Months into my campaign for Seattle city council, a neighborhood business owner invited me to meet voters (and potential donors) after the service at his synagogue.
Doing my best schmoozing, I introduced myself hundreds of times. The synagogue had fantastic food, ranging from stuffed grape leaves to sweets — certainly much better than the donu
ts-and-coffee affairs I remember after St. Philomena masses when I was a kid.
Eventually I was introduced to a woman, conservatively dressed in black, who supposedly pulled purse strings throughout the community. I explained my proposals to improve transit, create more walkable neighborhoods, provide broadband internet and address homelessness as convincingly as possible. Then I asked which Seattle issues mattered most to her.
"Well, Israel, of course," she said, as if it were completely obvious.
I stammered something about being a big supporter of Israel and having the deepest possible respect for that country's accomplishments, cultural and economic. However, um, policy on Israel isn't really within the purview of the city council, I thought.
This experience came to mind again this week in the lead-up to the groundbreaking agreement with Iran, when politicians of every stripe voiced pro-Israel support. Consider the reports of bipartisan near-consensus against even the concept of negotiations (for example, Foreign Policy: "When war breaks out with Iran, blame this New Jersey Democrat"). Is the awesome blowback, starting minutes after announcement of the deal, merely domestic U.S. political opposition?
The fact that campaign contributions never materialized from the Seattle synagogue I visited isn't the point. It was one indication of an impressive integrated strategic communications apparatus that starts at the grassroots level. It may be unmatched and is certainly more relevant than ever.