Rafi DeMogge recently wrote an article in Mosaic Magazine, "The Migration Debate Israel Is Not Having," which dispels the two prominent but competing narratives about Jewish migration we are fed by the media, particularly in the aftermath of October 7.
The first, the “Abandonment Narrative,” says that the majority of Israelis who are leaving do so because the state has failed them politically, morally, and practically. The second, an “Antisemitism Narrative,” says that Jews are making aliyah in large numbers, fleeing post-October 7 antisemitism in the Diaspora. DeMogge basically dispels both narratives as just that: stories we are told to push agendas. Through an analysis of the data, he demonstrates that of course, Israelis are leaving and Jews are making aliyah, but not at the scale narratives imply.
The real forces shaping Israel’s demographic future are not dramatic stories of abandonment or rescue, of fleeing to Israel, or from. They are the less glamorous realities of FSU migration, immigrant retention, professional training, and above all, fertility.
DeMogge's analysis is intelligent, evenhandedly presented, and probably useful for the data it exposed. As so often with data, he demonstrates how well-meaning people often cite numbers to prove the point they already wanted to make.
Yet we all know that the return of the Jewish people to their ancestral homeland is not a numbers game.
What is happening in Israel today is anything but. We are living in an age where, more than ever before, moving to Israel is a choice, not a necessity. Today’s migration is unique. It is part of the exciting progress towards building Israel’s strengths and reducing its weaknesses for the future battle of good against evil, preparing Israel to be the light unto the nations that will lead humanity forward.
Mirroring the first Jewish immigration story
The current immigration story mirrors our first immigration story. When the Jewish people finally left Egypt, the Midrash tells us that only one in five actually left. Looking at that percentage through today’s lens of Diaspora Judaism, it makes perfect sense. There are a number of reasons not to leave the home one knows, regardless of conditions there: fear of the unknown; the comfort of routine; a lifetime of enslavement to a certain lifestyle (to which you can't imagine any alternative); and lack of faith in one’s own self-worth and ability to overcome adversity. This is the effect of slavery, whether it is to the builders of ancient Egypt, or to Western capitalism.
In the ancient Exodus, the fledgling Jewish nation was even further winnowed down on the journey, by the Sin of the Golden Calf, by the chapter with the spies, and finally, the rebirthing of the nation through the wilderness. If we applied the logic of today’s migration debate to the Exodus, every contraction would look like a demographic catastrophe. The mixed multitude that joined Israel but did not fully share its covenantal mission would be counted as a painful loss. The generation that faltered after the sin of the spies would be mourned as an irreplaceable depletion of national strength, even as they were replaced by their children.
But the Torah tells a different story. As uncomfortable a truth as it may be, this winnowing process eliminated the weakest links. The Jewish people were not formed by numbers, but through a long and painful process of refinement, in which a nation of former slaves became capable of freedom, responsibility, faith, and sovereignty. In fact, the Jewish nation coming out of the wilderness was roughly the same size as the nation that entered it, but was infinitely more prepared to conquer the Land of Israel, the same land the generation of the spies was afraid to enter.
The lesson wasn’t lost on history. In the end, what matters is not how many leave, but who stays and why, and what they are prepared to build.
We are living a parallel moment. The same forces that have always defined Jewish history — the pull of comfort, fear of the unknown, the long psychological residue of exile — are sorting us once again. Those leaving Israel today often cite political exhaustion or fear for their children's futures. Those arriving often flee rather than come toward something. Both motivations are understandable.
Neither is adequate to the moment.
Throughout the Diaspora, we have played the game of our hosts. We defined our value and self-worth by what we contributed to the civilizations that tolerated us and the need to be relevant. We were doctors, intellectuals, business leaders, political advisors, and sometimes, just cheap labor. We used our intelligence and the skills we had that were complementary to the countries in which we were held captive, to justify our presence, always the Other.
We survived the Holocaust, but we emerged from Europe as a wounded people, carrying a victim mentality not unlike the generation of the spies. It has taken generations to begin recovering our sense of self, our connection to God, and our memory of who we actually are.
After a long journey through the wilderness of exile, we are nearing the end of the modern “generation of the desert,” Bamidbar, finally approaching the moment of return. Not just a physical return, but a spiritual and national reconstitution to retake our place here. Not just as a physical address, but a return to our original mission.
For this, we do not need passengers. We need soldiers to strengthen Israel and bring victory over our enemies.
Israel’s future will not be secured by soldiers in uniform alone. It will also depend on brilliant scientists and engineers developing the technologies that protect the country, strengthen its economy, and expand the possibilities for regional peace that began with the Abraham Accords.
It will require bold political and social thinkers who can help Israeli society grow more resilient, cohesive, and forward-looking. And it will need serious Torah scholars and Jewish educators who can help shape the moral, spiritual, and communal framework for Israel’s next chapter: not merely a secular state with a Jewish majority, but a modern Jewish state that is confident, compassionate, unified, and deeply rooted in its own inheritance: Torah.
We can bemoan those departing Israel at its greatest hour of need, in the face of open miracles and hard-won victories, but I believe that Israel will survive without them, and perhaps be stronger for their absence.
To those coming to Israel to escape something worse: unless you come to integrate, to shed the garments of your captivity, to become a part of Klal Yisrael, chances are likely you will leave when things become more challenging in Israel than they were back home, just as DeMogge lays out in his article.
But if you come to Israel to be a soldier in the ultimate battle against the evil forces in the world to restore the grandeur and power of God's Chosen Nation to lead the world into a new age of peace and prosperity, we need you.
Israel’s heroes, both in the IDF and in the rest of Israeli society, aren't winning the war because they are the best programmers, professors, doctors, or political scientists. (They might be, in fact, but that isn't why we are winning.) We are winning because of God’s promise he made to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. That holy covenant is being revealed in our practical, “regular” lives every day, and we hasten it when we show Him that we are worthy of victory.
None of that requires numbers. This is the one narrative that can survive a brain drain and any other immigration or emigration cycle. What it requires is for us to understand the army we are building, the skills needed, and how we can unify and mobilize ourselves to win the war so that we may finally enter a new age of peace.
Many generations of Jewish history have had their own “Exodus moment,” a transformative moment that separates those who will carry the mission forward from those who will not. We are in ours.
The question is not how many are coming or going. The question is which soldier are you?
The writer is an American computer scientist, entrepreneur, and philanthropist who is the co-founder and managing partner at Differential Ventures. He is the founder and president of The Tzemach David Foundation, dedicated to transforming the Israeli education system by providing support and fostering innovation, and the founder of the Tzion Development Initiative, a philanthropic family office for redeeming the Land of Israel. He is also the founder of The Future is Calling, a Tzemach David initiative that helps English-speaking Jewish students see Israeli higher education as a serious and inspiring path, while guiding them to strategically map their own trajectory toward a successful future as Hebrew-speaking Israelis who can intelligently integrate into Israeli society and help strengthen the country from within.