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Bipin Joshi was in Israel for 23 days before Oct. 7. This week, he was buried in his native Nepal.

This story was excerpted and adapted from the book “10/7: 100 Human Stories,” winner of the National Jewish Book Awards’ 2024 Jewish Book of the Year and The Natan Fund’s 2025 Notable Book Award.

Bipin Joshi wasn’t supposed to be sent to the Gaza border.

At 23, the tall young man carried his family’s aspirations on his shoulders — he was their firstborn son, their vessel of promise.

Home was Kanchanpur in Nepal’s fertile westernmost reaches, where the Mahakali River nourishes borderlands renowned for abundant harvests. There, Bipin first envisioned transforming agricultural knowledge into prosperity — he dreamed of a banana plantation that would secure his family’s future.

Israel was meant to be just a brief detour on his path to building something lasting back home.

When he enrolled in the Learn and Earn program that purported to offer  students from Africa and Asia  the opportunity of earning relatively high wages while taking classes in high-tech agriculture. Bipin had been assured placement in Israel’s heartland. But his assignment was changed at the last moment, and he was placed at Kibbutz Alumim, two miles from the Gaza border. Yet any disappointment he felt gave way to  relief: He would be working with Himachal Kattel, his best friend and roommate from college in Nepal. In Alumim, the two Nepali young men resumed their familiar schooldays routine, sharing a modest room where, after exhausting days of fieldwork, they would unwind with cold beers and songs from home.

A month later, Himachal and Bipin were some of the only students left alive from their cohort, nearly 3,000 miles from their home in Nepal, when Hamas attacked Alumim.Through the lemon and orange orchards, dozens of Hamas terrorists rampaged the Kibbutz, shooting indiscriminately. They killed 22 Thai and Nepali citizens, kidnapped eight, and injured a few more.

Tribhuvan International Airport, Kathmandu | Sept. 13, 2023

Himachal, a 25-year-old from a small village in the mountains of Gorkha, sported a large red Tika on his forehead at the Tribhuvan International Airport in Kathmandu. This was a blessing from his older sister, Niruta. He was the youngest of four siblings.

All 17 students awaiting their midnight flight were adorned with Tikas, a token of pride and blessing from their families.

In Nepali culture, they serve as good-luck charms and vouchsafes for significant journeys. Many parents had come to the airport, some in tears, others bearing gifts. It was a long goodbye — their children were leaving for 11 months.

They were making the trip for the money, and the education: they were supposed to earn more in a year in Israel than they’d earn in a few in Nepal, as well as gain skills that would advance their careers.

Aged between 22 and 25, most of the students had been raised in poverty.

Prabin Dangi, 24, was hoping to support his chronically ill mother back home, but found that despite his education, good jobs in Nepal were scarce. This was a common dilemma in his family, as one of his brothers was working in Dubai and another in Saudi Arabia for the same reason. His mother pleaded with him, her youngest son, not to leave, but he was determined to provide her with the best possible care.

Students take part in a candlelight vigil in Lalitpur, Nepal, on Oct. 9, 2023, in memory of Nepali citizens who were killed in Kibbutz Alumim, in Israel. (Prakash Mathema/AFP via Getty Images)

Ananda Sah, 25, had promised his grandmother that he’d build a house for her. Dipesh Raj Bista, 24, planned to finance his younger brother’s medical studies, being the sole supporter of his family after the death of his father.

And Joshi traded his musical ambitions and writing talent for practical skill: He wanted to learn advanced agricultural techniques that he could apply back home.

The group was sent to a classic “old-style” kibbutz named Alumim, where they shared responsibilities and lived communally. The kibbutz population — a community of 500 — was a mixture of religious jewish immigrants from Arab countries, members of the U.K.’s largest Orthodox Jewish youth movement, agricultural workers from Thailand and now, them as well.

Thai labor, along with Nepali labor, became Israel’s agricultural backbone after Palestinians (who had previously replaced Israeli farmers) were restricted from working in Israel in large numbers following the first intifada in the 1980s. Security concerns about terror attacks led Israel to seek an inexpensive workforce sourced from countries uninvolved in the conflict.

Kibbutz Alumim | Sept. 14-Oct. 6 

The students arrived in Israel in mid-September: warm, sunny days.

