone sees a group as the innocent victim or the anti-hero, and their enemy as a king, reality can be easily narrated to fit into that dynamic. New facts don’t change the frame; they become absorbed into it. It is why, as the research illustrates, exposing Hamas atrocities often fails to sway those already sympathetic to the Palestinian cause. For those drawn to the anti-hero archetype, the violence doesn’t disqualify the story; it reinforces it.
Israel’s goal, and that of its global supporters, in this context of communications should be to shift its archetype from that of the king to one that is in fact more accurate: the flawed hero.
Like the anti-hero, the flawed hero lives at the heart of the American imagination. Americans don’t fall in love with the perfect as much as they fall for the brave. The brave are not fearless; they overcome their fears and shortcomings. The great figures of America’s various superhero universes fit this archetype well. It’s Batman battling villains as well as inner demons. It’s Iron Man simultaneously fighting the corrupt and his own alcoholism.
The flawed hero is noble but imperfect — resilient, relentless, and possessed of a deeply humane purpose. In addition to being an archetype that resonates powerfully in today’s cultural climate, the flawed hero has character traits that line up nicely with what Americans admire about the Jewish community.
In an era shaped by disillusionment and distrust of institutions, portraying Israel as flawless doesn’t build trust. It erodes it. Connecting with Millennials and Gen Z, who now sit at the emotional center of anti-Israel messaging from the Right and the Left, means adopting this new archetype.
One participant in my study captured that flavor of truth in a single, unforgettable line — spoken not in defense of Israel’s policies, but in admiration of its people:
“They’re gonna ride or die.”
That’s not the language of geopolitics. It’s the language of personal devotion. It is not the language of perfection, but of connection; connection begins where perfection ends. This is the soul of the flawed hero. It’s the difference between the declarative statement, “No country would tolerate rockets being fired at its civilians” and the statement of devotion: “It’s terrifying to live under constant rocket fire. All we know — deep in our bones — is that we have to keep our children safe.”
The flawed hero breaks the trance of the propaganda, which assigns cruelty and indifference to Israel’s actions. It reframes them as what they often are: messy, imperfect acts of fierce protection and painful necessity.
This is the heart of Israel. This is not what but who Israel is.
For additional reading on this topic:
Improbable Influencers by ANI WILCENSKI
Why Has Palestinian Activism Been So Successful? by ARIELLA SAPERSTEIN
