I remember well when President Isaac Herzog took the stage in Tel Aviv, full of enthusiasm, and declared his vision for a new global Jewish dialogue. The initiative was called “Kol Ha’am–Voice of the People,” and its purpose was both ambitious and noble: to connect Jews across the world with Israel and Israelis with world Jewry.
On paper, it sounded groundbreaking. A global Jewish advisory council, directly linked to the president of Israel, that would discuss the most pressing issues facing the Jewish people, bridge the growing gaps between Israel and the Diaspora, and cultivate the next generation of Jewish leaders.
It was meant to be a safe space for difficult conversations – about identity, Zionism, Jewish continuity, and the fundamental question of what it means to be part of Am Yisrael in the 21st century.
Herzog’s speech in April 2023 struck the right chords
“The fact is that between our Jewish communities, and between them and the State of Israel, we are growing at times more distant from one another,” he said. “The gaps between us are growing wider. On some of the most essential questions, we are unable to agree. But more concerning, often we are unable even to discuss. That critical web of connectedness – the sense of shared purpose and destiny that has sustained our people for millennia – seems to be loosening.”
It was hard to disagree. But as I sat there listening to the president outline his vision, I felt something all too familiar – a mix of excitement and deep skepticism.
The ghosts of past initiatives
Herzog was not the first Israeli leader to recognize this problem. In fact, this wasn’t even the first time such an initiative had been announced.
Almost two years ago, when Herzog first introduced Voice of the People, I wrote a column in The Jerusalem Post, raising an uncomfortable but necessary question: Does Israel need another entity for dialogue with the Diaspora?
The history of Israel-Diaspora relations is littered with grand announcements, grander promises, and ultimately, little to no impact. Every few years, a new leader, a new philanthropist, or a new think tank comes up with an idea to improve the relationship between Israel and the global Jewish community.
Take 2004, for example. Then-president Moshe Katsav proposed a “Second House,” a global Jewish parliament that would advise the Knesset on issues such as conversion, assimilation, and Jewish education. It never materialized.
A few years later, president Reuven Rivlin launched “Our Common Destiny,” an effort to get all Jews – secular, Orthodox, Reform, Ashkenazi, Sephardi, American, European, Israeli – to speak to one another. That, too, disappeared with time.
Even prime ministers tried. In 2009, philanthropist Pierre Besnainou and Jewish Agency leader Alan Hoffman presented the Israeli government with a detailed report, proposing a dedicated government-backed initiative to strengthen Jewish identity in the Diaspora. The Netanyahu government showed little interest.
And the list goes on. Each time, these projects start with excitement, lavish conferences, and hopeful rhetoric. And each time, they fade away – forgotten, underfunded, or simply ignored by Israeli policy-makers who see the Diaspora as little more than a source of donations and political support.
So naturally, the question arises: Will “Voice of the People” be any different?
The challenge of bridging the divide
In recent years, the tensions between Israel and world Jewry have only intensified. The haredi (ultra-Orthodox) monopoly on Jewish conversion and prayer at the Western Wall, Israel’s judicial overhaul, and its political shift to the right have alienated many progressive Jews in North America. On the flip side, Israelis often feel that Diaspora Jews – especially in the United States – fail to grasp the realities of life in Israel and the existential threats the country faces.
As a result, Israeli and Diaspora Jewry often seem like two separate universes. They speak different languages – both literally and figuratively. One operates in a sovereign Jewish state with the responsibilities and burdens that come with it. The other exists as a minority community, balancing Jewish identity with integration into the broader societies of North America, Europe, and elsewhere.
How do you bridge a gap that, for some, feels like an unbridgeable chasm?
During the gala evening at the Voice of the People gathering, a group of young women performed a spoken-word piece in multiple languages – Hebrew, English, Arabic, and French. Then a haredi man took the stage, his tzitzit hanging from beneath his shirt, a large beard, and a black hat firmly on his head. He, too, performed a spoken-word piece, his voice carrying a thick Russian accent.