Soon after arriving, the students’ expectations collided with reality. The communal socialist principles they’d heard about didn’t seem to apply to them.

Their accommodation consisted of small cramped rooms equipped with bunk beds to maximize space.

Their days began around 4 a.m., when they’d gather in the cramped, gray kitchen to cook the lunch they’d bring with them to the fields, before heading out to do arduous physical labor under the sun, which typically lasted until approximately 4 p.m.

Prabin, Padam and Rajan were responsible for managing the kibbutz’s irrigation system. Their duties included carrying heavy pipes out to the fields, assembling the pipes and connecting them to the irrigation system, and fixing malfunctions.

Himachal and Bipin worked together in the orchards, trimming trees, and picking and packing pomelos and oranges. The work was simple, not technically advanced; it was difficult for them to ignore a sense of disappointment.

Each evening of the three weeks the Nepalese cohort spent there, many students called home, reassuring their families that their time in Israel, though it was draining, was a wise investment in their future.

They clung to the hope that their situation would improve once the university opened in October – the “Learn” portion of the program, which involved attending classes at Ben Gurion Negev University once a week.

On Oct. 3, an earthquake struck Nepal, and many were concerned for their families. Padam Thapa called home anxious on October 6. His sister-in-law, Mekhu Adhikari, told him about the frightening aftershocks. Ganesh Nepali urged his elder brother to look after their parents and stay safe, as their family home had sustained structural damage.

Kibbutz Alumin, the Foreign Workers Zone | Oct. 7

Himachal had stayed up until 3 a.m., engrossed in the final season of “Vikings” on Netflix. Saturdays offered the only chance for sleeping in.

Drifting off with his earphones in, he didn’t hear the sirens. At 6:30 a.m., Bipin woke him, urging, “We need to get to the shelter quickly.”

In the other room, Prabin, still half-dressed, rushed to the bunker, witnessing rockets slicing through the sky.

Padma (screen) and Pushpa (podium) Joshi, the mother and sister of Nepalese national Bipin Joshi held hostage by Palestinian militants in Gaza since 2023, address a demonstration organized by the families of hostages calling for action to secure their release in Tel Aviv on Aug. 16, 2025. (Jack Guez/AFP via Getty Images)

The 17 students were confined in the open-door shelter for more than an hour, waiting for instructions. This was the first missile attack they’d ever experienced. They’d been reassured before that rocket attacks from Gaza were common but rarely harmful, and told that staying inside a shelter would keep them safe. To pass the time, they divided into teams, playing Ludo on their phones.

Meanwhile, Rafi Babian, a kibbutz member and the security officer of the Sdot Negev Regional Council, was worried: The sheer number of missiles being fired was unusual. He headed to the council’s headquarters to activate the emergency center. En route, he was warned at the Reim intersection about the presence of terrorists nearby and soon after received an alert about terrorists approaching the gate of his home, Kibbutz Alumim. He notified the kibbutz a few minutes before Hamas arrived. By 6:45 a.m., the entire kibbutz emergency response squad, comprising a dozen members, was armed and ready. Fifteen minutes later, about 20 terrorists were at the kibbutz gate.

The Nepali students didn’t know any of this. They assumed the noises they heard were from missiles. They didn’t know that terrorists riding motorcycles and mopeds were already firing RPGs.

The emergency squad prevented the terrorist from reaching the kibbutz’s residential area — a few civilian-volunteers and soldiers were killed in the battle — but no kibbutz members were harmed.

The terrorists, having been repelled, went looking for another target. They found the workers’ quarters, near the cows and orchards.

From their shelter, the students heard loud Arabic being spoken by the approaching terrorists. Thinking the Arabic was Hebrew, they were relieved: someone had come to help them.

Dipesh Raj Bista stepped out of the shelter, followed by Ganesh Nepali, who just needed to use the restroom.

Outside the shelter, they were met by two men in black, pointing guns at them. Realizing these weren’t kibbutz-members, Dipesh Raj Bista yelled, “We are Nepalese!”

Gunfire was the response.

Dipesh and Ganesh were killed on the spot.

Soon after, a grenade was thrown into the shelter where the 15 other students were hiding. Bipin immediately realized what happened and threw the grenade back out. But he couldn’t catch the grenade that followed, and five of the students were injured. Ananda Shah was severely bleeding, clutching a pillow to stifle his screams. Lokendra Singh Dhami, bleeding too, was whispering about his wife, his 5-year old daughter, and his 2-year-old son.

