It’s a universally accepted truism that young people tend to be liberal, and the generations above them conservative.

Divest from fossil fuels, boycott Doubletree, open Hillel, occupy Harvard. We’re certainly emblematic of the stereotype, and polls everywhere reaffirm what we already suspect. Gen Y and Millennials like liberal things—like gay marriage, legal weed, and the welfare net—while the middle-aged and the elderly dislike all of them.

A related truism is that we move to the right with age—that is, upon coming to terms with our own limitations, we shed our idealism and accept a toned down, conservative view of the world. And again there’s some truth to this: the Baby Boomers—the generation of Woodstock and the tumultuous ‘60s—poll like staunch Republicans today.

But both these rules, despite seeming universal, have exceptions, both at home and abroad, and these exceptions have an outsized potential to radically reshape the way America interacts with the world. This connection may seem obscure and tenuous, but stay with me for a moment.

Among the rare places where young people are in fact more conservative than their elders is America’s staunch, if occasionally manipulative ally in the Middle East, Israel. Two-thirds of first-time voters there described themselves as “right-wing” during the 2013 national elections, and 58 percent of Israelis under age 35 described their political orientation as “right”—a number far higher than any other age group.

Over 40 percent of voters aged 18 to 24 went for hawkish parties—like Likud and the annexationist Jewish Home in 2013—compared to only 10 percent that went for left-leaning banners like Labor. And according to a separate survey conducted by the Jerusalem Post, only 42 percent of young Israelis still desire a two-state solution—way less than the portions that do among older generations.

The reasons for this conservatism are twofold: Jews from the rightist Orthodox community reproduce much more quickly than their liberal counterparts, and the demographics of Israel are showing it. Plus, many young Israelis have been reared in an atmosphere, post-Oslo Accords, of unending violence and distrust—think the Second Intifada, the erection of the West Bank security barrier, the wars in Gaza, in 2009 and 2014.

But whatever the reasons, the next generation of Israelis is set to stiffen an already hawkish line on Palestine, one in which deep empathy—already a rare commodity, if this summer was any indication—is even rarer.

This hardening of attitudes might not be significant in and of itself, if it weren’t for the fact that attitudes among young Americans, and even among young American non-Orthodox Jews, are continually shifting in the opposite direction when it comes to Israel-Palestine.

Looking through the lens of Israel’s recent rocket offensive in Gaza, 53 percent of Americans 65 and older blame Hamas for the conflict, while 15 percent put the blame on Israel.

Every age group 30 and over more or less agrees with this assessment. But among Americans aged 18 to 29 the numbers are inverted, with 29 percent faulting Israel, 18 percent faulting Hamas, and many others blaming both. Nowadays, young people are more likely to say that Israel acted disproportionately in Gaza, than say that Israel’s response was appropriate. And among young Americans Jews, commentators both in Israel and in the United States are noting a skepticism aimed at Israeli institutions and state policy—a trend arguably represented by J Street’s expanding reach on campus and Open Hillel.

Of course, one might make the argument, introduced above, that young people take a liberal view on Palestine simply because they’re young, and as they age, their views will shift rightward. But there are reasons to believe that, in this situation, the old truism might not apply.

It turns out that sympathy for Palestine in America—like increasing suspicion toward Palestine in Israel—is a matter of demographics. According to Pew, evangelical Christians tend to support Israel for doctrinal reasons, and white people are way more pro-Israel than blacks, Latinos, and other minorities. (And, it so happens, young Americans tend to be both irreligious and racially diverse.)

What does this all mean from a policy perspective? The specifics are hard to ferret out. And the reality is that policy is often as responsive to special interests—like AIPAC, Christians United for Israel, and the like—as they are to slowly shifting sentiments among a given population.

But the demographics don’t lie. For the first time, it’s no longer radical to say that the unconditional support American politicians tend to lend Israeli policy might not, a decade down the road, be quite so unconditional.

J. Gram Slattery '15, a Crimson editorial writer, is a Social Studies concentrator in Kirkland House. His column appears every other Tuesday.