For generations, the diamond trade was closely identified with Jews. That association was not accidental. Amsterdam, Antwerp, New York and Israel were sustained by dense networks of Jewish families, many of them observant, who conducted business within communities where discretion was not merely valued but essential. Stones worth extraordinary sums moved from hand to hand in quiet rooms, often without a lengthy contract, a battalion of lawyers or a formal ceremony. Two Hebrew words, ‘Mazal U’Bracha,’ followed by a handshake, were enough to say that the deal was closed and the word had been given.
To an outsider, such a system can appear almost impossible. How can goods worth millions of dollars be exchanged on trust? The answer lies in the peculiar nature of the diamond itself. A diamond is small, portable, valuable and difficult to assess fully without expertise. In such a market, the reputation of the trader can matter almost as much as the stone. A person who breaks his word does not merely lose one transaction. He risks losing an entire community, along with credit, suppliers, buyers and his professional future. In the diamond trade, your name has traditionally been your collateral.
This is why the industry developed so naturally inside close and familiar communities. Family connections, a common language, houses of worship, communal institutions and relationships carried across generations all reduced risk. One did not always need to know a trader personally. It could be enough to know the family he came from, who vouched for him and who would answer if something went wrong. This was not simply a Jewish tradition. It was a social technology of trust, developed long before anyone thought of blockchain.
The global map of diamonds, however, changed dramatically. During the twentieth century, Indian traders, particularly families from Gujarat, entered the trade with extraordinary energy. Gujarati networks, including many members of the Jain community, built a powerful presence in Mumbai, Surat and Antwerp. They began by mastering categories of smaller and less sought-after stones, connected global trading centres to India’s cutting and polishing capacity, and turned patience, family discipline and commercial focus into a global system.
Today India stands at the heart of the international diamond value chain. Industry estimates place the share of the world’s diamonds cut and polished in India at about 90 percent by volume, with Surat in Gujarat as the principal centre. This achievement cannot be explained by labour costs alone. Behind it lies a deep business culture: a willingness to work with narrow margins, the patience to think in years rather than weeks, intelligent use of family networks, rapid adaptation to new markets and an instinct for discovering value where others have not yet looked.
On one of my business visits to Ahmedabad, I encountered this culture at close quarters. Many of the traders I met came from families with long mercantile traditions, and many belonged to the Jain community. In conversation, I repeatedly heard a curious expression: Gujaratis, or sometimes Jains, were described as ‘the Jews of India.’ I have never found an agreed source for that nickname, and it should certainly not be treated as a scholarly definition. Perhaps it arose from the image of both communities as disciplined and formidable traders. Perhaps the diamond connection contributed to it. Whatever its origin, the comparison reveals how outsiders recognise certain shared habits of enterprise.
Those similarities are striking. Both traditions place enormous importance on family, education, community networks, thrift, enterprise and the ability to adapt to a foreign environment without losing identity. Jews and Gujaratis have both created trading communities across borders. They have often learned to operate as minorities within societies larger than themselves, while maintaining strong links among commercial centres in different countries. In both cases, internal trust has allowed information, credit and opportunity to travel quickly.
There is also a less comfortable side to the comparison. Both communities carry old stereotypes about money, commerce and toughness in negotiation. Such stereotypes can easily become offensive generalisations. No people, religion or community is born with a commercial gene. What looks from the outside like business instinct is usually the accumulated result of history, education, experience, social networks and habits passed from one generation to the next. Commercial success is not inherited biology. It is a culture that is learned, tested and refined.
As for the actual quality of trading skills, opinions may differ, but mine is clear. Jews have a worldwide reputation as excellent traders. As a Jew and an Israeli, I can say honestly that I have been deeply impressed by the trading abilities of Indians, particularly Gujaratis. They negotiate patiently, smile even when they have no intention of moving a single rupee, study every detail, keep their cards close and wait for the right moment. Even in the middle of a demanding negotiation, a Gujarati will invite you for masala chai, ask about your family and make it clear that the relationship matters as much as the price. In most situations, it is wiser to be on their side than opposite them. I say this from experience.
My business partner of many years is Binit, a Gujarati Jain from the respected Shah family. Our relationship has long since moved beyond business and become something close to family. Trade is in his soul. I have learned from him about patience, reading people, building a relationship before building a transaction and understanding the difference between a quick profit and a partnership that creates value over many years. Yet before all of that, Binit is an exceptional, loyal and honest man. For me, that remains the most important quality in any trader and any partner.
His wife, Prachi, brings another kind of artistry to the family. She is a designer and the owner of a leading silver jewellery design brand. The connection between commerce, aesthetics and jewellery is therefore present at home as well as at work. Then there are the Indian delicacies that emerge from Prachi’s kitchen. They are, quite frankly, a reason in themselves to plan every business journey with a passage through Ahmedabad. A serious article about trade must occasionally admit the truth: strategy is important, but so is an excellent Gujarati meal.
One incident captures the transfer of tradition better than any economic statistic. I once heard an Indian trader use the words ‘Mazal U’Bracha’ to close a deal. It was obvious that he had learnt the phrase from Jewish merchants. The words are Hebrew, after all, and they are a living remnant of the diamond trade’s old commercial code. Out of curiosity, I asked whether he understood what they meant.
He gave me a wonderfully practical and very Indian, answer. He said he did not remember the meaning, but he knew that when those words were spoken, he received the money and could go home. It may not be a dictionary definition, but it is difficult to imagine a more precise commercial explanation.
The relationship between Jewish and Gujarati traders is therefore not simply a story of one community replacing another in the diamond business. It shows how commercial knowledge passes between communities, how one tradition learns from another and how competition can develop into cooperation.
Indian traders did not discard the old code of the industry. In many ways, they absorbed its central principles, adapted them to a new age and expanded them on a scale that earlier generations could scarcely have imagined.
Of course, the modern diamond trade cannot rely on a handshake alone. Regulation, banking rules, compliance, customer identification, transparency and the tracing of stones are now essential. Rightly so. Close communities can create trust, but they can also become opaque to outsiders. Tradition is not a substitute for sound corporate governance. Yet even in an age when every transaction arrives with documentation, checks and digital systems, no software can replace a reputation built over decades.
This lesson extends far beyond diamonds. India and Israel are usually discussed through defence, agriculture, technology and innovation. Beneath those sectors, however, lies a deeper human and commercial compatibility. Both societies value initiative, personal relationships, long memories and the ability to turn limitations into opportunities. The Israeli tends to ask quickly where the opportunity lies. The Gujarati wants to know how to turn it into a business that will endure. When these instincts meet in the right way, the partnership can be exceptionally strong.
The centres of the diamond world may change again. Antwerp, Tel Aviv, Mumbai, Surat and Dubai will continue to compete. New technologies will alter the way stones are identified, valued and transferred. But the old principle will remain. In a world where everyone can examine the stone, the real advantage is still knowing the person across the table.
The story, then, is not that Gujaratis replaced Jews. It is that they understood the same profound commercial truth. A good deal begins with numbers, but a real partnership begins with trust. The ‘Mazal U’Bracha’ of the twenty-first century may be spoken with a Gujarati accent and followed by masala chai, but its meaning has not changed. Your word is still the most precious stone you own.