Prabin, Himachal and Bipin weren’t hurt. They had huddled in a corner of the room, squeezing so tight together that it was hard to breathe. Together, they called one of their bosses, pleading, “Please help us, we’re in trouble.”

The response was short: “I’m so sorry, I can’t help you. There are terrorists attacking all over, I’m hiding too.”

Narayan Prasad Neupane wasn’t as gravely injured as the others: despite having lost three toes, he could still walk. He happened to have remembered the number of the Israeli emergency medical services and called for an ambulance. The operator, speaking English, assured him that help would arrive.

Soon after, two men in blue uniforms entered the shelter. “Please don’t hurt us,” the few students still alive begged.

“We’re the police, the Israeli police,” the men assured them.

“Please, take us to a hospital … these people are dying … get us out of here.”

“There are still terrorists outside,” the police said. “It’s impossible to move you now, but we’ll be back. Everyone who can walk, you need to move to a different place; it’s not safe in the shelter. Go to the kitchen or to your room.”

“And leave the wounded here?”

They had no choice.

Nepal’s interim Prime Minister Sushila Karki pays respects after draping the country’s national flag over the coffin of Bipin Joshi at the Tribhuvan International Airport in Kathmandu on Oct. 20, 2025. (Prakash Mathema / AFP via Getty Images)

Bipin, Himachal, Rajan, Prabin, Prabesh and Padam, leaping over the corpses and injured bodies of their friends, made their way into the dining room.

There, a few Thai workers were also hiding. Some of their friends had been murdered while sleeping in their beds.

Narayan, Lokendra and Dhan decided to move to the residency area. Upon hearing a car outside, Narayan went out to check if it was the ambulance he was waiting for. He was shot twice by a passing terrorist.

Crawling back into the room, covered in blood, water was his last request.

Kibbutz Alumim, Kitchen | Oct. 7

A defensive wall of Persian rice sacks — that’s what they constructed to shield themselves from further grenade attacks. Prabin came up with the idea, and they quickly stacked the sacks on top of each other.

It was a small kitchen; options for shelter were limited. Most of the Nepalese and Thai workers crouched behind the “rice wall,” under a wooden table, with Parmod hiding under the sink. Bipin, positioned in the middle and not shielded at all, grew increasingly worried about their friends left in the shelter.

As time passed without any sign of rescue, Bipin considered going back to help them. “We need to think about our next steps. Will you come with me and help bring our friends here?” he asked Himachal.

They sought the opinion of a Thai worker who’d been hiding in the kitchen before them. His name was Phonsawan Pinakalo, a 30-year-old tractor driver who’d arrived in Israel four years earlier, to earn a salary that was four times what he would’ve earned in Thailand. They communicated using Google Translate, going back and forth between Nepali and Thai.

Phonsawan’s response was unequivocal: “Don’t do it. If you do it, you’ll die. We’ve heard the terrorists walking around here for hours.”

On the other side of the table, Rajan tried to reassure his roommates Prabin, Prabesh, and Padam. “Don’t worry, nothing will happen. Help will come soon.”

Exhausted by their ordeal in Israel, Prabesh declared, “If we survive, we’re heading back to Nepal as soon as possible.”

An hour and a half later, Hamas terrorists broke down the kitchen door, shouting “Allah-hu Akbar” and shooting indiscriminately. The makeshift wall of rice sacks offered no protection.

The bullets pierced the sacks and hit them. Blood and rice was spilled on the floor.

“Prabin, how bad is your leg?”

“It’s bad. I can’t feel much of it. And you, Himachal?”

“You see the holes in my chest and shoulder, right? It’s getting harder to breathe.”

“We need water. I can’t bear this.”

Struggling, Himachal rose from their hiding spot under a cheap wooden table to fetch water. As he moved, he aggravated his chest wound and lost more blood. He managed to collect some water in a shallow plate, but half of it spilled as he returned to Prabin on the kitchen floor.

Israelis attend a farewell ceremony for Bipin Joshi at Ben Gurion Airport on Oct. 19, 2025. One holds a sign that says, “Sorry you got caught up in our disaster.” (Chris McGrath/Getty Images)

It wasn’t enough. Prabin’s throat was parched and he was writhing in agony.

