There are moments when international perception evolves slowly. And then there are tipping points. What is happening in the United States with Israel falls into this second category. For decades, support for the state of Israel in the United States has withstood wars, occupations, and condemnations. Israel was an almost untouchable ally, protected by exceptional bipartisan consensus. But something has broken. And this time, visibly.
The latest episode in the Senate confirms this. This Wednesday, an initiative led by Bernie Sanders aimed to block the sale of 450 kilogram bombs and armored bulldozers to the Israeli army, in the context of the war in Gaza and its regional extension to Lebanon and Iran. The resolutions were not adopted. But the essential is not the point: what matters is what this vote revealed.
For the first time in years, a significant part of the Democratic group has broken away from automatic support for Israel. Specifically, 40 out of 47 Democratic senators opposed the supply of bulldozers and 36 out of 47 opposed the sending of bombs. Even more significant: none of the Democratic senators with presidential ambitions supported these arms transfers. Even if the official line does not change immediately, the political signal is clear: in Washington, support for Israel is no longer automatic.
This institutional shift did not come out of nowhere. It is the expression of a deeper erosion that has occurred throughout the war. The genocide in Gaza – with its tens of thousands of dead – was the most brutal trigger. Direct involvement in the escalation with Iran and the continuation of operations in Lebanon have exacerbated this process. These episodes have fueled an idea: actions by Benjamin Netanyahu’s government are no longer perceived as defensive, but increasingly as a factor of regional instability.
This shift is clearly reflected in public opinion. For the first time in decades, the American population no longer shows a majority sympathy towards Israel. A recent Gallup poll indicates that 41% of Americans feel closer to the Palestinians, compared to 39% who support Israel. The gap is small, but its significance is considerable: the historical balance has shifted. In 2001, the advantage in favor of Israel reached 35 points, and remained stable for over twenty years.
The trend is confirmed with other data. According to the Pew Research Center, 60% of Americans now have a favorable opinion of Israel, compared to 53% the previous year and around 40% just four years ago. A twenty-point increase over a very short period. Looking in detail, the situation is even more telling: 80% of Democratic sympathizers express a negative opinion, but the phenomenon also cuts across the Republican electorate, where 57% of adults under 60 share this rejection.
The fracture is primarily generational. Among 18-29 year olds, rejection reaches 75% in the overall population, 85% among Democrats, and 64% among Republicans. Even in historically pro-Israeli groups, such as white evangelicals, younger generations show much lower levels of support than their elders. There is no longer a youth segment today that is clearly aligned with Israel. And this observation, more than describing the present, heralds the future.
For years, support for Israel in the United States was based on a combination of factors: strategic alliances, political affinities, and a narrative consolidated after 9/11, which tended to standardize the perception of the Middle East. This framework is crumbling. The new generations have witnessed something other than another war: the destruction of Gaza, live.
This is not just an ideological issue. It is also a matter of images and emotions. Scenes of massive destruction, bombings in densely populated areas, and trapped civilians have gradually undermined the traditional narrative. And this continues. Even in circles not inclined to radical positions, doubts are growing: do Israel’s actions truly serve common interests or involve the United States in conflicts that are not their own?
It is here that critics from very different backgrounds converge. On the left, the challenge focuses on human rights. In the Republican camp, particularly within the MAGA sphere, another critique emerges: the idea that Israel drags the United States into conflicts contrary to their direct interests. Influential figures in the conservative milieu like Tucker Carlson or Steve Bannon have contributed to spreading a discourse mixing isolationism, distrust of traditional US foreign policy alliances, and sometimes, shifts towards conspiracy theories.
This situation has produced a profound transformation: Israel is no longer a factor of consensus in US politics, but a subject of division. The question of military aid to Israel, long untouchable, is now subject to scrutiny. The planned $38 billion assistance memorandum until 2028 no longer seems untouchable and some voices advocate conditioning it, or even completely rethinking it.
However, the paradox is striking. Militarily, the cooperation between the two countries remains close and highly advanced. But this operational link coexists with an increasingly marked political and social erosion.
Because the real damages of this situation are not due to a single vote or a one-time survey. They lie in the gradual erosion of a solid support base within American society. If current trends are confirmed, Israel could find itself in a unprecedented situation in the short term: without stable and lasting political support in the two major US political parties.
In this case, the damage would no longer be collateral, but structural. And, unlike the immediate effects of war, its consequences would be long-lasting, redefining not only the relationship between the United States and Israel, but also the place of the Middle East in Washington’s global politics.
