Why J Street Does Not Go Far Enough

by Harrison Berger | May 13, 2026 

An illegal auction of stolen Palestinian land at an elite Upper East Side synagogue, and the swift condemnations from groups like J Street launched against New Yorkers who attempted to protest it, reveal the Zionist rot at the heart of the American Jewish elite establishment that is bastardizing and corrupting the religion from within, and why liberal Zionist groups present only an impotent challenge to it.

“The Great Israeli Real Estate Event,” held last Tuesday at Park East Synagogue on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, was organized to assist prospective buyers in the United States, Canada, and the U.K. purchase land in the occupied West Bank, with the expo’s website advertising land for sale in Gush Etzion, a cluster of West Bank settlements illegal under international law. At least one company present, Harey Zahav, displayed maps and brochures advertising properties in Kfar Eldad, Karnei Shomron, and other West Bank settlements. Karnei Shomron is the subject of a $633 million Israeli government development agreement to nearly triple its population, an effort that Israeli Construction Minister Haim Katz called “a clear policy of settlement and building the land of our forefathers,” with a separate land designation designed to prevent Arab construction in the area.

In response to those illegal land sales, New Yorkers used their First Amendment rights to congregate at Park Avenue Synagogue to protest the contentious practice, with demonstrators arguing that it is inappropriate to use a religious institution to shield what is purely a political activity.

As Jewish Voice for Peace explained in their call to action statement, such “events are attempting to cynically shield themselves from protest by holding their sales at a synagogue. No one should enable the sale of stolen land, let alone a religious institution.”

Though instantly labeled antisemitic – the label reflexively deployed against any criticism of Israeli policy regardless of the identity of the critic, and one applied with particular cynicism given that many of the demonstrators outside Park East were themselves Jewish –  those protesters were fairly targeting what has become the broader ideological capture of elite American Jewish institutions by a foreign government engaged in genocide and apartheid, and their transformation into a financial backbone for the Greater Israel Project.

Since 2023, American synagogues and Jewish federations have raised millions for ZAKA – founded by an accused serial rapist known in Jerusalem’s Orthodox community as “the Haredi Jeffrey Epstein,” exposed by Haaretz for defrauding the Israeli government, and the originating source for the beheaded babies hoax Joe Biden and Donald Trump continue to repeat – and for its rival United Hatzalah, whose director told a room of Republican Jewish donors in Las Vegas that Hamas had baked a baby alive in an oven. The Jewish National Fund, a tax-exempt American nonprofit institutionally embedded in synagogues nationwide, has for decades purchased land from which Palestinians are legally barred. Hillel International sponsors American Jewish college students on trips that include volunteering at IDF military bases. The Central Fund of Israel, JGives, and Israel Gives conduct tax-deductible fundraising for IDF units in Gaza and the West Bank through similar Jewish institutional networks that gathered at Park East last Tuesday to sell stolen land.

Israel has always depended on diaspora wealth for its survival, which is precisely why its sprawling and aggressive lobby exists. Under those conditions, what B’Tselem, Israel’s own leading human rights organization, has called “a regime of Jewish supremacy from the river to the sea” cannot be seriously challenged without directly confronting the American Jewish institutional infrastructure that bankrolls it, which is precisely what New Yorkers attempted to do last Tuesday at Park East Synagogue.

But those New Yorkers, including many Jewish ones, who showed up to protest those illegal land sales were swiftly condemned – including by J Street, the self-described “pro-Israel, pro-peace” lobby that has pitched itself as the liberal alternative to AIPAC. “Two things can be true,” J Street wrote. “Protests that glorify violence, wave Hezbollah flags and chant for the destruction of Israel are wrong. Using our synagogues to promote home sales in West Bank settlements is also wrong.”

Americans are, of course, free to “glorify violence, wave Hezbollah flags, and chant for the destruction of Israel.” That is all permissible speech which anyone on American soil has the constitutionally protected right to utter, despite an intense ongoing effort by the Israel lobby to criminalize it.

But J Street’s response to those protests – condemning both the protesters and the land sales in equal measure – is indicative of the balancing act the organization has attempted to manage, one that is unstable and contradictory, with its guiding (or rather, mis-guiding) principle that Zionism can ultimately be reformed into something that is morally good, that the solution is a better Israeli government, and that the American Jewish elite institutions which have funded settlement expansion, armed soldiers to ethnically cleanse Gaza, and laundered Israel’s atrocity propaganda bears no meaningful responsibility for what Israel does.

That incoherence was highlighted by a recent memo put out by the group that ostensibly calls for an end to unconditional U.S. aid to Israel which, even while calling for an end to certain weapons transfers, insists that the United States should continue to “sell short-range air and ballistic missile defense capabilities to Israel,” including Iron Dome and David’s Sling and Arrow, interceptors and other system components, which J Street says are “purely defensive and have saved countless civilian lives by intercepting attacks from Hamas, Hezbollah, Iran and others.”

If the purpose of J Street’s new position is to change Israeli behavior, it is not a serious one; the Iron Dome system is what allows Israel to wage its wars of aggression across seven fronts simultaneously without fear of costly retaliation from the populations it targets.

Just as unserious is J Street’s neutered and impotent critique of Israel’s current campaign in Lebanon as “Netanyahu’s and Smotrich’s” war.

“Netanyahu and Smotrich,” the group’s Senior Vice President Ilan Goldenberg wrote in a May 1st statement, “are carrying out their West Bank and Gaza playbook in southern Lebanon. We’re failing to stop them.”

Since March 2, Israel has killed over 2,700 people in Lebanon and displaced more than 1.2 million. Israel’s defense minister demanded for southern Lebanon to be ethnically cleansed following “the model of Gaza” and images published by local journalists demonstrate that is exactly what IDF soldiers have done, with complete U.S. backing. Haaretz reports that Israeli soldiers are engaged in extensive looting of private homes and businesses in southern Lebanon, with many soldiers justifying theft by telling themselves the property will be demolished anyway. As Haaretz puts it, the soldiers are “stakeholders in destruction and in prolonging the war.”

Yet one would believe from J Street’s statement that Benjamin Netanyahu and Bezalel Smotrich are single-handedly demolishing entire villages in southern Lebanon — and not the conscript army and Israeli civilian volunteers who are committing those crimes on a daily basis.

The conclusions that J Street cannot bring itself to reach are now being stated openly by a growing number of American Jews, particularly younger ones, who have watched their communal institutions mobilize in defense of an apartheid state and the genocide it has just committed. That the protesters outside Park East are labeled antisemitic is a measure of how completely the establishment has fused Jewish identity with Israeli state policy – a fusion that younger American Jews are increasingly rejecting. Until American Jewish institutions can separate themselves from Zionism, the antisemitism charge will only grow cheaper, and the religion it has been weaponized to protect will grow hollower.

Harrison Berger is a correspondent at The American Conservative. He has contributed to Drop Site News, The Nation, and Responsible Statecraft. Previously, he was a researcher and producer for System Update with Glenn Greenwald. His work focuses on civil liberties and U.S. foreign policy. He studied Political Science and Russian Studies at Union College (NY).

Officials and Activists Are Working to Overturn Illinois’s Anti-BDS Law. Could Their Campaign Become a National Model?

Activists and lawmakers in Illinois are pushing to repeal the state's anti-BDS law, the nation's first such law. The campaign could serve as a model for more than 30 states that have since adopted anti-BDS laws.

By Michael Arria

May 12, 2026

Source: Mondoweiss

Illinois State Representative Abdelnasser Rashid (Photo: reprashid.com)

Since 2014, U.S. lawmakers have introduced over 200 bills targeting the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement. The vast majority of these efforts have failed to pass, but more than 30 states have adopted anti-BDS laws.

The first state-based measure to take specific action against Israel boycotts was passed in Illinois in 2015; 49-0 in the Senate and 102-0 in the House.  “This historic legislation is an important first step in the fight against boycotts of Israel and I hope other states move quickly to follow our lead,” declared then-Governor Bruce Rauner after signing it into law.

Rauner’s hope was quickly realized, as the right-wing American Legislative Exchange Council (ALEC) adopted the Illinois law as a model for pushing anti-BDS laws in other states. According to Palestine Legal, 38 states have enacted laws or executive orders designed to designed to penalize the boycott movement.

Many of these measures have had a significant economic impact. In 2021, the Illinois board overseeing state employee pensions voted to bar funds to the company Unilever over Ben & Jerry’s’s decision to limit sales of its ice cream in Israel. A a result of the ruling, the state was forced to sell between $150–200 million in pension holdings and activating nearly $1 billion in coordinated state divestments nationwide.

