Antisemitism surges worldwide, yet economic factors still dominate immigration decisions to Israel

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu echoed the sentiment, urging Western governments to do more to protect Jewish citizens, while framing Israel as the only place where Jews could truly be safe.

Now the government appears to be backing up the words with action.

According to the Hebrew newspaper Makor Rishon, officials have begun advancing an emergency immigration plan called Aliyat HaTekuma, designed to fast-track the immigration process for those coming from countries experiencing a surge in antisemitism.

With a target of absorbing 30,000 new immigrants in 2026, the proposal promises shorter waiting times, financial support, employment placement, and housing assistance in designated cities.

Alongside the governmental push, prominent pro-Israel influencers have intensified their calls for Jews to make aliyah. In some cases, the tone has shifted from inspirational to aggressive.

In a recent Instagram post overlaid with dramatic music, Fuld likened Diaspora Jews to “the nerd who can’t read the room and overstays his welcome at a party where he is not wanted.”

“You are not welcome in Australia,” he warned. “The UK doesn’t want you. Europe doesn’t want you. Canada has spoken, and Jews are no longer welcome. The same is true for the United States.”

Ariel Leah Gold, who runs the Instagram account thisisreallife, often frames aliyah as divinely commanded, accusing Jews outside of Israel of shirking their religious obligation.

“Like okay, you’re welcome for settling this land for you and doing my part as a Jew,” she wrote in one recent post. “Like why are you ignoring God? Let me guess – ‘It’s complicated.’”

These tactics have sparked backlash, even among those broadly supportive of aliyah. In Gold’s comment section, critics accuse her of shaming others. “Can we not do the whole smug new-immigrant thing?” one person wrote. “Even if it persuades more Jews to join us – which it doesn’t.”

Fuld, too, has faced criticism from followers who accuse him of being irresponsible or disingenuous about how difficult life in Israel can be.

“The people who can’t make it here are the exception to the rule,” Fuld has written. “If you’re smart, hardworking, and resourceful, you can make as much money here – or more – than anywhere else.”

It is a claim that is directly opposed to the classic aliyah joke: How do you make a small fortune in Israel? Come with a large one.

“Are people still telling that joke?” asked Prof. Sergio DellaPergola, laughing. “They used to say that when I made aliyah. And that was in 1966.”

DellaPergola, professor emeritus at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem and one of Israel’s leading demographers, disputes reports that immigration from Western countries has surged dramatically in response to antisemitism.

“According to the most reliable data, Western countries reached roughly 10,000 people in 2025,” a figure he calls “historically average, not exceptional.”

“If aliyah were truly responding proportionally to antisemitism,” DellaPergola said, “we would be seeing 20,000 immigrants from the US, not 2,000. We should be seeing 15,000 from France.”

Antisemitism, he added, is real and worsening, yet it is not reflected in immigration data.

“I travel constantly. I study this. I feel the tension. Jews are concerned in a way they were not before,” he said. “But the numbers remain relatively low.”

The reason, DellaPergola contends, is that fear alone rarely determines life-altering decisions. Economics does.

“There is a correlation between antisemitism and aliyah,” he explained, “But the correlation with economic opportunity is eight or 10 times stronger.”

Security concerns in Israel also complicate the picture, especially after Hamas’s October 7 attack. Or, as Israeli journalist Nir Kipnis wrote, “Sure, you might die from a terror attack or a missile at far higher rates than anywhere else – but hey, at least you’ll feel at home knowing that when the army or police finally arrive, they are ours.”

DellaPergola is inclined to agree. “The notion of Israel as the safest place for Jews is true in theory,” he said. “But it becomes grotesque, I’m sorry to say, the day you have 500 rockets fired from Iran.”

“The government ministries make things difficult for new immigrants, mainly when it comes to employment and the accreditation of their education and certificates from abroad,” he noted.

Two recent immigrants, Jenny Kohn and Laura Cappell, don’t disagree.

Kohn, in her 30s, made aliyah this year with her Israeli wife after more than a decade in Berlin. Born and raised in Australia, she had long considered aliyah abstractly but not as an urgent plan.

“My wife was very clear she didn’t want to come back,” Kohn said. “She left Israel because of how stressful life here felt.”

After October 7, that changed. Her wife felt an urgent pull to return, but the Israeli restaurant they owned made leaving complicated. Then came vandalism and threats.

“Not outright violence,” Kohn recalled, “but enough that I stopped feeling safe leaving my staff alone at night.”

Ongoing hassles with their landlord made the decision for them. They closed the restaurant and headed for Israel. Her wife returned first; Kohn followed months later. The aliyah process took much longer than expected.

“People say it takes a few months,” she said. “Double that. Triple it.”

At one point, Kohn had to hire an expensive immigration lawyer just to secure an appointment at the Interior Ministry.

The 12-day war with Iran didn’t help. The couple spent several frightening nights in public shelters with their dogs while Kohn waited for her appointments to be rescheduled. This, however, did not deter them from their decision.

“There are two kinds of safety,” she said. “Physical safety, and the emotional safety of living among people where you don’t have to wonder what they’ll do when things turn bad. I chose that trade-off knowingly.”

Still, Kohn is clear-eyed. “If you’re looking for the easiest life, this is not it,” she said. “I’ve lived in a lot of different countries. There isn’t any huge jump in quality of life here. But if you understand the trade-offs, it can still be the right choice.”

Laura Cappell, who made aliyah from Toronto, agrees. Antisemitism, she said, escalated in Canada almost immediately after October 7.

“It felt like it happened overnight,” she recalled. “And it just kept getting worse.”

She arrived in Israel in mid-2024 on a volunteer program, suspecting she might stay. Despite “tremendous support from Nefesh B’Nefesh,” the process took nearly a year, with delays, paperwork, and unexpected costs. She married shortly after arriving and relied heavily on her husband, who immigrated from France more than a decade ago, to navigate both the bureaucracy and the Hebrew.

“I had to leave everything I worked for in Canada,” Cappell said. “It felt like starting over from scratch – letting go of the life I imagined.”

Like Kohn, Cappell has no regrets. “I chose this set of problems,” she said. “In Canada, the fear was imposed on me. Here, the hardship is something I accepted.”

But she rejects the kind of messaging that presents aliyah as a simple solution.

“I fundamentally disagree with the ‘Just come, you’ll be fine’ approach,” Cappell said. “Not everyone is suited for life here. You need resilience – and you need to know what you’re getting into.

“Aliyah isn’t a quick fix,” she added. “It’s not a magic pill. It’s still real life – just with its own very specific challenges.”■