Americans used to be steadfast in their for Israel. Those days are gone

I ran from the White House briefing room, past the portico entrance of the West Wing to our camera position on the lawn, and flung on an ear piece connecting me to the studio.

A moment later the presenter asked me about the comments we had just heard live from US President Donald Trump.

I said we were seeing a fundamental shift in a United States' policy position after decades of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

It was February this year, and Trump had just held talks with Israel's Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu - the first foreign leader since Trump's inauguration to be invited to the White House. The US president vowed that his country would take control of the Gaza Strip, having earlier pledged the territory would also be "cleaned out" and emptied of its Palestinian population.

Trump was grabbing the world's attention with a proposal that hardened his istration's for Israel and also upended international norms, flying in the face of international law. It marked an apex of the current Republican Party's relationship with Israel - sometimes described as "at all costs".

The alliance between the two countries had been thrust into the international spotlight after the Hamas attacks on Israel on 7 October 2023 and Israel's offensive in Gaza that followed.

During that war, the istration of President Joe Biden sent some $18bn (£13.5bn) worth of weapons to Israel, maintaining unprecedented levels of US backing. The period was marked by intensifying protests in the US, with many of those protesting being traditional Democrat leaning voters. The fallout became the focus of a bitter culture war centring on American attitudes towards Israel and the Palestinians. I covered demonstrations in which protesters repeatedly labelled Biden "Genocide Joe" – an accusation he always rejected.

At the time Donald Trump branded the protesters "radical-left lunatics" and the Trump istration is now targeting for deportation hundreds of foreign students who it accuses of antisemitism or for Hamas, a move being vigorously challenged in the courts.

But as a Democrat who could otherwise have expected the vote of many of those upset over his for Israel that was politically costly for Biden in a way not experienced by previous presidents or, indeed, Trump.

One of Biden's key decision makers over relations with Israel still wrestles with the decisions they took.

"My first reaction is just, I understand that this has evoked incredibly ionate feelings for Arab Americans, for non-Arab Americans, Jewish Americans," says Jake Sullivan, Biden's former national security adviser.

"There were two competing considerations: one was wanting to curb Israel's excesses, both with respect to civilian casualties and the flow of humanitarian assistance. The other was [...] wanting to make sure that we were not cutting Israel off from the capabilities it needed to confront its enemies on multiple different fronts."

He added: "The United States stood behind Israel materially, morally, and in every other way in those days following October 7th."

But opinion polls suggest for Israel among the American public is dwindling.

A Gallup survey taken in March this year found only 46% of Americans expressed for Israel (the lowest level in 25 years of Gallup's annual tracking) while 33% now said they sympathised with the Palestinians - the highest ever reading of that measure. Other polls have found similar results.

Surveys - with all their limitations - suggest the swing is largely among Democrats and the young, although not exclusively. Between 2022 and 2025, the Pew Research Center found that the proportion of Republicans who said they had unfavourable views of Israel rose from 27% to 37% (younger Republicans, aged under 49, drove most of that change).

The US has long been Israel's most powerful ally - ever since May 1948, when America was the first country to recognise the nascent State of Israel. But while US for Israel is extremely likely to continue long-term, these swings in sentiment raise questions over the practical extent and policy limits of the US's ironclad backing and whether the shifting sands of public opinion will eventually feed through to Washington, with real-world policy impacts.

To many, the close relationship between the US and Israel seems like a permanent, unshakeable part of the geopolitical infrastructure. But it wasn't always guaranteed - and at the very beginning largely came down to one man.

In early 1948, US President Harry S Truman had to decide on his approach to Palestine. The country was in the grip of sectarian bloodshed between Jews and Arab Palestinians after three decades of colonial rule by Britain, which had announced its intention to pull out. Truman was deeply moved by the plight of Jewish survivors of the Holocaust stranded in displaced persons camps in Europe.

In New York City, a young Francine Klagsbrun, who would later become an academic and historian of Israeli prime minister Golda Meir, watched her parents praying for a Jewish homeland.

"I grew up in a very Jewish home and a very Zionist home also," she explains. "So my older brother and I would go out and collect money to try to get England to open the doors. My brother would go on the subway trains, all the doors open on the train and he'd shout 'open, open, open the doors to Palestine'," she recalls.

Truman's istration was deeply divided over whether to back a Jewish state. The CIA and the Department of State cautioned against recognising a Jewish state. They feared a bloody conflict with Arab countries that might draw in the US, risking Cold War escalation with the Soviets.

Two days before Britain was due to pull out of Palestine, an explosive row took place in the Oval Office. Truman's domestic advisor Clark Clifford argued in favour of recognising a Jewish state. On the other side of the debate was Secretary of State George Marshall, a World War Two general whom Truman viewed as "the greatest living American".

The man Truman ired so much was vigorously opposed to the president immediately recognising a Jewish state because of his fears about a regional war - and even went as far as telling Truman he would not vote for him in the coming presidential election if he backed recognition.

But despite the moment of extraordinary tension, Truman immediately recognised the State of Israel when it was declared two days later by David Ben-Gurion, the country's first prime minister.

The historian Rashid Khalidi, a New York-born Palestinian whose family were expelled from Jerusalem by the British in the 1930s, says the US and Israel were fused together in part by shared cultural connections. From 1948 onwards, he says, the Palestinians had a critical diplomatic disadvantage in the US, with their claim to national self-determination sidelined in an unequal contest.

"On the one side, you had the Zionist movement led by people whom are European and American by origin… The Arabs had nothing similar," he says. "[The Arabs] weren't familiar with the societies, the cultures, the political leaderships of the countries that decided the fate of Palestine. How could you speak to American public opinion if you had no idea what America is like":[]}