Now, Illinois officials and activists are pushing the Illinois Human Rights Advocacy Protection Act, or HB 2723. The bill would repeal the state’s anti-BDS law and potentially serve as a model for legislatures across the country. The effort currently has 22 cosponsors in Illinois House and 12 in state’s Senate.

The bill’s chief sponsor is Palestinian-American Rep. Abdelnasser Rashid.

At a recent hearing on the bill, Rashid explained how the the existing law violates the First Amendment.

“This law uses the retirement security of teachers, university workers, state employees and judges to punish peaceful protest,” said Rashid. It coerces American companies—including Illinois companies—into changing their lawful behavior to satisfy a foreign government. And it does all of this with no fiduciary duty, no published rules, no formal appeal, and no audit.

“Boycotts are foundational to who we are as Americans, are an instrumental tool in achieving democratic change, and are as American as baseball and apple pie,” declared Chicago attorney Richard Goldwasser. “Penalizing the politically motivated boycott..is of a piece with the growing fascism in our country.”

HB 2723 is opposed by a number of pro-Israel groups, including the Anti-Defamation League (ADL). During the hearing Rebecca Weininger, the Senior Regional Director ADL Midwest, claimed that “anti-Israel sentiment was powering the rise of anti-Jewish violence.”

“This committee should not tolerate antisemitism dressed up as a foreign policy critique,” said Weininger.

Andrew Herrera, a lobbyist for the Illinois Coalition for Human Rights told Mondoweiss that he expects the bill to succeed if state leadership has the political will to consider it.

“This is the kind of bill that once it moves, it wins,” said Herrera. “Were going to cruise through both chambers.”

“This is narrative fight,” he continued. “It has become impossible to publicly support genocide, ethnic cleansing, and needless war in Iran. It’s about shifting the national conversation and and showing people that this messaging works with voters.”

Recent polling backs up Herrera’s assertion.

According to Pew Research poll from last month, 60% of U.S. adults have a negative view of Israel, up from 53% last year. The same survey found that a majority of Democrats and Republicans under the age of 50 now view the country negatively.

Rebekah Levin, a local activist and Jewish Voice for Peace member who has been organizing around the repeal for years, also cited public opinion while speaking with Mondowiess, and said it had undeniably shifted the position of lawmakers.

“When we first started doing this work in the legislature our job was to educate people who voted for it,” she explained. “Over the past 2 years with the genocide in Gaza, the war in Iran and gas prices going up so high legislators finally saw this as something they could take action on and I would guess they see what’s happening nationwide, not just within the Democratic party at this point, but within the Republican party as well.”

Levin says that, if the anti-BDS law is repealed, it could serve as a model for other activists hoping to overturn such legislation in their states.

“People in other states have reached out to us,” she said. “They want to know what we did and how we did it. “If we overturn this it would be a boost to other states. It’s a powerful message. This is why pro-Israel groups are afraid of this passing. It’s about more than just Illinois.”

These sentiments were echoed by Rep. Rashid.

“Thats what makes the stakes so high,” said Rashid. “I believe this will have a domino effect, we are already talking to states about how to run a campaign. I’m hoping these conversations begin in earnest in other states as they find ways to repeal their laws. 

“It is a challenge as it would be many in other states, but I’m hopeful we will set a positive precedent of repealing this shameful law,” he added.

Illinois’s legislative sessions runs until May 31, and proponents of the bill are hoping it gets a hearing before then.

This article was originally published by Mondoweiss; please consider supporting the original publication, and read the original version at the link above.Email

Michael Arria

Michael Arria is a U.S. correspondent for Mondoweiss. His work has appeared in In These Times, The Appeal, and Truthout. He is the author of Medium Blue: The Politics of MSNBC.

No, It’s Not Antisemitic to Charge Israel With Genocide and It’s Dangerous to Say It Is

It posits that Israel represents all Jews and therefore criticism of Israel becomes criticism of the Jewish people and it denies the victims of Israel’s behaviors their legitimate right to speak of their pain.


Students protest in support of Palestine during the University of Michigan’s Spring Commencement ceremony on May 4, 2024 at Michigan Stadium in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
(Photo by Nic Antaya/Getty Images)

James Zogby
May 12, 2026

Common Dreams

Is it antisemitic to say that Israel is committing genocide in Gaza? More generally, is it “hurtful and insensitive” for someone to acknowledge the suffering that Israel has inflicted on the Palestinian people? In recent weeks, actions by two different institutions of higher learning brought these two questions to the forefront.

On April 15, a group of faculty and student organizations at Le Moyne College in Syracuse, New York, hosted celebrated Pulitzer Prize-winning writer Mosab Abu Toha to speak at the campus. During his appearance, to set the stage for the poems he was to read, Abu Toha shared his experiences living in Gaza during the start of the Israeli assault. He told of the members of his and his wife’s families who had been killed in Israel’s bombing campaigns. Entire families erased, neighborhoods laid waste, memories eradicated. It was, he stated, a genocide.

Days after event, Le Moyne’s president issued a statement apologizing for the discomfort that Abu Toha’s remarks may have created for some in the college community. The letter noted that his use of the word genocide in connection with the state of Israel caused “real hurt” and was leaving “some members of our community to feel unwelcome.” The president concluded by affirming that “antisemitism, along with all forms of bigotry and hate, has no place at Le Moyne.”

Abu Toha responded to the president’s letter with an “open letter” of his own, rejecting the implication that using the word genocide to describe Israel’s actions could be termed antisemitic.

It is worth noting that the assumption underlying this assertion fits hand-in-glove with the claim of real antisemites who argue that the consequences of Israel’s bad behaviors can legitimately be visited on all Jews.

“Seriously?” he asked. “Are the crimes of the Israeli state representative of all Jewish people? I personally refuse to believe that is the case… I never used the word ‘Jewish’ during the entire event; I refuse to conflate the faith of Judaism with the actions of Israel.”

He concluded: “If anyone told you they felt ‘hurt’ because I used the word genocide, then I ask you: How should I feel? How should my wife feel after losing her father? How should my three children feel after losing their grandfather?”

And then, this past weekend, the University of Michigan held its commencement ceremonies. One of the speakers was the president of the faculty senate. He began his short but eloquent remarks by noting that while the university celebrates its athletes and their accomplishments, there are other heroes who should also be celebrated—those who challenged the stale and unjust status quo of the university by opening the doors to inclusion and understanding.

He began by mentioning a young woman who in 1858 challenged the school’s opposition to enrolling women as students. He went on to note the first Jewish faculty member and the Black Action Movement that pressed the university to expand their curriculum to honor the black experience, and closed by recognizing the “student activists… who sacrificed much to open our hearts to the injustices happening in Gaza.”

His remarks were so beautifully constructed and presented that they elicited a roar of approval from those in attendance. The video of the event appearing on the university’s website shows his colleagues and administrators applauding the speech.

Within a few days, the same university president who is seen applauding issued a letter denouncing the professor’s speech as “hurtful and insensitive” and “inappropriate.”

(To avoid “further controversy” the university removed the video of the event—in which the president is seen applauding the speech—from the website).

The question that must be asked, in addition to those noted above, is what is the logic behind this claim that the remarks of both Abu Toha and the faculty senate president were hurtful to the point of being antisemitic?

The place to begin is by asking: “What is antisemitism?” The simplest and clearest definition is that antisemitism is hatred of, stereotyping of, or discrimination against Jewish people because they are Jews. Like other forms of bigotry, it claims that there are inherent characteristics or behaviors that are shared by all Jews, simply because they are Jewish.

Given this, the only way that criticism of Israeli actions can constitute antisemitism is if the critic implies that Israel does what it does because it is Jewish and “that’s the way Jews are,” or if the person making the claim of antisemitism maintains that because Israel says it is a Jewish state that whatever it does represents all Jews and therefore criticism of Israeli policies is the same as criticism of the Jewish people.

This latter position has long been propagated by pro-Israel organizations. Until recently, this proposition was mostly rejected, but it has now come to gain acceptance. It is dangerous precisely because it posits that Israel represents all Jews and therefore criticism of Israel becomes criticism of the Jewish people. It is worth noting that the assumption underlying this assertion fits hand-in-glove with the claim of real antisemites who argue that the consequences of Israel’s bad behaviors can legitimately be visited on all Jews. Interestingly, this is the same logic that has long plagued Arab Americans who have been victims of hate crimes because it was claimed that their ethnicity or religion made them legitimate targets in response to the actions of some Arab groups in the Middle East.

