From Intuition to Intention: Why Jewish Advocacy Needs a Theory of Change

For a long time, I did a lot of good work that relied more on instinct than intention.

Things moved. Programs happened. Leaders emerged. Crises were managed. Relationships were built. Sometimes real progress followed. Sometimes it didn’t. Often, it was hard to explain why.

Then, a few years ago, I was introduced to the concept of a theory of change. And quietly, almost annoyingly, it reshaped the way I approached everything.

Anyone who has worked with me since will not be surprised to hear this. It became a running joke. If you pitched a new initiative, there was a very good chance I would ask some version of: “What’s the theory of change here?” Enough times that colleagues could certainly anticipate it before I opened my mouth.

But the reason I kept asking wasn’t academic. It was practical.

I had seen too many smart people doing meaningful work without a clear line between effort and outcome. Too many talented student leaders burning energy without building leverage. Too many organisations mistaking motion for progress.

A theory of change didn’t make the work easier. But it made it legible. And legibility is what turns good intentions into durable impact.

What a Theory of Change Actually Is

At its core, a theory of change is not jargon. It is simply disciplined thinking.

It answers three questions that advocacy work often rushes past:

What are we actually trying to change?

What needs to be true for that change to occur?

What sequence of actions gets us there?

If your plan relies on hope rather than causality, you do not have a theory of change. You have aspirations. Aspirations are important. They are not sufficient.

Advocacy, by definition, is about moving people. Moving institutions. Moving norms. That kind of movement does not happen accidentally. It happens when effort compounds rather than dissipates.

This is where many campus efforts struggle, even when the values are right and the commitment is real.

In earlier essays, I have written about the importance of moving from reaction to leadership, and from isolated activity to organising. A theory of change is what makes those shifts operational without turning them into slogans.

It is the difference between asking “What should we do next?” and asking “What are we building toward?

Why This Matters Now

Much of Jewish advocacy today is shaped by urgency. Understandably so. The pace of incidents, the volatility of campus climates, and the emotional toll on students all create pressure to respond quickly and visibly.

But urgency without structure creates fragility.

When everything feels equally important, nothing accumulates. When every moment is treated as exceptional, there is no throughline. And when leaders cannot explain how their actions connect over time, institutions learn that they can simply wait for the noise to pass.

This is not a failure of passion. It is a failure of design.

In earlier essays, I have written about the importance of moving from reaction to leadership, and from isolated activity to organising. A theory of change is what makes those shifts operational without turning them into slogans.

It is the difference between asking “What should we do next?” and asking “What are we building toward?”

The Levers That Actually Shift Campus Reality

If you want to change how antisemitism functions on campus, you are almost always working on some combination of four underlying levers:

Identity

How Jewish students understand themselves, their history, and their legitimacy

Relationships

Who trusts whom, who listens to whom, and who is willing to act together

Institutions

How policies are enforced, whose voices are taken seriously, and what accountability looks like in practice

Norms

What is considered acceptable, costly, marginal, or mainstream

Most actions touch one or two of these levers. Very few touch all four. That is fine. It is also why sequence matters.

A theory of change helps you decide which lever you are moving now and why it matters for what comes next. Without that clarity, even well-executed efforts remain isolated.

A Simple Campus Theory of Change

Here is an example of a theory of change I have seen work across very different campuses, adapted to local context each time:

• If Jewish students invest first in building a confident and capable core, then 

• they can sustain a calm and consistent presence in public spaces, which allows them to

• build genuine relationships with peers, faculty, and student leaders before moments of crisis, which enables them to

• take strategic action with credibility and support, leading over time to

• a campus environment where antisemitism carries real social and institutional cost.

Nothing in that sequence is dramatic. That is the point.

What makes it effective is that each stage creates conditions for the next. Skills precede visibility. Visibility precedes partnership. Partnership precedes leverage. Leverage precedes change.

This is how power accumulates without panic.

Choosing the Right Theory of Change

Not every campus needs the same strategy. One of the most common mistakes I see is groups trying to pursue multiple theories of change at once.

Broadly speaking, most campus advocacy efforts fall into one of three categories:

Culture shift

Focused on changing narratives, social norms, and what feels acceptable in public discourse

Institutional accountability

Focused on enforcing existing policies, improving reporting pathways, and securing concrete commitments

Leadership development

Focused on building depth, continuity, and capacity across cohorts of students

All three are legitimate. Very few teams can do all three well at the same time.

A theory of change forces a hard but necessary decision: what is our primary objective right now? Everything else becomes secondary or supportive.

Clarity here prevents burnout and internal conflict. It also makes it easier to say no to distractions without guilt.

Turning Theory Into Practice

A theory of change is only useful if it shapes decisions. Here are three practical tools students and professionals can use immediately.

The Action Test

Before approving any initiative, ask:

Which lever does this move?

Who is this for?

What becomes easier because we did this?

If you cannot answer the third question, the action may still be worthwhile, but it is unlikely to build momentum.

The Semester Anchor

Instead of planning around dates, plan around outcomes. Identify three conditions you want to exist by the end of term that do not currently exist. Then design backwards.

Conditions, not events.

The Weekly Discipline

Momentum is built in weekly rhythms, not marquee moments. A protected meeting, a learning practice, a relationship-building habit. These are boring on paper and transformative in reality.

If your work does not have a weekly heartbeat, it will not survive a crisis.

Why This Is a Marker of Maturity

Over time, I have come to see a theory of change as a sign that a group is ready to lead rather than merely respond.

It signals that people are thinking beyond their own exhaustion. That they are willing to delay gratification in service of durability. That they are serious about stewardship, not just survival.

Jewish advocacy does not fail because people lack courage. It falters when courage is not matched by intention.

A theory of change does not guarantee success. But it dramatically improves the odds that effort will compound rather than disappear.

And in work that is fundamentally about shaping people, cultures, and futures, that distinction is everything.

An Invitation

If you are a student or professional doing this work, try this exercise this week:

Write your theory of change in six sentences.

Share it with your team.

Argue about it.

Refine it.

Return to it when decisions get messy.

You will not get it perfect. That is not the goal.

The goal is to move from instinct to intention. From reacting well to building wisely. From surviving moments to stewarding futures.

That shift is quiet. It is unglamorous. And it is where real power is built.