There is an old saying in diplomacy: “the measure of a country’s strength is not how it treats its enemies, but how carefully it preserves its friends”. Military rivals are expected to disagree. Allies are expected to argue. The difference is that successful states know when to absorb criticism and when to dismiss it. Israel, however, appears to have blurred that distinction. In today’s Middle East, it is no longer enough for friends to supply billions of dollars in military aid, shield Israel from international censure and repeatedly defend it in global forums. They must also refrain from questioning its conduct. The slightest deviation from absolute solidarity is increasingly treated not as friendly counsel but as an act of betrayal.
Few countries have enjoyed the extraordinary strategic privileges that Israel has received since its establishment in 1948. American administrations of every political persuasion have armed it, financed it, defended it diplomatically and repeatedly exercised their veto at the UN Security Council on its behalf. Since the Second World War, Washington has committed well over $300 billion in inflation-adjusted assistance to Israel, making it the largest cumulative recipient of American foreign aid in history. Yet recent weeks have produced a curious spectacle: a country whose security architecture rests heavily upon American support directing an unusual degree of public anger towards Washington itself. The immediate trigger may have been disagreements over Iran and Gaza, but the pattern is becoming increasingly familiar.
This is what makes Israel’s current diplomatic posture so striking. It does not merely contest criticism from adversaries; it increasingly reacts with equal intensity when the criticism comes from those who have spent decades protecting its interests. European officials who once defended Israel now find themselves accused of abandoning it after expressing concern over Gaza. American politicians who remain committed to Israel’s security are denounced for questioning particular military decisions. Even figures inside Washington who have consistently supported Israel are discovering that support apparently expires the moment it is accompanied by disagreement.
In this case, there is an element of irony that cannot be ignored. The reason alliances form is that allies say hard truths to each other from time to time. There have been many cases in history of alliances being bolstered by honesty rather than undermined by it. But the political structure of Israel seems to be interpreting even modest forms of criticism as disloyalty. Any dispute turns into a diplomatic row. Requests for caution become claims of betrayal. Offers of concessions become appeasement of terrorists. It is a strategy that may satisfy domestic politics, but it is a curious way to preserve international friendships.
Perhaps the most revealing development is not that Israel continues to quarrel with its adversaries. That has always been part of its strategic environment. The more remarkable story is that it has begun quarrelling with those whose political, financial and military backing remains indispensable to its long-term security. There is an old diplomatic maxim that one should choose battles carefully. Israel increasingly seems determined to fight them all.
Israel’s frustration became visible after reports that Trump privately urged Netanyahu to avoid actions that could jeopardize ongoing diplomatic efforts with Iran. Instead of welcoming American attempts to prevent another regional war, many Israeli commentators portrayed Washington as retreating from its historic commitments. Some accused the administration of abandoning Israel precisely when it needed unconditional backing. Others directed unusually sharp criticism at Vice President JD Vance, whose argument that American policy should ultimately reflect American rather than Israeli strategic priorities was treated almost as an act of ideological apostasy. Such reactions reveal an uncomfortable assumption that has shaped Israeli strategic thinking for decades: American support is expected not merely to exist, but to remain entirely detached from American national interests.
The same pattern has unfolded across Europe. When EU foreign policy chief Kaja Kallas, hardly a longstanding critic of Israel, described aspects of Israeli policy through the language of apartheid and urged greater accountability over Gaza, the response from Jerusalem was swift and uncompromising. Years of European diplomatic cooperation suddenly counted for remarkably little. A relationship built over decades appeared expendable because one senior European official dared to articulate concerns that had already become commonplace within much of international public opinion. The message was unmistakable: previous solidarity offers no protection once criticism enters the conversation.
This is not simply an issue of diplomacy. But the matter is increasingly clashing with domestic politics in the United States itself. Recent polls indicate that a majority of young Americans below age thirty perceive the actions of Israel in Gaza negatively, while support for conditioning military assistance has grown well beyond traditional progressive constituencies. Among Generation Z, the political consensus that once insulated Israel from sustained criticism has weakened dramatically.
Yet much of Israel’s political response has been directed not towards understanding why these attitudes are changing, but towards blaming those documenting them. Universities are accused of radicalizing students. Social media is condemned for spreading anti-Israeli narratives. Journalists are dismissed as biased. International organizations are portrayed as irredeemably hostile. The possibility that public opinion might be responding to the realities of Gaza itself receives remarkably little attention. It is always easier to blame the messenger than
However, Israel appears neither willing nor able to recognize that the world sustaining its strategic assumptions has fundamentally changed. It has not learned because it has rarely been forced to learn, it is in no mood to learn now, and every indication suggests it will resist learning for as long as it can. Decades of unconditional American protection have conditioned Israel like a stubborn child, convinced that consequences are for others and that even its closest ally has no right to question its conduct. That is why its growing rage is directed not at its enemies but increasingly at Washington itself. Israel may ultimately succeed in alienating the very ally that has guaranteed its security for generations, and still refuse to alter its course. Such is the danger of strategic entitlement: when indulgence lasts too long, a state mistakes changing reality for betrayal and responds to the loss of unquestioning support with anger rather than introspection.