I started a security force to protect Jews in LA — here’s the secret I learned

Security guards at Michigan’s Temple Israel stopped an attack Thursday that targeted the synagogue‘s preschool.

They did what they were trained to do. No one was killed — except for the attacker.

Those are the results of a prepared community.

And it reminds me why I started a security organization in the LA Jewish community in 2016.

Prior to the Michigan attack, we received calls this week from Jews asking a question that no community should have to ask:

“Is it safe for my family to keep that sign up?”

They meant signs advertising Jewish schools or institutions.

This moment — when a community starts questioning whether it’s safe to be visible — is exactly why I founded Magen Am.

My answer is: We don’t back down.

If a dog barks and you run, what happens? The dog will chase. It has to.

That’s basic predator-prey psychology.

When communities stop acting like prey — the dynamic changes.

It’s not about confrontation. It’s about confidence.

So we don’t run.

Over the past few years, antisemitic incidents in the United States have surged. Jewish schools, synagogues, and community centers have faced threats and attacks that once felt unimaginable in America.

Parents are asking harder questions. Congregations are wondering if they are prepared for emergencies.

And communities are realizing something important: Security cannot just be a guard at the door.

It has to be a culture.

When a volunteer joins one of our training programs, the first thing he or she learns is that it isn’t about pretending to be tough.

It’s about responsibility.

Team members train together for months. They learn how to identify suspicious behavior, how to manage emergencies, and how to coordinate with law enforcement. They learn discipline and humility.

Most importantly, they learn that security is not about power.

It’s about service.

Some critics worry that having a community security organization could lead to vigilantism or unnecessary escalation.

That concern is exactly why serious training matters. Discipline, clear protocols and coordination with law enforcement are what make the model work.

And something interesting happens when people train this way.

Fear starts to fade.

Not because threats disappear, but because people stop feeling helpless.

I want my kids to grow up feeling secure, not protected.

There’s a difference.

Protection is something done to you. Security is something you build.

A reporter asked me a question recently that captures how many people think about security today.

“How do you make sure dangerous people don’t try to find your organization?”

It’s a fair question about the danger of becoming targets ourselves.

My answer caught her off guard.

“That’s not something we’re particularly worried about,” I told her. “Because we all train.”

Meaning: The entire community trains.

When parents know a trained security guard is watching over a school; when a synagogue knows that the congregants understand security procedures; when neighbors know someone nearby is paying attention — the atmosphere changes.

Security stops feeling outsourced.

It becomes something the community owns. And that’s the secret to success.

For decades, most communities treated security as something handled entirely by institutions — police departments, hired guards or outside organizations. That model made sense when those systems had unlimited capacity.

But today, especially here in California, the reality is different.

Police departments across the state are struggling with staffing shortages and recruitment challenges. Officers are being asked to do more with fewer resources.

Even the best police department in the world cannot be everywhere.

And they shouldn’t have to be. But communities are everywhere.

Community security isn’t about replacing law enforcement. In fact, the opposite is true. The strongest security environments are the ones where communities and law enforcement work closely together.

Police respond to incidents.

Communities can prevent them.

When people are trained and aware, suspicious behavior stands out faster. Communication moves more quickly. Situations get addressed before they escalate.

In that sense, communities become a force multiplier for public safety.

But something else happens, too.

When neighbors train together, communities become stronger.

People who once barely knew each other begin working as a team. Institutions coordinate more closely. Responsibility becomes shared.

Security becomes part of community life instead of something that appears only during moments of crisis.

And it’s important to remember what security is really for.

Jewish life is joyful. It’s families around dinner tables, children learning in schools, and communities gathering for prayer and celebration.

Security exists to make sure that life can continue normally.

It sends a simple message: Fear does not get the final word.

Something shifts when people take responsibility for the safety of the places they live.

People stop asking if they are safe.

They start asking how they can help.

And that’s when security stops being something a community hires — and becomes something a community is.

Rabbi Yossi Eldort is the founder of Magen Am, a Jewish community security organization in LA.

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