The other consequence is that, as Abu Toha correctly notes, it denies the victims of Israel’s behaviors their legitimate right to speak of their pain and call out, with specificity, the agent who caused it because of the hurt that might cause those who support Israel—or in the case of the University of Michigan, to deny the right of students to empathize with and demand that Palestinian victims be heard, because acknowledging Palestinian pain might also cause hurt feelings.


Our work is licensed under Creative Commons (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0). Feel free to republish and share widely.


James Zogby
Dr. James J. Zogby is the author of Arab Voices (2010) and the founder and president of the Arab American Institute (AAI), a Washington, D.C.-based organization which serves as the political and policy research arm of the Arab American community. Since 1985, Dr. Zogby and AAI have led Arab American efforts to secure political empowerment in the U.S. Through voter registration, education and mobilization, AAI has moved Arab Americans into the political mainstream. Dr. Zogby has also been personally active in U.S. politics for many years; in 1984 and 1988 he served as Deputy Campaign manager and Senior Advisor to the Jesse Jackson Presidential campaign. In 1988, he led the first ever debate on Palestinian statehood at that year's Democratic convention in Atlanta, GA. In 2000, 2008, and 2016 he served as an advisor to the Gore, Obama, and Sanders presidential campaigns.
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A Future Beyond Israeli Genocide in Palestine

By Sonia Boulos, Raz Segal 

May 11, 2026

Source: Jacobin

Image by Jaber Jehad Badwan/Wikimediacommons, licensed via CC BY 4.0

In the last two and a half years, Israel has intensified its core project of realizing a “Greater Israel.” Its ongoing drive to eliminate Palestinians since the 1948 Nakba has escalated into full-scale genocidal violence in Gaza. The intensification of Israel’s colonial violence has also included a forced displacement campaign in the West Bank unprecedented since the 1967 war, a renewed assault on the political rights of Palestinians in Israel, and the transformation of Israeli prisons into a network of torture camps in which unspeakable cruelty is the order of the day.

Israel’s large‑scale attacks on Lebanon and Iran, and its use of the “Gaza doctrine” — particularly in Lebanon — have made the systematic targeting of civilians, neighborhoods, schools, and hospitals, and the infliction of mass destruction, suffering, and death, a regional reality. At the same time, the US-Israel war on Iran has caused an international economic crisis that underlines how genocidal regimes pose a threat on a global scale.

It is difficult to imagine a future in the region beyond this horrific reality without the Israeli state, supported by a large majority of its Jewish citizens, facing accountability. Accountability demands centering the experiences and knowledge of Palestinians confronting Israeli elimination, yet the Jewish supremacy and anti-Palestinian racism that fuel the genocide also drive the silencing of Palestinians and their activism to end it. The result is that mostly Jewish voices critical of Israel manage to gain attention through the cracks of this censorship and suppression, though they offer little in the way of thinking about accountability.

This is the case, most recently, with Israeli-American Holocaust scholar Omer Bartov’s latest book, Israel: What Went Wrong? Just out in English and slated to appear in numerous other languages, the book asks readers to think about Israel’s ongoing genocide in Gaza through a narrative that begins with the Holocaust and antisemitism. Bartov argues that Zionism emerged as a project of liberating Jews from persecution and destruction, but it changed with the establishment of Israel in 1948, when it turned into the state ideology, becoming increasingly exclusionary and violently ethnonationalist, ultimately culminating in genocide.

In fact, Palestinians and even Zionists understood Zionism as an exclusionary, settler colonial, and violent ethnonationalist ideology well before 1948. We know this, for instance, from the work of Palestinian scholars like sociologist Areej Sabbagh-Khoury, who shows in her book Colonizing Palestine: The Zionist Left and the Making of the Palestinian Nakba how left-wing Zionists, under British colonial auspices, took an active role in the dispossession of Palestinians through the establishment of kibbutz colonies in the Jezreel Valley/Marj Ibn Amer frontier area in the 1920s and ’30s.

If Zionists on the left talked about coexistence with Palestinians even as they displaced them, Zionists on the right dispensed early on with such discourse. Ze’ev Jabotinsky’s well-known 1923  essay “The Iron Wall” set the tone with an explicit acknowledgment of Zionism as a settler-colonial movement that aims to remove indigenous Palestinian Arabs to create a Jewish state.

It is impossible to understand the 1948 Nakba without considering this eliminationist Zionist consensus that had formed in the preceding three decades and which informed Zionist settlement and actions well before the Holocaust. The 1948 Nakba furthermore marked the birth of the Israeli state as clearly exclusionary, racist, and violent; to adapt the language of Bartov’s title, the Israeli state emerged as foundationally wrong.

Bartov, who counts among erstwhile liberal Zionists, rejects this position. His argument about the Gaza genocide functions in a similar way as his argument about Zionism. He eventually found it difficult during Israel’s live streamed genocide to dismiss the charge of genocide. For him, the invasion of Rafah in May 2024 signaled Israel’s turn to genocide. This means that Israel’s campaign in its initial months — its deadliest phase — was not genocidal, according to Bartov, even as he acknowledges that Israeli political and military leaders expressed clear genocidal intent at the time. This qualification of the genocide determination reflects Bartov’s rosy view of pre-state Zionism, as it aims to conceal the historical continuity between the eliminatory logic of Zionism and the Nakba and the genocidal violence unfolding in Gaza since October 2023.

Bartov argues, accordingly, that “the focus on the functional reality of [Zionist] settlement in Palestine largely misses the ideological and emotional motivations of this [Zionist] movement, as well as the underlying self‑perception of generations of Zionist activists and supporters.” Within this narrative, the victims of Zionism — now in its genocidal phase — have erred by judging Zionism through their lived experience of its dispossession and violence; instead, they should have been sufficiently “attuned to the aspirations of Europe’s Jewish refugees.” This framing renders the Palestinian and Arab anti‑colonial struggle — beginning with the Arab Revolt of 1936, or even earlier — a hostile act of aggression against Jewish settlers in Palestine, thereby creating a false equivalence between the colonized and the colonizer.

We also know that while Jewish refugees were seeking a sanctuary, the Zionist movement funneling them to Palestine aimed for their migration to create a Jewish demographic majority that would eventually facilitate Zionist control of the country. Zionists thus turned refugees into settlers. What is more, at least some of Europe’s Jewish refugees who arrived in Palestine during or immediately after the 1948 war understood this, and that the fledgling Jewish state reproduced the kind of exclusionary violence that they had experienced in Europe. It was a very bitter liberation for them, if they perceived it as such at all.

However one understands the multiple perspectives of Jewish refugees in 1948, Bartov’s approach affirms racialized epistemic hierarchies, sidelining the perspectives, knowledge, and voices of Palestinians who have faced Israel’s colonial and eliminatory violence before and after 1948, including those who have identified Israel’s attack on Gaza as genocide from the very beginning.

Acknowledgement Without Accountability?

Racialized hierarchies shape not only how the causes of the genocide in Gaza are discussed, but also how pathways forward are imagined. One would expect the recognition of genocide to be followed by a clear call for justice and accountability. This includes the right of victims of colonial violence and genocide to see those who targeted their loved ones and society brought to justice: those who committed the crimes, those who ordered them, and those who incited them. Victims are also entitled to an official account of what happened. The state itself must be held accountable for these grave crimes.

One is thus left to wonder why Bartov’s book contains no clear call for legal accountability, especially in light of the recent piercing of the veil of impunity that has long shielded Israel from accountability for crimes committed against the Palestinian people.

Why does he not explicitly support accountability efforts before the International Criminal Court? Bartov does refer to the 2024 Advisory Opinion issued by the International Court of Justice (ICJ) on the illegality of Israel’s presence in the West Bank and Gaza, but he does so without explaining that it calls on third states neither to recognize nor to aid or assist in maintaining this illegal situation — thereby opening a window of opportunity for the imposition of effective measures to pressure Israel to cease and remedy its violations of peremptory norms of international law. Instead, Bartov warns that if Israel does not change course, it will face isolation akin to that suffered by apartheid South Africa.

Many liberal Zionists share Bartov’s concern. The celebrated Israeli writer David Grossman, for example, told the Italian daily la Repubblica in early August 2025 that “Israel’s curse began with the occupation of the Palestinian territories after 1967” — thus erasing the 1948 Nakba — and that he remains “desperately committed” to the two-state solution; that is, a Jewish state and a Palestinian state with “no weapons.” Mainstream liberal media also seems desperately committed to Nakba denial and a Jewish state, even if cursed, which explains the space it affords to people like Bartov on opinion pages, while its reporting largely reproduces anti-Palestinian racism.