“Pramod, do you have any water to give me? I beg you.”

Pramod didn’t respond. Hidden under the sink in a small plumbing cabinet, he was the only student unharmed, unseen by the Hamas shooters.

“Pramod, there’s water in the sink above. I beg you, I can’t move to get it. I’m so thirsty, I might scream, and they’ll come again and finish us off.”

He pleaded again and again, until Pramod made a small hole in the sink pipe and collected some of the murky water in a pot. Extending his hand from the cabinet, Pramod whispered, “Here, this is all we have.”

Prabin lapped up the mixture of water and urine. His roommates, Rajan and Prabesh, lay under the table as well: They were dead, killed immediately.

Padam, a fourth roommate, took longer to die. “I am dying, bhauju,” he managed to send a short text-message to his sister-in-law, then plead with his friends to help him: “Kill me. I can’t stand this anymore, kill me with a knife if you can.”

“Please, friend, bear this pain. The police will come for us,” Himachal said, though he believed they were all doomed. Beneath the table, he noticed his own breathing growing heavier and heavier, matching the heavy breathing of Padam and Parbin.

Oct. 8 – The Present

The men who arrived in Israel as “neutral” replacements for Palestinian workers ultimately returned to their home countries either empty-handed or in coffins.

Out of the 17 Nepalese students at Alumim, 10 were killed, four injured, two survived unharmed — and Bipin was taken hostage alongside Phonsawan.

From their hiding spot in the kitchen, Himachal and Prabin overheard one of the terrorists questioning the two hostages about their religion, to which Phonsawan responded, “Buddhist, Buddhist, Thailand, Thailand.”

Two hours later, Bipin and Phonsawan were seen with their captors being pushed into a-Shifa Hospital in Gaza City.

With the onset of war, the thousands of Thai and Nepalese workers in Israel left the country, causing the collapse of the Israeli agricultural sector.

In the midst of harvest season, Israel was once again in desperate need of guest workers. In December 2023, the government of Malawi, one of the world’s poorest countries, announced it would send about five thousand young people to work in Israeli agriculture. Hundreds of Sri Lankans also joined, putting money over safety.

Men take the coffin of Bipin Joshi, to a car after a farewell ceremony for Bipin Joshi, a young Nepalese man who was taken hostage on Oct. 7, 2023 and later died in captivity in Gaza, at Ben Gurion airport on Oct. 19, 2025. (Chris McGrath/Getty Images)

Himachal and Prabin spent several months in Israeli hospitals, lonely, unable to communicate adequately, facing a range of complex surgeries and medical procedures. Eventually, they managed to recover and even continue their studies, earning their master’s degree from Robert H. Smith Faculty of Agriculture, Food and Environment in Rehovot last month.

At some point, Phonsawan was added to the list of dead; his body was returned and flown to Thailand this week. But Bipin’s fate remained unknown.

During two years of war, Bipin’s family lived in agonizing uncertainty, not knowing whether their son was alive or dead. They were disappointed through two ceasefires, when Thai citizens who’d been taken hostage were released, and as government officials expressed “grave concern” for his life. Clinging to hope, they did everything in their power to raise public awareness about their son, a young man trapped in a foreign conflict.

Their worst fears were confirmed last week when Bipin’s corpse was returned to Israel, on the first day of a new ceasefire that brought with it the release of all 20 living hostages in Gaza.

“With immense pain, we received the worst news imaginable. Our dear son, Bipin — brother and soulmate to our daughter Pushpa — was murdered in Hamas captivity. Bipin left us full of excitement, setting out for a year of study in Israel. We never imagined that the hug we gave him then would be our last,” the Joshi family said in a statement.

Family members mourn during the funeral ceremony of Bipin Joshi at his residence in Kanchanpur, Nepal, on Oct. 21, 2025. Prakash Chandra Timilsena/AFP via Getty Images)

“Before you were taken, you managed to send a message to your cousin, asking him to be strong and always look toward the future. It is hard to imagine a future without you, Bipin,” the statement continued. “Every flower in the garden we planted for you will remind us of you — every orchard, every field. You are part of the landscape of Nepal, and now also part of the landscape of the Land of Israel.”

