Young men returned because they had units to join and battles to fight. The decision carried risk and sacrifice, but it was also responsible, within the circumstances.
Today, the context is different. Israel still relies on reservists, but the people being flown back are not necessarily soldiers. Many are professionals whose work can be done remotely, at least for a while. The economy itself has slowed under the strain of war. Offices are half empty, meetings postponed, plans suspended. From a strictly practical and probably rational perspective, staying abroad would generally make more sense.
So why the rush to return?
Some is financial, of course: some people are on a budget and cannot afford to travel forever. There is also, of course, the emotional gravity of family. Even if one’s job can be done from a laptop in Lisbon or London, parents, siblings, and children are often in Israel. Watching a war from afar while loved ones shelter in stairwells can produce a powerful urge to return.
But a huge part of this is a deeply ingrained civic instinct – which results from both genuine patriotism and relentless Zionist messaging. Israel was built on a narrative of shared destiny. Wars were national moments, and the ethos of early Zionism celebrated the willingness to stand with the community regardless of personal cost. That culture still echoes today.
'Israelis feel that the only proper place to be is among fellow Israelis'
When missiles fly, many Israelis feel that the only proper place to be is among fellow Israelis. So when the country is under attack, the idea of sitting comfortably abroad can feel almost like desertion. Being present becomes a form of participation.
It is interesting that such is the pull of collective identity – despite the country's many corrosive divisions. It is, it can seem, as if a certain kind of Israeli is yearning for the less-fragmented past.
The media environment that amplifies urgency. Israeli television thrives on drama. Round-the-clock coverage, maps, alarms, and speculation create an atmosphere in which events feel even more immediate and existential than they already are. Israelis who are abroad, in the new digital environment, can watch the media back home, and many consume it much more than the increasingly unfriendly media where they are. In such an environment, the idea of Israelis abroad needing to be “rescued” can gain momentum almost by reflex.
Many, of course, harbor what can only be called a siege mentality. For generations, Israelis were taught that the world was not a reliable refuge. Jewish history, and the memory of moments when doors were closed, left a deep mark. The delegitimization Israel has suffered in the wake of the devastating war in Gaza deepens this.
For some, the expectation that Israelis should want to return in wartime can start to feel less like a personal choice and more like a social command. But not everyone accepts these premises. Many who live abroad watch the news coverage with a mixture of disbelief and humor. A friend of mine who lives in London sent me the following message just now: "I'm sitting in this pub. Rescue me from this inferno!"