Bartov does go further than other liberal Zionists in criticizing Israel and Zionism. He now sees no future for Zionism, as it has become an ideology of genocide, although he rejects the label “anti-Zionist.” Consequently, he cannot imagine a future without a Jewish state, albeit different from the current one. For this sort of criticism and his belated recognition of the Gaza genocide, Bartov has faced intense hostility, including being labeled a Jewish “traitor” and other epithets commonly hurled at Jews who refuse to repeat the talking points of the Israeli state and major Jewish communal organizations.

Yet his visions for Palestine/Israel are largely centered on salvaging Israel as a Jewish-majority state from a feared future or “nightmare” marked by the exodus of the educated and skilled, increasing international isolation, and the prospect of sanctions. What remains unaddressed is the moral and political imperative of accountability for historical and structural injustices inflicted on Palestinians by the Zionist settler‑colonial regime since its inception.

Bartov’s “fundamental rethinking of the relationship between the seven million Jews and seven million Palestinians who live between the river and the sea” mostly entails ending the war in Gaza, rebuilding it, and replacing Hamas’s control of the Strip, with the ultimate goal of creating a Palestinian state in the West Bank and Gaza that would be viable only as part of a confederation with Israel. In this scenario, based on Dahlia Scheindlin’s writing, Gaza could become “the Dubai of the Mediterranean,” and a confederation model is presented as an alternative to the failed Oslo logic of the two‑state solution.

According to this vision, Palestinian refugees forcibly displaced during the ongoing Nakba may return as Palestinian citizens to the West Bank or Gaza, whereas in Israel they may be granted only residency rights. Their “rights” inside Israel will be analogous to those afforded to Israeli Jewish colonizers living in the West Bank: they would retain their Israeli citizenship and be permitted to reside in the West Bank not as citizens, but as residents, provided they accept Palestinian sovereignty.

Palestinian refugees forcibly expelled from their homeland are thus granted the same package of rights inside Israel as those guaranteed to West Bank settlers inside a future Palestinian state. According to this vision, Palestinian refugees may return to Haifa, Yaffa, Safad, and Lydda as tolerated guests, not as beneficiaries of the right to self-determination in the homeland from which Israel had expelled them. While they might be allowed to reside there and vote in municipal elections, they would have no right to benefit from the land and resources that belonged to them before the Nakba for the development of their communities. Nor would they be recognized as part of the political community entrusted with determining the political, economic, and cultural future of their own homeland.

Bartov misses how relegating Palestinian refugees to a status comparable to that of West Bank settlers — active participants in a criminal settlement policy — reaffirms a colonial logic, especially when this vision says nothing about restitution or reparations.

It is telling that Bartov draws on a recent scheme formulated by Scheindlin, an Israeli Jew who grew up in the United States, even though a Palestinian alternative exists: the plan by the Palestine Land Society, under the leadership of Salman Abu Sitta. It contains detailed and viable plans for refugee return, developed in consultation with refugees and their descendants, that allow return inside the Green Line without requiring any major relocation of Israelis.

“Alleviating the fear of demographic imbalances,” as Bartov puts it, lies at the heart of the plan that he supports. In practical terms, this means that more than thirteen million Palestinians would be granted 22 percent of Mandatory Palestine to exercise their collective national aspirations and rights, while approximately two million Palestinians who hold Israeli citizenship are reduced to a minority, not an indigenous group entitled to self-determination.

A similar position has been adopted by the political movement Land for All. In its program, the movement affirms that the State of Palestine would have the sovereign power to grant citizenship to Palestinian refugees. Upon receiving Palestinian citizenship, refugees would be able to travel freely to Israel “for work, tourism, and residence.” More importantly, to avoid “inundation,” an agreement would be reached on the number of Palestinian refugees eligible for residency in Israel.

Such arrangements would secure a body politic where Israeli Jews remain a majority within 78 percent of historic Palestine, controlling its natural resources. This scheme reenacts the logic of Jewish supremacy that Zionists have long invoked to justify the forced displacement and political and physical elimination of Palestinians. The language of demography is the language of dominance.

Jewish Supremacist Frameworks

It is not surprising, then, that Bartov hails Israel’s Declaration of Independence as a missed opportunity, failing to see how it officially established a regime of Jewish supremacy by excluding Palestinians from its “We the People.” It recognizes only the exclusive natural right of the Jewish people to the land, as if Mandatory Palestine were terra nullius. Palestinians who had survived the Nakba and remained in what became Israel are treated merely as “minorities,” nominally entitled not to collective national or sovereign rights but only to “complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race, or sex.”

One might have expected the genocidal escalation of the Zionist settler‑colonial project to expose the catastrophic implications of this logic of supremacy, leading critics of Israel to abandon it once and for all. Instead, we are once again confronted with attempts to prioritize the security concerns of the colonizers at the expense of the colonized, now articulated through the language of demography. The security concerns of the colonized — and the imperative of providing the victims of colonial genocidal violence with the international legal guarantees of non‑repetition — are either entirely absent or, at best, relegated to the margins.

Bartov concludes his discussion of this vision with a rather odd comment on how, absent serious US pressure on Israel, Germany could serve as the main force pushing Israel in this direction. The reality is that Germany has worked mostly to push Israel in the genocide direction — by providing Israel with military support, depicting Palestinians as Nazis, and violently silencing and shutting down pro-Palestinian activism, including police violence against Palestinians and anti-Zionist Jews on the streets of German cities. The ongoing case in the ICJ that Nicaragua brought against Germany in March 2024 for complicity with Israel’s genocide in Gaza (which Bartov does mention) renders his comment particularly problematic.

Given this qualified recognition of the genocide in Gaza, marked by the absence of any call for legal accountability and a political vision capable of comprehensively addressing the ongoing harms of the Nakba, it is hard to escape the conclusion that the outrage expressed by Bartov and other liberals over what Israel has become is not, in fact, centered on Palestinians. Rather, it remains an effort to salvage Israel, within a Jewish supremacist framework, from what liberal Zionists, however they call themselves, view as a self‑destructive course.

This article was originally published by Jacobin; please consider supporting the original publication, and read the original version at the link above.

What Has Really Changed In French Nuclear Doctrine – Analysis

France's President Emmanuel Macron during his speech on March 2, 2026 at Ile Longue with the French Navy nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarine Le Temeraire in the background. Photo Credit: Screenshot French presidency video

May 9, 2026 
Hudson Institute
By Tsiporah Fried


“What you see before you is a precious legacy of which we are the custodians, and which we will continue to sustain with determination,” declared President Emmanuel Macron on March 2, 2026, standing before the massive dry-docked hull of a Triomphant-class submarine in Île Longue.[1] The formulation deliberately anchored French nuclear policy in continuity—a shared strategic matrix that transcends partisan divides and that the country has tasked every president since 1959 with preserving and strengthening. Macron’s speech underscored France’s distinct nuclear history and reflected a doctrine remarkably stable in its core principles thanks to decades of strategic experience.

Yet far from being a routine reaffirmation, this moment marks a turning point in posture and expression. Without overturning the Gaullist foundations of deterrence, Macron introduced adjustments in scale, signaling, and scope that collectively amount to a qualitative shift in how the French conceive and communicate deterrence.

In that sense, the Île Longue address stands as a landmark moment in the history of French nuclear doctrine—not because it broke with the past but because it reinterpreted the doctrine’s legacy under new strategic conditions.

Macron is decisively anchoring his nuclear doctrine in what Admiral Pierre Vandier has described as the “third nuclear age.”[2] It is a world that increasingly blurs the boundaries between war and peace and between external and internal threats; a world defined by systemic competition and the return of great-power ambitions; a world in which, after nonproliferation efforts dominated for decades, nuclear weapons are again becoming a structuring factor of power and, with a more dangerous and unstable multipolar character, are returning to the very center of strategic balance.

To fully grasp the significance of this shift, one should first return to the origins of French nuclear doctrine.

The Birth of the French Nuclear Doctrine

General Charles de Gaulle, president of the French Republic from 1959 to 1969, laid the intellectual and strategic foundations of the nation’s nuclear doctrine. Scholars widely regard his speech on French defense at the École Militaire on November 3, 1959, as the defining political moment when he articulated France’s strategic vision at the dawn of the Fifth Republic. De Gaulle argued that the emergence of nuclear parity between the United States and the Soviet Union had fundamentally altered the credibility of the American nuclear guarantee. In such a context, he believed France needed its own finite nuclear force capable of deterring any attack against its territory while preserving full strategic autonomy in its potential use.

