Israel’s milk shortage shows how policy fights end up hurting the public - editorial

Families shouldn’t become collateral damage in an industry showdown. Milk is a basic staple, especially in homes with kids. The public doesn’t experience dairy policy through committee hearings. People feel it when the fridge is half-empty and when the cashier says, “Two cartons, that’s it.”

This crisis also exposes a deeper Israeli habit: turning essential systems into political battlegrounds, then acting surprised when the public loses trust. The dairy sector sits at the intersection of cost of living, border communities, food security, and ideology. That mix demands adult governance. It also demands restraint from those who control supply.

Quotas are allocated down to the liter, farmers sell at set prices, and a small number of dominant dairies process the milk that ends up on shelves. Add steep tariffs, often around 40% on many dairy products, and the market stays insulated even when prices climb.

That system was built to guarantee stability and protect farmers, many of them in kibbutzim and moshavim where agriculture still anchors local life. It also locks consumers into higher prices and leaves the country vulnerable when one part of the chain decides to pull the emergency brake.

Smotrich argues that the answer is competition: reduce tariffs, open imports, and dismantle a quota regime that freezes the sector in place. He says efficient farms will survive and that the state should support border regions through direct aid rather than hidden price protections built into every carton of milk.

Critics fear the opposite outcome: small farms collapse, land is abandoned, and Israel drifts into reliance on foreign suppliers for a basic food product, including from countries whose relations with Israel can turn icy fast.

Both camps raise real issues. The country can’t ignore the crushing cost of living. The country also can’t treat border agriculture as an outdated hobby. Israel’s periphery doesn’t need slogans. It needs a workable policy.

So what should happen now?

First, supply must be restored immediately. The farmers should end any steps that restrict the flow of milk to the public. Protest belongs in the Knesset corridors, the courts, the streets, the media, and the ballot box. Turning families into bargaining chips crosses a line.

Second, the government should pause the rollout long enough to negotiate a transition plan that won’t wipe out smaller farms overnight. That pause should come with a clear timeline and binding milestones. Israelis have seen too many “pauses” that turn into paralysis. A short, defined window for talks can bring people back from the edge while keeping reform on the table.

Third, design reform like a state that takes responsibility for outcomes.

If Israel wants cheaper dairy, the plan has to include enforceable consumer protections at retail, real transparency in pricing, and targeted support for the farms the state genuinely wants to keep alive for strategic reasons. Direct subsidies for border-area farms, modernization grants, and a buyout mechanism for those exiting the sector all beat vague promises and political theater.

And yes, imports can play a role, especially as a buffer during shocks. But Israel should build that buffer deliberately, with diversified sourcing and clear standards, rather than stumbling into dependence after domestic production collapses.

The milk shortage is a test of whether Israel can handle a basic economic reform without punishing the public, humiliating itself at the checkout line, and deepening the sense that no one is in charge.

A government that can’t keep milk on shelves will struggle to persuade citizens that it can manage bigger storms.