On Monday, Bipin made his journey home. The first stop was a ceremony at Ben Gurion Airport, where a top government official praised his heroism and addressed him directly, saying, “I am sorry. It shouldn’t have ended this way.”

Then, Bipin’s body was flown to Kathmandu, where Prime Minister Sushila Karki draped Nepal’s flag over it during a brief ceremony at the airport.

And from there, his coffin was taken to his village where on Tuesday morning, after a night in which his family was reportedly accompanied by so many who had provided comfort over the last two years, his body was cremated in a ceremony on the banks of the Mahakali River. Government representatives were present, and the photograph that had become famous in Israel and beyond was on display. Bipin was home in Kanchanpur, the borderland district whose soil nurtured his dreams and now his memory.


The post Bipin Joshi was in Israel for 23 days before Oct. 7. This week, he was buried in his native Nepal. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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Jewish leaders escalate concerns about unclear political conditions on federal security grants

(JTA) — The federal government distributes hundreds of millions of dollars each year to houses of worship to protect them from violent attacks, such as the synagogue arson in Jackson, Mississippi, last month or the car ramming at the Chabad headquarters in Brooklyn last week.

But would a synagogue that declares itself a sanctuary for refugees — and refuses to cooperate with Immigration and Customs Enforcement — be eligible for that funding under the Trump administration? What about a congregation that runs afoul of the administration’s anti-DEI push by offering programs aimed at making Jews of color, Jews with disabilities or LGBTQ Jews feel more welcome?

After more than six months of inquiries by Jewish organizations and members of Congress, the answer remains unclear: The federal government has not provided a definitive explanation of what conditions will apply to the funding. With the application deadline now passed, congregations that applied despite the uncertainty are waiting to find out whether they will receive an award.

“We are facing real threats against our communities,” Amy Spitalnick, the CEO, Jewish Council for Public Affairs, said in a statement. “Yet — as we’ve been warning for months — we’re now seeing this vital program thrown into chaos and politicized in dangerous ways — from the delayed rollout, to confusing and contradictory guidance, to new conditions that force communities to choose between their values and their security.”

The latest effort to keep the security funding untethered from ideological or political conditions came Thursday in a letter signed by a bipartisan group of members of Congress set to be sent to Kristi Noem, the U.S. secretary of homeland security, who oversees the program.

The letter was organized by Jewish Federations of North America, which for the first time is publicly calling to remove the conditions.

In the letter, lawmakers urge DHS to keep the Nonprofit Security Grant Program focused on its core purpose and free of unrelated policy requirements.

“In this time of rising antisemitic terror attacks and violence against diverse faith-based institutions, we believe it is crucial that NSGP remains a critical resource for all who seek to worship in safety and free from partisan politicization,” the letter says.

According to Eric Fingerhut, JFNA’s president and CEO, some Jewish institutions decided not to apply for the funding this year, though there is no estimate of how many.

“We continue to encourage every Jewish institution with heightened security needs to apply for these funds,” said in a statement. “We have also heard from our community that the current terms and conditions have had the unintended effect of deterring some organizations from applying, which is why we believe they should be updated appropriately.”

The letter follows a more forceful appeal sent last month by members of the Congressional Jewish Caucus — which is composed entirely of Democrats — organized by the Jewish Council for Public Affairs. That letter raised similar concerns about political and ideological conditions being attached to the grants.

The Department of Homeland Security has not responded to the Congressional Jewish Caucus letter has not answered requests for comment from the Jewish Telegraphic Agency since August.

Created more than 20 years ago, the program provides grants to nonprofits deemed at high risk of terrorism or extremist violence, helping them pay for “target hardening” and other physical security upgrades. Eligible expenses typically include cameras, access controls, alarms, locks and protective barriers. Congress allocated $274.5 million in each of the last two years and raised funding to $300 million for 2026. In 2024, lawmakers also approved a one-time $400 million infusion to address a surge in threats against houses of worship and nonprofit organizations following Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel.

Demand has far outpaced available funding. In 2024, roughly 7,600 applicants sought nearly $1 billion in grants, and only 43% were approved. Jewish institutions have historically comprised a significant share of the recipients.

When the federal nonprofit security grants were first proposed in 2004, they triggered a sharp debate inside the Jewish community: the Union for Reform Judaism, the Anti-Defamation League and the American Jewish Committee opposed the idea on church-state grounds, warning that direct federal support for houses of worship risked crossing a constitutional line.