I sat at one of the round tables, taking in the elegant setting and the careful choreography of inclusion, and suddenly, something struck me.
Was this spoken-word performance a way to avoid a musical one? And if so, was it because having female singers would have made some haredi participants uncomfortable?
I leaned over to those at my table and shared my theory. Most of them dismissed it, insisting I was reading too much into it. Perhaps my Jewish world journalistic instincts were out of sync.
But later that night, in a conversation with one of the organizers, I discovered I was right. Voice of the People was genuinely trying to accommodate all Jewish identities, and that meant every group had to make compromises.
One council member, a close friend of mine who serves as the editor-in-chief of a major haredi weekly, admitted that his participation itself was a compromise. Sitting in a circle with Reform Jews, engaging in deep dialogue for hours a day – this was something he would have once found deeply uncomfortable.
“I had to take a deep breath before joining Voice of the People,” he confessed. “This probably wouldn’t have happened before October 7.”
The October 7 massacre changed something in him, he said. It did in all of us.
For years, he had refused to join delegations of Israelis traveling abroad to meet with progressive Jews. But now, something had shifted, he said.
The Voice of the People gathering had a distinctly Jewish, even spiritual, energy. Every speaker quoted Torah verses or recited prayers. In the hotel lobby in Haifa, a group of rabbis from different streams broke into a spontaneous prayer service for the hostages.
Even the composition of the 150-member council was telling. Nearly everyone I spoke to said they didn’t recognize most of the members. These were not the usual suspects.
A good friend – who is a regular at these types of gatherings – admitted that he had never attended such a diverse conference. “The content was acceptable,” he said. Others shrugged and called it “eh.” But everyone agreed: The people were fascinating.
Will it work?
If Voice of the People is to have any real impact, it must avoid the mistakes of the past. It needs real influence, not just symbolism. It must engage Israelis, not just Diaspora Jews. It has to move beyond dialogue into action.
If Herzog’s initiative turns out to be yet another well-intentioned but short-lived project, it will join a long list of missed opportunities. But if it manages to break the cycle – if it creates something lasting, impactful, and genuinely representative of the global Jewish community – it could be a game-changer.
The question is: Does Israel finally have the courage to listen?
A surprisingly warm welcome in Washington
It was a significant moment. Just minutes after stepping out of his first meeting with US Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent, Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich reflected on what had just taken place.
The meeting marked a breakthrough in Israeli-US economic relations. For the past four years, no Israeli finance minister had met with a senior US Treasury official. Under the Biden administration, then-treasury secretary Janet Yellen did not meet with her Israeli counterpart – not once.
And yet, here we were, less than a month into the new administration, and the conversation was warm, open, and engaging.
The discussion began with generalities – the war, economic resilience, and regional stability – but quickly moved into substantive policy matters. Bessent was not just courteous; he was deeply engaged, emphasizing that economic security is a key priority for Washington, and that Israel’s economic strength is viewed as integral to broader strategic stability.
Despite war and political turmoil, Israel’s economic indicators over the past year have been remarkably strong. The challenge now is not just to maintain stability but to emerge even stronger, ensuring the economy doesn’t just survive the war but thrives beyond it.
Bessent, who comes from the finance world, joked about the long diplomatic freeze at the Treasury Department, acknowledging the shift between administrations. He was keenly aware of how US economic policies directly impact Israel, touching on issues such as international taxation and global financial trends.
The conversation also turned to Russia and Ukraine. Bessent said Israel could play a crucial role in stabilizing the postwar economic landscape – a prospect that remains undefined but could grow in importance.
The diplomatic reality has clearly changed. A minister who was previously boycotted by parts of Washington is now being welcomed with open doors. The US administration, it seems, sees Israel not just as an ally but as a key player in economic and strategic discussions.
Whether this newfound openness translates into concrete policy shifts remains to be seen. But the meeting signaled something important: Israel and the US are entering a new phase in their economic relationship, and the conversation has only just begun.