Over the weekend, Haggai Segal called on American Jews to pack their bags and come home. A day later, reporting on Ynet revealed that the aliyah and integration minister is actively encouraging immigration from North America but primarily from the religious community.
Taken together, these messages are not merely tone-deaf. They are deeply misguided. Worse, they reflect a kind of thinking that is both arrogant and, ironically, profoundly galuti, narrow, insular, and unable to see beyond its own immediate social and ideological boundaries.
There is a certain hubris in telling millions of Jews how and why they should live their Jewish lives, while simultaneously signaling that only some of them are truly desired. It is a vision of aliyah that is less about building a shared future and more about reinforcing a particular demographic preference. That is a diminished Zionist ideal.
One of the great achievements of the State of Israel was supposed to be the opposite – the ability of Jews to think expansively again. In the Bible, the Land of Israel is referred to as eretz rehava – a land with a wide perspective. This was meant to serve in stark contrast to Mitzrayim (from the Hebrew “metzar,” meaning strait land). Zionism was meant to liberate Jewish imagination from the constraints of exile. The return to history, to power, and to responsibility was supposed to broaden our horizons, not shrink them. And all this while not compromising on our Jewish heritage.
And yet, when aliyah is framed as a call only to the like-minded, or as a corrective to the supposed failures of Diaspora Jewish life, it betrays that larger vision. It suggests that Israel has not fully internalized its own revolutionary promise.
Israel provides an alternative lifestyle for Diaspora Jews
Let us be clear, there are compelling reasons for North American Jews to consider aliyah. A life in Israel offers the possibility of full participation in Jewish public culture, a deeper immersion in Hebrew, and a sense of collective purpose that is difficult to replicate elsewhere. At a time when Diaspora communities face rising polarization, questions of identity, and renewed antisemitism, Israel can and should stand as a powerful alternative.
But an alternative must be attractive. It cannot be built on the negation of the Diaspora, or of those who do not fit a particular mold. Nor can it ignore the ways in which Israel itself has, at times, struggled with racism, exclusion, and small-mindedness. If Israel is to serve as a beacon, it must first ensure that its own house reflects the values it hopes to project.
Encouraging aliyah from North America should indeed be a national priority. But it must be pursued in a dignified and respectful way, not as a selective invitation, and not as a judgment on those who choose differently. It must speak to the full diversity of the Jewish people, religious and secular, liberal and conservative, affiliated and searching.
More than that, it must be rooted in a broader ethical vision. Israel should aspire not only to gather Jews, but to model a society that resists the very forms of narrowness and prejudice that have so often plagued Jewish history. A society confident enough in its identity to welcome difference, and wise enough to understand that strength is measured not by uniformity but by the ability to hold complexity.
If we truly want American Jews to come, we should start by building a country that all Jews and, indeed, all people can look at and say, that is a place worthy of our future.
Anything less is not only unconvincing. It is, in the deepest sense, a failure of imagination.
The writer is the founder and director of ITIM.