In Jewish tradition, giving is an act of love. It’s how we honor those we’ve lost, celebrate those we cherish, and build the world we want to live in. For decades, Jews across the globe have given generously to Israel, not only out of solidarity but also out of kinship. Now, a proposed law threatens to tax and silence that giving.
Passed in a preliminary reading by the Knesset in February, the amendment to Israel’s Associations Law introduces an 80% tax on donations to Israeli nonprofits that come from “foreign political entities,” a term that includes the European Union, the United Nations, and virtually every foreign government.
If passed into law, this tax would apply to many organizations that support education, civil rights, Holocaust remembrance, health care, women’s empowerment, and more. Worse still, those same organizations would be barred from petitioning the courts unless they also receive state funding, effectively disqualifying dozens of respected NGOs from legal recourse.
The law’s proponents claim it is about “protecting Israeli sovereignty” from outside influence. But let’s be honest: This is not about influence; it’s about ideology. The bill’s exemptions for organizations in “non-political” fields, such as haredi (ultra-Orthodox) education, Holocaust remembrance, or medical assistance, reveal its true intent: to punish some forms of giving while protecting others. In doing so, it casts suspicion over philanthropy itself.
Who this bill hurts
The proposed law would hit hardest not the powerful but the vulnerable. Civil society organizations that advocate for marginalized populations, from asylum seekers to women at risk, from Bedouin children to victims of police violence, often rely on grants from European and American government-affiliated foundations.
These are not shadowy actors with hidden agendas. They are our partners in repairing the world, and they have supported Israel in its most difficult hours.
Under this law, even a soup kitchen or a preschool that receives support from a German or Canadian embassy would be taxed, unless it is granted an exception by Israel’s finance minister. That’s not regulation; that’s politicized permission.
Help, not restrictions
Since October 7, the need for financial support in Israel has only grown. Entire communities are struggling to recover, rebuild, and regain stability. The cost of trauma care, temporary housing, food security, and emotional rehabilitation is staggering and will remain so for years to come.
And yet, just as Israeli society faces one of its hardest periods in recent memory, barriers to support are multiplying.
In the United States, the Trump administration has begun advancing legislation that would curtail outbound philanthropy to foreign nonprofits. If such policies materialize, it could become even harder for Israeli civil society to access American Jewish support. Add to that the proposed Israeli NGO tax, and, suddenly, support from abroad is being squeezed at both ends.
Last week, I visited the city of Safed. A city rich with history, spirituality, and creativity. But what I saw broke my heart: boarded-up homes in the Old City, abandoned alleyways, and a quiet that felt more like mourning than peace. Safed is not alone. All across this country, in the periphery, in the center, and in towns and neighborhoods most of us never visit, there are broken places in urgent need of healing.
Now is not the time for bureaucratic gatekeeping. We can’t afford to be selective about where help comes from.
A dangerous message to world Jewry
However, the damage goes deeper than civil society. This law sends a chilling message to the Jewish Diaspora: Your support is only welcome if it aligns with our current government’s worldview. That message undermines decades of bridge-building between Jewish communities abroad and Israeli society.
Philanthropy is not only about money. It’s about values, relationships, and shared responsibility. Diaspora Jews who support projects in Israel, whether promoting religious pluralism, social justice, or trauma recovery, do so because they feel part of Israel’s story. To treat their giving as a threat is to treat them as outsiders.
This law doesn’t just close the door to foreign governments. It shuts a window to world Jewry. The damage to these relationships won’t be immediate. It will unfold gradually, like a snowball effect, a chilling hesitation here, a canceled partnership there, until the deep and trusting bonds that have taken decades to build begin to quietly erode.
Partnership to permission
At its heart, this bill reflects a deep mistrust, not only of foreign donors but of Israeli civil society itself. It assumes that unless nonprofits are state-funded, they are suspect. That unless a donation passes a political litmus test, it is harmful.
This is not how strong democracies behave. This is not how confident nations treat their allies. And this is not how Israel should treat the global Jewish community. Instead of taxing generosity, we should be welcoming it, with transparency, yes, but not with punishment.
Instead of silencing nonprofits, we should be listening to them. Instead of demanding loyalty, we should be building trust.
The path forward
If passed, this law will not only erode Israeli democracy. It will damage Israel’s most precious asset: the bond between its people and Jews worldwide. And at a time of national trauma, we simply cannot afford that rupture.
We can, and must, do better. Because in Jewish life, we give not out of politics but out of love. Let’s not turn that love into a liability.
The writer is the CEO of ISC, Infrastructure for Social Change, which works with dozens of NGOs and philanthropic foundations to strengthen partnerships, refine strategy, and improve the methods and impact of civil society work across the country.