If de Gaulle’s vision of France’s military independence rested on the existence of “a strike force that could be deployed at any time and anywhere,”[3] analysts should understand him more as the political champion of French nuclear strategy than as its sole intellectual architect. The deeper doctrinal thinking emerged from a group of military strategists who became known as the “four generals of the apocalypse”[4]—Generals André Beaufre, Pierre Gallois, Lucien Poirier, and Charles Ailleret. Their writings and strategic concepts shaped the conceptual framework of French nuclear deterrence in ways that strategists continue to underappreciate, particularly in Anglo-American strategic literature.

Beaufre focused on the question of the stability of nuclear deterrence and, following American research—notably that of Herman Kahn[5]—on the problems of escalation to which the Cuban Missile Crisis had drawn attention. Beaufre situated himself within a general strategic framework of bilateral deterrence between adversaries possessing equivalent capabilities.

Gallois, perhaps the most prolific of the four, developed the theory of indirect strategy and the notion of a strategy of dissuasion du faible au fort—deterrence of the strong by the weak—which gave intellectual legitimacy to a small but independent nuclear force.

Poirier contributed a rigorous philosophical and strategic architecture to the doctrine, theorizing the conditions and graduated logic of nuclear engagement. Ailleret, as chief of staff of the Armed Forces, operationalized these concepts and notably introduced the doctrine of deterrence tous azimuts—in all directions—signaling France’s refusal to subordinate its nuclear posture to any alliance framework.

At that time, de Gaulle’s speech announced the creation of what he called the force de frappe (strike force). France had not yet conducted its first nuclear test, yet it had already clearly established the doctrinal framework. The strategic concept underpinning the force de frappe is countervalue deterrence—the capacity to inflict such severe damage on an adversary’s population and economic centers that it would deter even a more powerful opponent from launching an attack, regardless of its own destructive capabilities.


In 1963, de Gaulle reaffirmed this logic, stating that “deterrence is proportional to the stake.”[6] In other words, deterrence exists as soon as a nuclear capability convinces a potential adversary that aggression would bring consequences so severe that it simply would not be worth the risk.

Deterrence Is the Core

Embedded within the framework of international law, French nuclear deterrence is at the core of French sovereignty and national defense.

France supports the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, the cornerstone of the global security architecture. It was also one of the first nuclear-armed states, alongside the United Kingdom, to sign and ratify the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty, and it has permanently dismantled its testing sites. Since then, the design and reliability of weapons rest exclusively on scientific simulation, which high-level computing capabilities and experimental facilities have made possible. Through these irreversible measures and its active engagement in arms control regimes, France anchors its deterrence within a logic of strategic stability and progressive disarmament.

Because it concentrates unparalleled destructive power, France has made clear that nuclear force imposes requirements of transparency, legality, and ethics.

Following de Gaulle’s vision and a principle of strategic autonomy, French deterrence is independent. It guarantees that the protection of the nation’s vital interests depends on no foreign power. Since it aims to protect the nation against the gravest threats, France can neither share nor delegate its design and implementation.

The Commissariat à l’Énergie Atomique et aux Énergies Alternatives (Alternative Energies and Atomic Energy Commission) develops nuclear warheads in France. Fissile materials come from the recycling of the existing national stockpile, with no external dependency. The missiles, submarines, and carrier aircraft—including the Rafale—are also designed under full French control. The Delegation générale de l’Armement (DGA, French defense procurement) oversees all these programs to guarantee total technological sovereignty.

Two Complementary Components

French deterrence rests on two complementary components: oceanic and airborne.

The oceanic component, permanent and invisible, forms the heart of the system. Nuclear-armed ballistic missile submarines (SSBNs) patrol the ocean depths continuously. Undetectable, they guarantee the second-strike capability even in the event of a surprise attack on national territory.

The airborne component, more visible and flexible, makes it possible to send a clear strategic signal and to offer a graduated response. The airborne component has two essential characteristics:
It is visible. The Strategic Air Forces and the Nuclear Naval Air Force regularly place their Rafale aircraft on operational readiness. Crews train under realistic conditions without carrying nuclear payloads, and other countries can observe their activities. This visibility helps to send a strategic signal to any potential adversary.
It is gradual. In the event of a major crisis, raising the airborne component to alert status can send graduated signals of resolve. Even before a strike package takes off, these measures bear witness to the gravity of the situation. The air forces can still recall an aircraft after it is airborne and until it has received the nuclear engagement order. This recall capability gives the airborne component a unique function in escalation management.

This two-legged model ensures flexibility and survivability as well as uncertainty for any potential adversary: France will answer every attack against its vital interests.

If the oceanic and airborne components give substance to the operational credibility of deterrence, this credibility is also scientific, technological, and industrial. Through simulation programs, France maintains a unique expertise guaranteeing the reliability of weapons designed to penetrate the most advanced defense systems.

The coherence between political decision, operational forces, and industrial means underpins the overall credibility of French deterrence.

Five Key Characteristics

The French deterrence model is built on five inseparable characteristics.

1. Strict sufficiency. France is not engaged in any arms race. It seeks neither parity nor quantitative superiority over other nuclear powers. Its arsenal evolves solely to ensure the effectiveness of deterrence against adversarial threats and defense systems, in accordance with the president’s directions. France has tailored its nuclear forces to inflict damage that any potential aggressor would deem unacceptable—nothing more, nothing less.

2. Independence of decision. In France, a single authority bears responsibility for deciding when to employ a nuclear weapon: the president of the republic. According to the Constitution of the Fifth Republic, only the president can order the use of nuclear weapons. Elected by direct universal suffrage every five years and a guardian of national sovereignty, they hold the ultimate legitimacy for a decision that engages the survival of the country.[7]Unlike North Atlantic Treaty Organization nuclear sharing, France has not embedded its force in an alliance command structure. Its credibility rests precisely on its independence: An adversary must assume that France would act even if allies hesitated.

3. Operational credibility. Nuclear forces must always be capable of responding to an authenticated presidential order, regardless of the circumstances. This requires weapons systems that are reliable and constantly updated to address changes in the operational environment.


4. Permanent presence at sea. Since the 1970s, at least one SSBN has been on permanent patrol. Invisible and undetectable, it forms the heart of the second-strike capability.

5. A strictly defensive purpose. French doctrine excludes any logic of conquest. The country aims nuclear weapons exclusively at preventing major aggression against its vital interests. They have an exclusively defensive vocation.

But France’s purpose is not to eliminate all conflict. Below the nuclear threshold, tensions and conflicts persist. Adversaries may seek to test the limits of deterrence or to act in gray zones. This is why French doctrine deliberately maintains ambiguity regarding the exact perimeter of vital interests. The strategic uncertainty makes any attempt at circumvention “from below” more difficult.

Facing an adversary who crosses a threshold France has deemed critical while gambling on its misjudgment, the president of the republic can order the possibility of a unique, nonrenewable nuclear warning. The intention is for this ultimate signal to convey that the conflict has radically changed in nature and has entered the domain of deterrence.

A Doctrine Faithful to Its Gaullist Foundations

Despite a broad consensus in support of military nuclear deterrence, the evolution of both doctrine and posture has periodically been the subject of debate. After the September 11 attacks, counterterrorism became the overriding strategic priority. Along with a renewed interest in missile defense, it raised questions about the continued relevance of maintaining a costly nuclear arsenal that appeared ill-suited to emerging threats and vulnerable to new strategic blind spots.

The debates were, however, limited—despite the global movement to denuclearize the world[8] or because of its failure. And continuity remains the most accurate lens through which to understand how successive French presidents have approached nuclear deterrence. Since its formulation under President de Gaulle, French leaders have steadily adapted the doctrine to cope with major strategic shifts—from the bipolar balance of the Cold War to the rise of nuclear proliferation, and more recently the return of high-intensity conflict in Europe. They have done so without ever straying from its core principles.

These foundational pillars have remained unchanged since the late 1960s: strict sufficiency, the president’s sole authority over nuclear use, operational credibility, deliberate ambiguity regarding vital interests, and the maintenance of a force with two permanent components. What analysts have often described as “adaptations” by successive presidents are, in most cases, adjustments in expression rather than in structure. Whether in Jacques Chirac’s 2006 speech, which paved the way to deterrence of state-sponsored terrorism,[9] or in Emmanuel Macron’s 2020 address emphasizing a European dimension,[10] the underlying architecture has remained intact. Doctrine endures; its language evolves.

