Lost Cachet

Last week, as news of President Trump’s Gulf trip kept filling the headlines, I imagined the State of Israel as a runty kid arriving at the school playground and finding Big Sam, his trusty protector, at the center of a circle of flashy kids plying him with shiny new toys.

“I still like you, Izzy, I really do. You’re a terrific person, very misunderstood, but I get you. Your side of town? It’s been a disaster, a total disaster. Very sad! I hope it gets better over there. Maybe I’ll come by sometime, do a little visit. But right now? I’m over here with this crowd — and let me tell you, they’ve got the most incredible toys. HUGE toys, shiny toys, the best toys. They’re giving me so much stuff — it’s unbelievable! Never seen anything like it. Total winners!”

For years, the America-Israel relationship was understood as an alliance based on something much more enduring than shared financial, military, or territorial interest: It was girded on shared values. Israel viewed itself, and was likewise viewed by much of America, as a small but stalwart model of democratic values in a tough neighborhood. It was a scrappy, shining example of how the American system — spiced with a heaping spoonful of Jewish genius and a dash of Israeli chutzpah — could function and even thrive in foreign soil.

And Israel’s leadership was determined to preserve that shining image, sometimes bending over backward to prove the country’s democratic bona fides. Even when it meant compromising the country’s Jewish values, Israel’s government, judiciary, media, and academia chose to favor its democratic character rather than its own traditions and heritage. After all, its existence as a democratic state was the complement to the concept of American exceptionalism.