That argument was echoed by prominent Jewish lawmakers during Senate consideration of the “High-Risk Non-Profit Security Enhancement Act.” Sen. Carl Levin backed an amendment to bar aid for security improvements to houses of worship, and Sen. Frank Lautenberg argued that even with safeguards, federal funding for religious sites “crossed a line,” citing a letter from Reform and Reconstructionist leaders that said such aid “seriously weakens the wall separating church and state.”

Over time, however, particularly as threats against Jewish institutions intensified, opposition within the Jewish community largely subsided. For many, the urgent need to protect lives outweighed earlier worries. The program was increasingly described by Jewish leaders and lawmakers as a rare bipartisan success: a lifesaving initiative that strengthened security at synagogues and other institutions without leading to government interference in religious affairs.

That consensus began to fray last year under the Trump administration, which introduced new grant terms that Jewish groups say extend beyond security into matters of values and policy.

The revised rules require grant recipients to make broad certifications related to immigration enforcement and diversity practices, prompting concerns that synagogues could risk losing funding for declaring themselves sanctuaries, declining to cooperate with immigration authorities, or offering inclusion-focused programming.

In August, an open letter signed by faith-based groups criticized the revised grant conditions and urged organizations to reconsider participation in the program as long as the conditions are in place.

“We are unified in refusing to capitulate to conditions that would require us to sacrifice the safety and dignity of our community members, neighbors, and partners in order to receive funding,” the letter said.

Signatories included progressive Jewish advocacy groups such as Bend the Arc: Jewish Action, Jews for Racial & Economic Justice and, Jewish Voice for Peace, as well as congregations such as Kolot Chayeinu in Brooklyn, Kehilla Community Synagogue in Oakland, and Temple Beth El in Stamford, Connecticut.

Groups like JFNA and JCPA that have long championed the program took a different tack. They advised Jewish institutions and congregations to apply for funding while they worked behind the scenes to push for changes, noting that if the conditions were still in place when grants were offered, applicants could then decline the money.

In November, DHS told JCPA that the immigration cooperation requirements do not apply to nonprofit security grants, though the official funding notice has not been revised to reflect the change and the applications nevertheless required applicants to disclose whether their work or mission involves supporting immigrants. Language barring what the administration defines as “illegal DEIA” activities remains in effect.

The uncertainty is underscored by a government FAQ that asks whether accepting nonprofit security grant funding could allow the federal government to impose restrictions “in any other area of policy that may contradict the religious and/or other beliefs” of a recipient. Rather than offering a clear answer, the guidance advises applicants to consult legal counsel — a response advocates have flagged as concerning.

A related dispute is also unfolding in federal court. In October, a judge in Rhode Island ruled in Illinois et al. v. FEMA that the Trump administration could not require states to cooperate with federal immigration enforcement as a condition of receiving certain homeland security grants, ordering those requirements stripped from grant agreements.

But a subsequent DHS memo notes that the ruling applies only to the 21 states and jurisdictions that sued, and that the administration will reinstate the conditions if it prevails on appeal.

The post Jewish leaders escalate concerns about unclear political conditions on federal security grants appeared first on The Forward.

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Jews who support Israel often do not identify as ‘Zionists,’ new JFNA survey finds

(JTA) — Only one-third of American Jews say they identify as Zionist, even as nearly nine in 10 say they support Israel’s right to exist as a Jewish and Democratic state, according to a new survey conducted by Jewish Federations of North America.

The findings of the survey reveal that American Jews do not have a mutually agreed-upon definition of Zionism — with those identifying as anti-Zionist and those identifying as Zionist ascribing sharply different meanings to the term.

For example, about 80% of anti-Zionist Jews say “supporting whatever actions Israel takes” is a tenet of Zionism, while only about 15% of self-identified Zionists share the belief, according to the survey.

The survey marks the most detailed assessment of the sentiments of American Jews about Zionism by a major Jewish organization in the United States, finding that 14% of Jews ages 18 to 34 identify as anti-Zionist and that the only demographic with a majority of self-identified Zionists was Millennials between 35 and 44.