That said, limited but meaningful shifts have occurred at the margins:French leaders have progressively asserted the European dimension of vital interests (such as in Macron’s 2020 speech). But France has stopped well short of any form of nuclear sharing or extended deterrence commitment.

The elimination of the land-based component, with the retirement of the missiles on the Plateau d’Albion in 1996, constituted a genuine structural change—albeit one now three decades old.

A renewed emphasis on the airborne component reflects a more explicit role in escalation management and signaling without altering the fundamental logic of deterrence.

The United Kingdom and France signed the Northwood Declaration, a bilateral agreement to coordinate their nuclear deterrence strategies, on July 10, 2025. It marked a significant step toward nuclear cooperation between the two countries in which they committed to coordinating nuclear policies and operations in joint planning.[11] Russia clearly took notice.[12] This landmark moment announced the shift to come in 2026.
From 2020 to 2026: Toward Forward Deterrence

Traditionally, a French president delivers a single major speech on nuclear deterrence during their term, making such moments particularly significant. In this regard, the evolution between Macron’s 2020 speech and his address on March 2, 2026, at Île Longue is notable.

The concept of forward deterrence represents a shift that a single formula can summarize: extending the strategic depth of French deterrence to the European strategic space without sharing decision-making authority, but complexifying an adversary’s understanding of the situation. In this perspective, France reaffirms that it does not confine its “vital interests” strictly to its national territory while maintaining full sovereignty over nuclear use.

What distinguishes the 2026 articulation is the effort to align rhetorical evolution with posture. The European dimension is no longer only a matter of political signaling or dialogue; it is increasingly embedded in how France communicates and positions deterrence.

Through forward deterrence, Macron has clearly moved from suggesting that France’s deterrent has a “European dimension” (2020) to signaling that it should function as a central pillar of European security in practice. The purpose is political and strategic: to reinforce deterrence credibility by demonstrating that aggression against Europe would implicate France’s vital interests.

Three concrete developments distinguish the 2026 posture.

1. Quantitative Arsenal Expansion—A Structural Inflection


By announcing the first increase in France’s nuclear warhead stockpile since 1992, President Emmanuel Macron departed from more than three decades of gradual, unilateral reductions. This was not a rhetorical adjustment but a material capability decision with long-term implications. It signaled a possible reinterpretation—if not a quiet erosion—of the traditional principle of strict sufficiency, whereby France maintained the smallest arsenal compatible with credible deterrence and avoided counterforce-oriented postures. Notably, the term itself was absent from official language.

Moreover, Macron announced an end to transparency regarding the number of nuclear warheads.

Major modernization decisions accompany this shift: the launch of a third generation of SSBNs, the development of the fourth iteration of the M51 submarine-launched ballistic missile, and the initiation of the ASN4G program—a hypersonic missile intended to equip the future airborne nuclear component, including next-generation Dassault Rafale standards. France has scheduled the ASN4G for delivery at the same time as the Rafale F5.

2. A Structured European Opening—Calibrated but Tangible

The March 2026 speech at Île Longue follows months of discreet consultations that have translated into a more concrete strategic rapprochement with selected European partners. The shift remains under careful control: France is neither extending a formal nuclear guarantee nor diluting its decision-making autonomy. Instead, it is proposing a graduated framework of integration—including structured strategic dialogue, participation in nuclear-related exercises, enhanced transparency, and cooperation on early warning as well as air and missile defense.

Macron explicitly identified a core group of partners—the United Kingdom, Germany, Poland, the Netherlands, Belgium, Greece, Sweden, and Denmark—in which Germany occupies a central role. The creation of a Franco-German Nuclear Steering Group, which Macron and Chancellor Friedrich Merz announced immediately after the speech, marked a significant step. Merz also indicated that Germany would provide conventional support to French nuclear exercises before the end of the year.

3. Forward Deployment—An Evolution in Posture

France is now opening the possibility of forward deployment of nuclear-capable assets beyond its national territory. This represents a notable departure from its traditionally strict territorial posture. In practical terms, it could station nuclear-capable Rafale aircraft on allied soil, introducing a new dimension of visibility and signaling into French deterrence.
A Shift in Posture or a Doctrinal Revolution?

Taken together, these developments do not amount to a doctrinal rupture. However, they do reflect a clear evolution in posture, scale, and European articulation, marking a shift from restrained continuity toward a more assertive and outward-facing deterrence framework.


The 2026 speech represents a genuine doctrinal evolution—but one that stops well short of a revolution. To appreciate its true scope, it is worth following Bruno Tertrais’s method of reading not only what was said but what was deliberately left unsaid.[13] In official rhetoric, silences can be as revealing as declarations.

As Tertrais notes, Macron introduced a studied ambiguity into several traditionally well-defined concepts. He did not specify the scope of France’s vital interests, whereas other official statements have anchored them firmly to French territory, population, and sovereignty. The phrase extreme circumstances of self-defense, a standard fixture of French nuclear language, was notably absent. So too were two foundational doctrinal benchmarks: the concept of inflicting “unacceptable damage” on an adversary and its more recent refinement—the targeting of “centers of power.” In their place, Macron spoke of strikes that would ensure any state that France targeted would “not recover,” a formulation that is at once more absolute and more open-ended.

Macron also did not resolve further ambiguities. He did not clarify whether the “strategic” assets France intends to deploy in Europe could include nuclear weapons, nor whether allied nations might one day participate directly in a French nuclear strike—for instance, with air-defense aircraft. He also refrained from explicitly restating two red lines he had articulated in May 2025: that France would not finance the security of others and that any arrangements with allies would not come at the expense of France’s own defense requirements.

Yet for all this deliberate openness, France’s foundational nuclear principles remain firmly intact. Strict national control, sole presidential authority over the trigger, operational credibility, an exclusively defensive purpose, and the protection of vital interests—Macron’s shift does not touch these pillars of de Gaulle’s framework. Paris is not proposing NATO-style nuclear sharing, nor is it departing from the tradition that de Gaulle established and every successor has upheld.

In this respect, the 2026 speech also performed an important corrective function: It neutralized the misreading trap that the Stockholm speech had fallen into.[14] Macron was unambiguous on the essentials—France will always decide alone on the use of its nuclear weapons. There will be no dual-key arrangement, no multinational command structure, and no transfer of weapons to allied forces. He explicitly ruled out shared planning, joint decision-making on nuclear use, and any collective definition of France’s vital interests.

What the speech offers, therefore, is a carefully calibrated expansion of France’s strategic posture—broader in geographic imagination, more deliberately opaque in its thresholds, but entirely orthodox in its command philosophy. The perimeter has shifted; the sovereign core has not.

Unresolved Tensions in the Doctrine’s Renewal and Implementation

France’s doctrinal evolution raises as many questions as it answers. It declines to resolve several structural tensions. And they are not merely academic; they bear directly on the credibility and practical reach of the renewed posture.


The first structural tension is what one might call the credibility paradox. France insists that its deterrence can protect Europe while simultaneously refusing any binding commitment to do so. This ambiguity is a deliberate feature, not a flaw—it preserves presidential freedom of decision and strategic flexibility. But it comes at a cost: it offers partners, particularly Poland and the Baltic states, no more tangible guarantee today than they had before the Île Longue speech. For those facing the most direct Russian threat, reassurance value requires more than calculated opacity.

Closely related is the sovereignty-solidarity contradiction. The more France integrates European partners into exercises, consultations, and strategic dialogue, the more it raises expectations it is structurally unwilling to meet. Allies may come to believe they have a seat at the table when the table has only one chair. This tension points to a deeper logical problem: the more France insists on the European dimension of its deterrence, the more it strains the logic of sole presidential authority since extended deterrence inherently implies some form of shared commitment, even if not shared decision-making.

Héloïse Fayet’s analysis at the French Institute of International Relations sharpens this further.[15] She makes clear that the doctrine of employment is substantively unchanged: no tactical nuclear battle, no lowering of the threshold, and preservation of the unique and nonrenewable nuclear warning option. This raises an uncomfortable question—does making an implicit posture explicit constitute genuine doctrinal evolution, or is it primarily political signaling? If no change to the underlying employment logic occurs, the innovation may lie less in strategy than in communication.

The third and perhaps most fundamental tension is the doctrine’s ill-adaptation to the gray zone. Forward deterrence, like its predecessor, is designed to address existential threats. It offers no credible answer to sub-threshold coercion, hybrid warfare, or the kind of graduated pressure Russia has systematically applied since 2014, through sabotage, cyberattacks, manipulation of information, and manipulation of elections. The deliberate ambiguity that deters a peer adversary from an existential strike becomes a structural weakness precisely where adversaries are most active: in the space below the threshold. Adversaries engineer their salami-slicing tactics to exploit that refusal. A doctrine built around the ultimate weapon has little to say about the penultimate pressure.

Taken together, these tensions suggest it is most accurate to understand France’s doctrinal renewal as a significant political reframing rather than a strategic transformation. The perimeter of ambition has expanded, but the underlying architecture has not. The posture is slightly more forward-leaning, but the fundamental questions about Europe’s nuclear future—burden-sharing, threshold definition, democratic legitimacy—remain conspicuously unanswered. What has changed is the strategic framing.
Implications for NATO

NATO established its nuclear sharing arrangements during the Cold War to address a dual imperative: deterring the Soviet Union while preventing independent nuclear proliferation among European allies.


Today, US B61 gravity bombs remain forward-deployed in several European countries (Belgium, Germany, Italy, the Netherlands, and Turkey). Allied air forces operate dual-capable aircraft, train for nuclear delivery missions, and participate in consultations through NATO’s Nuclear Planning Group. While any use would require both US authorization and host-nation involvement, ultimate control remains firmly in American hands.

This system produces three core strategic effects:Credibility of extended deterrence, which the physical presence of US nuclear weapons in Europe ensures
Political integration, embedding allies in nuclear planning and signaling shared responsibility

Nonproliferation through reassurance, reducing incentives for national nuclear programs

Nuclear sharing is therefore not simply a military arrangement but a central mechanism of alliance cohesion, directly linking European security to US strategic guarantees. The independent nuclear forces of France and the United Kingdom complement this architecture by introducing additional centers of decision-making, thereby complicating adversary calculations.

France has rooted its nuclear posture in a fundamentally different logic. From its inception, the doctrine has conceived of deterrence as the ultimate guarantee of national sovereignty and freedom of action. Building on this foundation, the emerging concept of forward deterrence reflects an effort to adapt this posture to a European context. It includes the following features:Explicit consideration of allies’ security in defining France’s vital interests
Structured strategic dialogue with European partners
Participation of allied forces in nuclear-related exercises
Potential deployment of French strategic assets to allied territory in times of crisis
Increased visibility of France’s nuclear role in European defense
Enlargement of the épaulement (shouldering, or mutual support)[16] to European partners—mutual strategic épaulement

Crucially, France offers protection without sharing control. Unlike NATO nuclear sharing—in which the US deploys weapons abroad and works with allies to train their pilots for delivery—French forces would remain under exclusive national authority even during temporary forward-deployment. They would not transfer their delivery systems, and allies would not participate in targeting or employment decisions.

It is not reasonable to separate the emergence of the forward deterrence concept from evolving perceptions of US reliability. While NATO remains the cornerstone of European defense, political debates in Washington and shifting strategic priorities toward the Indo-Pacific have introduced uncertainty regarding the long-term durability of extended deterrence.


France’s initiative does not assume American withdrawal. Rather, it prepares for scenarios in which circumstances might constrain, delay, or politically hamper US engagement. In this sense, forward deterrence functions as a complementary layer: strengthening European resilience while remaining fully compatible with NATO.

For the alliance, the implications are stabilizing rather than disruptive. A more visible French role adds a credible additional center of nuclear decision-making, reinforcing overall deterrence—while the US nuclear umbrella remains indispensable. From a European standpoint, it provides reassurance without necessitating new national nuclear programs or politically sensitive hosting arrangements. Ultimately, a strengthened French contribution helps consolidate a more robust European pillar within NATO while further complicating the strategic calculus of potential adversaries.

European Reactions to Forward Deterrence

Six years ago, at the École de Guerre, Macron introduced the idea of a “European dimension” to French nuclear deterrence.[17] At the time, the speech was primarily an invitation to dialogue—but it generated limited engagement. Many European capitals, particularly those with strong Atlanticist orientations, were wary that opening European discussion of nuclear deterrence might encourage the United States to scale back its extended deterrence commitments to Europe.

Since then, however, the strategic environment has changed profoundly. The war in Ukraine, the expansion of Russian and Chinese nuclear capabilities, and growing uncertainty about the long-term reliability of US security guarantees have altered European threat perceptions. As a result, attitudes across European capitals have shifted, and they now broadly welcome France’s initiative, reflecting a more receptive and constructive climate.

A central factor behind this evolution is how France has framed its proposal. By explicitly presenting forward deterrence as complementary to NATO rather than as an alternative, Paris has mitigated one of the key concerns of its allies. This positioning reassures states that remain deeply attached to the transatlantic framework and helps explain the more positive reception of the French approach today.

In this context, the positions of Belgium, Italy, and the Netherlands are particularly significant as host countries for US B61 nuclear gravity bombs in NATO’s nuclear-sharing arrangements. Their stance illustrates that engagement with France’s strategic dialogue is compatible with their existing obligations within the alliance. Their willingness to participate indicates that they view the French initiative not as an alternative framework but as an additional layer of reassurance—one that can reinforce European security without calling into question established commitments.

This alignment suggests that France has, at least for now, avoided the political risk of appearing to fragment Western deterrence. The readiness of NATO nuclear-sharing partners to engage lends weight to the French argument that a stronger European component and the transatlantic bond are not in competition but instead can reinforce one another.

Notably absent from the list of partners, however, are the Baltic states as well as Norway[18] and Finland—countries that directly border Russia. Their absence underscores the enduring limitations of France’s nuclear posture as an extended deterrent. Washington has noticed this gap; strategists question whether a French deterrent that does not explicitly cover NATO’s most exposed eastern flank can truly substitute for American guarantees.

Forward Deterrence and the Future of European Security

For more than 60 years, nuclear deterrence has been the silent architecture of French security—rarely politicized yet always present. That silence is now ending. By describing deterrence as the life insurance of the nation and emphasizing adaptation, reinforcement, and forward posture, Macron has effectively reinserted the nuclear variable into the political grammar of an ongoing war on European soil. This is a shift not toward use but toward preparedness, a recognition that high-intensity scenarios, long implicit, now have to undergo explicit integration into strategic thinking.

In this light, dissuasion avancée is more than a doctrinal evolution—it is a strategic diagnosis. It reflects the closure of the post–Cold War parenthesis, the erosion of the rules-based order, and the return of existential risk to the European continent. The Île Longue speech thus marks a threshold: the moment France publicly acknowledged this new reality and began to operationalize its implications.

For European partners, the message is stark. Nuclear deterrence has returned not as Cold War nostalgia but as the ultimate guarantor of peace on a continent where conventional means alone have proven insufficient to prevent aggression. The question Europe should now confront is not whether to engage with this reality but on what terms. France is offering a framework that is generous in its strategic ambition and uncompromising in its operational sovereignty. Far from being a unique assistance, it is a dynamic partnership in which partners who wish to enjoy its shelter will have to provide the conventional épaulement.

The deepest insight of the 2026 speech may ultimately be this: France is not Europeanizing its nuclear force. It is Europeanizing the strategic meaning of that force—widening the conceptual perimeter of what its allies and adversaries understand French deterrence to protect while leaving intact every mechanism of sole national control. The weapons remain French. But the stakes, France is now saying, are European.

Whether this reframing proves durable will depend on factors beyond any single speech: the trajectory of the war in Ukraine, the posture of the next American administration, the willingness of European partners to build the conventional architecture that gives épaulement operational content, and—not least—the outcome of France’s own 2027 presidential election. A doctrine that one president has announced can be quietly shelved by the next.

What a new president cannot shelve, however, is the underlying reality that the speech was designed to address. The return of great-power competition to European soil, the demonstrated willingness of a nuclear state to wage aggressive war against its neighbors, and the structural uncertainty surrounding the American commitment are not conjunctural. They are the new permanent condition of European security. France has chosen to meet that condition with its most consequential asset. The question now is whether Europe will build something worthy of that wager.

Washington’s Reception of Forward Deterrence

The Trump administration’s public reaction has been notably measured rather than hostile—but far from enthusiastic. Washington has reiterated that it intends to continue extending its nuclear deterrent to Europe even as it invests heavily in modernizing its own arsenal. This reaffirmation is important: it signals that Washington does not view France’s move as a hostile act, but the reassurance is largely formulated.

Indeed, forward deterrence came amid a larger debate about greater European strategic autonomy and meaningful burden-shifting in NATO’s deterrence mission. This policy reorientation reflects deep and growing unease among some US allies in Europe following the release of the 2025 US National Security Strategy and the 2026 US National Defense Strategy. Both documents signal a clear US preference for offloading regional security responsibilities onto allies.