The survey comes as tensions following the Oct. 7 attack, Israel’s war in Gaza and the election of New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani have put a sustained spotlight on the tenor of American Jewish support for Israel — and divided Jewish communities.

The divisions, JFNA is concluding based on the data, are real but often overstated — a matter of concern as Jewish communities and institutions decide whether and how to engage with Jewish critics of Israel.

“If we misread the trend about ‘Zionism’ to mean that large numbers of Jews, especially young Jews, are turning against the existence of Israel itself, we will draw the wrong conclusions and take the wrong actions,” Mimi Kravetz, JFNA’s chief impact officer, wrote in an essay about the survey’s findings. “We risk responding with anger when the moment calls for steady leadership, pulling away when the moment calls for connection, and defensiveness when the moment calls for listening and understanding.”

Kravetz’s comments add JFNA, the umbrella organization of hundreds of local Jewish federations in the United States and Canada, to an emerging group of Jewish leaders calling to open dialogue with Jews who have recently taken stands against Israel or in support of its opponents. JFNA would continue to define itself as Zionist, Kravetz noted, “in large part because we adhere to the historic definition,” but she conceded that the term had undergone “definition creep.”

Conducted in March 2025 by the research firm Burson, the survey posed a variety of questions to more than 1,800 Jewish and more than 4,100 total respondents about their relationship to Israel and Zionism, as well as about their beliefs about the definition of Zionism.

It was new territory for studies of American Jews. While a major 2021 survey of American Jews by the Pew Research Center had polled Jews on their relationship to Israel, that survey had avoided the use of the word “Zionism.” Other major Jewish groups that conduct population surveys have in the past typically avoided closely interrogating Jewish opinions about Zionism. JFNA’s venture into this territory came as part of the umbrella group’s series of post-Oct. 7 Jewish trend studies, which have also revealed what the group has termed a “surge” of Jewish engagement.

Overall, more than 70% of Jewish adults who responded to JFNA’s survey agreed that “I feel emotionally attached to Israel,” and 60% said Israel made them proud to be Jewish. At the same time, nearly 70% also agreed that “I sometimes find it hard to support actions taken by Israel or its government.”

One of the survey’s big sticking points emerged around self-identified Zionists. Only 37% of Jews surveyed said they identified as Zionist, while 7% labeled themselves anti-Zionist and another 8% said they were non-Zionist. Another 18% said they weren’t sure, while 30% said none of the labels described them.

At the same time, 88% of surveyed Jews believed that “Israel has the right to exist as a Jewish, Democratic state” — traditionally one of the most historically accepted definitions of Zionism. Seven percent of Jews disagreed with that sentiment, equal to the number who consider themselves anti-Zionist.

Respondents were also quizzed on what views they believed constituted “a part of Zionist beliefs.” Among Jews, 36% said Zionism only meant “the right of the Jewish people to have a Jewish state.” More than one in four Jewish respondents said they thought Zionists were expected to be “supporting whatever action Israel takes,” and 35% said Zionism meant “believing Israel has a right to the West Bank and Gaza Strip.”

Smaller numbers of Jews indicated that they thought “believing Palestinians are a made-up population” and “believing Jews are superior to Palestinians” were also core Zionist tenets.

To Kravetz, these results indicate that some Jews “are not rejecting Israel’s existence or the idea of a Jewish state. They are reacting to an understanding of Zionism that includes policies, ideologies, and actions that they oppose, and do not want to be associated with.”

That is especially true for younger Jews, according to the survey, which shows stark differences along age lines. Less than half of Jews under 44 agreed that “in general, Israel makes me feel proud to be Jewish.” The lowest share of Jews who agreed that Israel has a right to exist as a Jewish and Democratic state came from the same age group — though even then about three in four, a sizable majority, agreed with the statement.

Uneasiness in describing oneself as Zionist held true across nearly every age range, with only around 35% of Jews in most demographics using the term to describe themselves.

Of the Jewish respondents, 37% were Reform, 17% were Conservative, 9% were Orthodox and 30% identified as other or as no particular denomination. Survey results shared with JTA broke down respondents by age range, but not by other factors such as denomination; individuals were randomly assigned to receive certain questions.

The debate over Zionism remains fraught. The last few years have seen increased demonization of “Zionists,” alongside shifting definitions of the term, among progressives and far-right figures on social media and college campuses. At the same time, new advocacy groups like The Jewish Majority and the Movement Against Antizionism have called for shunning those expressing anti-Zionist or anti-Israel sentiment from Judaism’s big tent.