This creates an awkward paradox for Washington: the Trump administration has simultaneously demanded that Europeans take more responsibility for their own defense and shown discomfort when they do so autonomously.

For Washington, the message carries both reassurance and an implicit challenge. Europe is beginning—slowly, unevenly, and without unanimity—to assume greater responsibility for its own strategic survival. France is not waiting for American permission to lead on nuclear questions. The Northwood Declaration with the United Kingdom, the Franco-German nuclear dialogue, and the épaulement framework together constitute the outline of a European strategic architecture that neither depends on Washington to function nor excludes it. That is precisely its value.

Crucially, Macron said that France had consulted with the United States and NATO and that its moves are compatible with the existing systems. This prior consultation was deliberate—Paris sought to preempt any Washington backlash by framing forward deterrence as complementary, not competitive.

Recommendations to Washington

Engage, don’t dismiss. France is doing what Washington has long demanded: assuming greater strategic responsibility. The Trump administration should publicly welcome dissuasion avancée as consistent with burden-sharing objectives. Endorsement costs nothing materially and significantly reinforces the initiative’s credibility.

Leverage the Franco-German dialogue. Washington should view the Franco-German nuclear steering group not as a rival structure but as an opportunity. A more strategically self-aware Germany is a more reliable NATO ally. Quiet US support, conditional on the dialogue remaining anchored within NATO, costs little and yields much.

Close the eastern flank gap. The absence of the Baltic states, Finland, and Norway from France’s partner list is a visible vulnerability. Washington should press Paris to extend its dialogue to frontline states—or reaffirm US extended deterrence commitments specifically for them—to prevent a two-tiered security architecture from taking hold.

Resist the disengagement temptation. The greatest risk is that Washington reads France’s nuclear assertiveness as a license to reduce US commitments. It is not. French forward deterrence is a complement to American extended deterrence, not a substitute. Using the French initiative as a pretext for strategic retrenchment would hollow out the NATO cohesion that deters Russian adventurism—precisely the outcome Moscow would welcome most.

Herman Kahn and the French Nuclear Debate

Herman Kahn’s landmark works, On Thermonuclear War (1960) and Thinking About the Unthinkable (1962), arrived in French strategic circles at precisely the moment when the intellectual foundations of the force de frappewere being debated and consolidated. His concept of the “escalation ladder”—the graduated steps from conventional skirmishing to full thermonuclear exchange—proved particularly stimulating for French thinkers. It raised a question that was acutely uncomfortable for their doctrine: If countries could manage and calibrate conflict across multiple thresholds, did this not undermine the very logic of massive retaliation on which small nuclear powers depended?

General Beaufre engaged with Kahn’s framework directly through the Institut Français d’Études Stratégiques (French Institute for Strategic Studies), concluding that for a middle power, deterrence had to function at the level of uncertainty rather than calculated response. France did not need to match the Soviet Union for every level of escalation on Kahn’s ladder; it needed only to ensure that any aggressor faced an unacceptable and incalculable risk. This is the conceptual core of what Beaufre called “deterrence of the strong by the weak.” Gallois drew a complementary lesson: the very complexity and danger of escalation reinforced the case for an independent national deterrent. If France could not trust the United States to risk New York for Paris—a question Kahn’s own analysis implicitly raised—it had no choice but to hold its own nuclear sword.

The Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 served as the crucial empirical test case for these debates. It confirmed that nuclear powers did manage confrontation through graduated signals and implicit thresholds, as Kahn had theorized. However, it also revealed that crisis management remained the exclusive prerogative of the two superpowers, keeping European allies largely in the dark—a reality that only deepened the French conviction that strategic autonomy was not a luxury but a necessity.

About the author: Tsiporah Fried is a visiting senior fellow at Hudson Institute, focused on transatlantic relations, European defense and military strategy, and defense and tech innovation.

Source: This article was published by the Hudson Institute

EndnotesEmmanuel Macron, “Discours Du Président de La République Sur La Dissuasion Nucléaire de La France” [Speech by the president of the republic on France’s nuclear deterrent], La France au Royaume-Uni, March 2, 2026, https://uk.diplomatie.gouv.fr/fr/discours-du-president-sur-la-dissuasion-nucleaire. ↑
Pierre Vandier, La Dissuasion Au Troisième Âge Nucléaire [Deterrence in the third nuclear age], 2nd ed. (Éditions du Rocher, 2024). ↑
Charles de Gaulle, “Vision de la Défense de la France” [Vision for the defense of France], L’Institut national de l’audiovisuel, November 3, 1959, accessed May 5, 2026, https://fresques.ina.fr/de-gaulle/fiche-media/Gaulle00335/vision-de-la-defense-de-la-france.html. ↑
François Géré, “Quatre généraux et l’apocalypse” [Four generals and the apocalypse], in Stratégique no53, 1992/1 – La stratégie française [Strategic no. 53, 1992/1 – The French strategy], https://www.institut-strategie.fr/strategique-n53-1992-1-la-strategie-francaise. ↑
Herman Kahn, founder of the Hudson Institute. See “Herman Kahn and the French Nuclear Debate” at the end of this article. ↑
Bruno Tertrais, “‘Destruction Assurée’: The Origins and Development of French Nuclear Strategy, 1945–1981,” in Getting MAD: Nuclear Mutual Assured Destruction, Its Origins and Practice, ed. Henry D. Sokolski (US Army War College Press, 2004), 65, https://press.armywarcollege.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1031&context=monographs. ↑
Charles de Gaulle’s decision to institute direct universal suffrage for electing the president of the republic had a close link to the logic of nuclear deterrence. As the sole authority with the power to order the use of France’s nuclear forces, the president had to possess an unquestionable democratic legitimacy commensurate with the gravity of that responsibility. In de Gaulle’s conception, only a head of state that the nation elected directly could embody the sovereignty necessary to decide, alone and in extremis, on the employment of the force de frappe. ↑
One example of this effort is Global Zero, an initiative that Barack Obama launched in 2008. ↑
“Chirac Threatens Nuclear Response to Terrorists,” NBC News, January 19, 2006, https://www.nbcnews.com/id/wbna10929636. ↑
“Speech of the President of the Republic on the Defense and Deterrence Strategy,” Élysée, February 7, 2020, transcript, https://www.elysee.fr/en/emmanuel-macron/2020/02/07/speech-of-the-president-of-the-republic-on-the-defense-and-deterrence-strategy. ↑
Timothée Albessard, “The Franco-British Northwood Declaration: A New Model of Nuclear Partnership and Deterrence?,” Japan Institute of International Affairs, July 24, 2025, https://www.jiia.or.jp/eng/report/2025/07/column/2025/07/security-fy2025-01.html. ↑
“Russia to Consider UK-France Nuclear Partnership in Military Planning – Senior Diplomat,” TASS, July 10, 2025, https://tass.com/politics/1988021. ↑
Bruno Tetrais, “The French Nuclear Deterrent Expands Eastward,” Strategic Comments 32, no. 6 (March 2026), https://www.iiss.org/publications/strategic-comments/2026/03/the-french-nuclear-deterrent-expands-eastward. ↑
In a January 2024 speech at the Swedish Defence University in Stockholm, Macron stated that “French vital interests have a European dimension.” The formulation was consistent with the Gaullist tradition as Mitterrand and his successors applied it—yet it triggered a political controversy in France and a wave of misinterpretation among allies. ↑
Héloïse Fayet, “France Has a New Nuclear Doctrine of ‘Forward Deterrence’ for Europe. What Does It Mean?,” Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, March 5, 2026, https://thebulletin.org/2026/03/france-has-a-new-nuclear-doctrine-of-forward-deterrence-for-europe-what-does-it-mean. ↑
The central idea is that nuclear deterrence can be credible only if it is flanked by robust conventional capabilities, allowing management of escalation before it crosses the nuclear threshold. It rests on three concrete pillars: early warning—detecting and tracking incoming missiles (via satellites and radars, the JEWEL program), extended air defense—protecting airspace against missiles and drones (SAMP/T NG system), and deep strike—long-range conventional offensive capability (the ELSA initiative with Germany and the United Kingdom). Lack of épaulement might tempt an adversary to push escalation, betting on the fact that France would have only the nuclear option at its disposal—an option too radical to activate in intermediate situations. ↑
“Speech of the President of the Republic on the Defense and Deterrence Strategy.” ↑
Norway expressed interest in joining days after the speech. ↑