Still, more Jewish researchers are looking to better understand the intra-Jewish divide over Zionism and the various ways Jews understand the term.

For The Sake of Argument, an organization that promotes “healthy arguments” and works with several mainstream Jewish groups including JFNA, recently undertook its own interview series with Jewish anti-Zionists. Co-directors Robbie Gringas and Abi Dauber Sterne plan to soon publish findings from their conversations with about 30 participants.

“It’s great that people are starting to talk about the elephant in the room,” Gringas told JTA from Israel. “We, the Jewish world, don’t yet know what to do with this. And in the meantime, we have to find a way to not break each other’s hearts as much as we have been.”

The pair’s main takeaway from their interviews, Gringas said, was that Jewish anti-Zionists were “sad, if not brokenhearted, about the ways in which they not only find no expression for their Judaism, but also find the Judaism that they’re meeting very challenging.” He added, “The people we met were very knowledgeable about Israel and about Judaism. They were rich human beings.”

The fact that more institutional Jewish groups are interested in learning about what motivates Jewish anti-Zionism is a positive step, Gringas said, adding that it fits the current challenges of the Jewish moment.

“We need to recognize that the world’s changed. We’re in a different time,” he said. “We’re not in a transition. We’re in a rupture. And we need to confront it and think about it carefully.”

The post Jews who support Israel often do not identify as ‘Zionists,’ new JFNA survey finds appeared first on The Forward.

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Palestine Action activists acquitted in Israeli defense firm break-in, drawing criticism from British Jewish leaders

(JTA) — A British jury has acquitted six activists from the British group Palestine Action who were charged with breaking into the U.K. site of an Israeli defense company, eliciting criticism from British Jewish groups and leaders.

The defendants — Charlotte Head, 29, Samuel Corner, 23, Leona Kamio, 30, Fatema Rajwani, 21, Zoe Rogers, 22, and Jordan Devlin, 31 — were accused of driving a prison van into Elbit Systems’ factory, an Israeli-based military technology company, on Aug. 6, 2024, and causing damage to the building’s property and using sledgehammers as weapons.

After deliberating for 36 hours and 34 minutes, the jury said on Wednesday that it was unable to reach verdicts for criminal damage charges against all six defendants.

The jury was also unable to reach a verdict for charges faced by Corner, who was accused of causing grievous bodily harm with intent for hitting a police sergeant with a sledgehammer.

The incident took place nearly a year before the defendants’ organization, Palestine Action, was banned under the Terrorism Act in July after its activists broke into a Royal Air Force base and spray-painted two planes to protest Britain’s support for Israel. Now, people expressing support for Palestine Action or participating in its activism can be charged with terrorism.

The ruling drew praise from some British lawmakers and the Irish rap group Kneecap, whose member was charged under the Terrorism Act in May for displaying a Hezbollah flag at a concert in London last year.

But Jewish groups and figures in the United Kingdom lamented the acquittal.

The Board of Deputies of British Jews, the largest Jewish organization in the United Kingdom, said in a statement that it was “concerned by the troubling verdicts acquitting members of Palestine Action.” Alleging that the group had targeted “businesses linked to the Jewish community in London and Manchester,” the group called for a retrial on the charges in which the jury did not reach a verdict.

“While it is important to respect the integrity of the judicial process, there is a serious danger of perverse justifications being used as a shield for criminality,” the statement continued. “It cannot be the case that those who commit serious criminal acts, including violent assaults, are able to evade the consequences of their actions.”

In an op-ed published in The Telegraph titled “The Palestine Action acquittals are telling British Jews they have no future here,” former Jewish Chronicle editor Stephen Pollard argued that “the message of the case is this: you can smash the spine of a police officer and so long as you are doing it because of ‘Palestine’, you can walk home free.”

“That decision, I believe, may come to be seen as the single most significant case in the history of Anglo-Jewry since 1945,” continued Pollard. “It shows that the game is up. We can no longer rely on the criminal justice system. And when the law is no longer there to protect us, who or what will?”

The post Palestine Action activists acquitted in Israeli defense firm break-in, drawing criticism from British Jewish leaders appeared first on The Forward.

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