I was looking through some historical archives recently, and the sheer scale of the clandestine support for Israel before it was even a state is staggering. You have these stories of the Sonneborn Institute, which sounds like a boring academic body, but it was actually this incredibly high-stakes, secret procurement network. On July first, nineteen forty-five, Rudolf Sonneborn and a group of American Jews met in New York and essentially decided to bankroll a revolution. They were smuggling everything from industrial machinery to surplus B-seventeen bombers and aircraft parts to help the Haganah. It was a relationship built on survival and a shared destiny long before any official diplomatic ties or embassies existed. It was the diaspora acting as the state's secret weapon.
It is a foundational part of the story that often gets overlooked in favor of the post-nineteen-forty-eight military history, but you are right to start there. That era established a specific "contract" between the state-in-waiting and the people living outside of it. Today's prompt from Daniel is about how that contract is being torn up and rewritten in real-time. We are looking at the shifting and often strained symbiosis between the State of Israel and the global Jewish diaspora, contrasted with the rise of what we might call the "Israeli diaspora," or the yordim. I am Herman Poppleberry, and I have been diving into the latest data from the Jewish People Policy Institute, or the JPPI, to see how these bonds are holding up as of March fifteenth, twenty twenty-six.
It feels like we are in a very different era than the Sonneborn days. Back then, the diaspora was the lifeline for a fragile dream. Now, the state is a regional superpower with a nuclear deterrent and a massive tech economy, but the relationship with the very people who helped build it seems to be fraying at the edges. Daniel is asking us to look at whether Israel's role as the self-appointed protector of world Jewry is a functional reality or an overreach. Is it a "homeland" if the people living in the diaspora feel like the homeland is ignoring their values or, worse, putting them in danger?
The framing is the heart of the issue. Israel legally defines itself as the nation-state of the Jewish people. That is not just a slogan; it is embedded in the basic laws. But when the government in Jerusalem makes decisions that affect the identity or security of Jews in New York, London, or Paris, it creates this massive friction. We saw this clearly at the thirty-ninth World Zionist Congress in October twenty twenty-five. There were over fourteen hundred delegates there, and the air was thick with tension. It was not just about funding; it was about representation. The diaspora is asking: if we are part of this "nation-state," why do we have no say in the policies that define what it means to be Jewish?
That is the dual loyalty trap, right? When Israeli officials act as if they are the default representatives for all Jews everywhere, it can put diaspora communities in a very uncomfortable position. If a minister makes a controversial statement, Jews in the diaspora often find themselves being held accountable for it by their neighbors or their governments, even if they had no part in it. It is like being blamed for the actions of a distant relative you did not vote for.
We saw a vivid example of that in April twenty twenty-five when Itamar Ben-Gvir visited the United States. His presence sparked protests at Yale, the Capitol, and in New York. What was striking was that many of those protesters were themselves Jewish. They were essentially saying, "You do not represent us, and your presence here makes our lives harder." It highlights a growing gap where the Israeli government's agenda, particularly under the current coalition, is directly at odds with the values of large segments of the American and European Jewish communities.
It is not just about political statements, though. There is a structural disconnect that feels almost theological. You have the Kotel crisis, which seems to bubble up every few years like a recurring fever. The question of prayer rights at the Western Wall for non-Orthodox movements is a huge deal for Reform and Conservative Jews, who make up the majority of the American diaspora. When the Israeli government scraps agreements to appease Haredi political partners—which they did again recently—it sends a message that those diaspora Jews are second-class citizens in their supposed homeland. It is a "Nation-State Law" problem.
The two thousand eighteen Nation-State Law was a turning point. It was heavily criticized because it omitted any mention of the diaspora. Many saw that as a symbolic exclusion. It was as if the government was saying, "We want your money and your political lobbying, but we are not going to acknowledge your importance in our foundational documents." This has led to what I call the "transactional era." The nineteen-forty-eight model was center-periphery. Israel was the center, and the diaspora was the supportive periphery. In twenty twenty-six, we are moving toward a network model. The diaspora communities are becoming more autonomous and more willing to voice their disapproval.
So, how does the state try to fix this? I know they launched a new plan recently to encourage people to move to Israel despite the friction. Is the "Nevertheless" plan their way of saying "sorry"?
It is more of a pragmatic pivot. It is called "Nevertheless: Aliyah of Renewal." It was approved in late twenty twenty-five, and it is quite ambitious. They are targeting thirty thousand new immigrants for twenty twenty-six. To make it happen, they are offering some massive incentives that we have not seen on this scale before. For example, they are offering zero percent income tax for new arrivals throughout this year. They have also streamlined the bureaucracy significantly. We are talking about digital visa approvals promised within thirty days and a temporary suspension of certain apostille requirements through the end of twenty twenty-six. They are trying to make the "how" of moving to Israel so easy that people might ignore the "why" of the political tension.
Zero percent tax is a hell of a hook, especially for the tech crowd. But does it work if the ideological gap is still there? Can you buy a sense of belonging with a tax break?
The data suggests that the "hook" is not the tax break, but the fear of staying where they are. In twenty twenty-five, we saw about twenty-one thousand nine hundred immigrants arrive from over one hundred countries. Now, that sounds like a lot, but it was actually a sharp drop of about one-third compared to twenty twenty-four. A lot of that was due to a steep decline in arrivals from Russia, which had peaked after the war in Ukraine started. However, if you look at Western nations, the numbers are actually up. Aliyah from France jumped forty-five percent to about thirty-three hundred people. North American aliyah rose twelve percent to over four thousand one hundred, which is actually one of the largest numbers on record.
Why the spike from the West if the political tension with the Israeli government is so high? That seems counterintuitive.
It is the "Insurance Policy" effect. Antisemitism is the primary driver. The Jewish People Policy Institute’s January twenty twenty-six survey found that about one-fifth of diaspora Jews are at least considering aliyah, and for most of them, it is a response to the rising tide of antisemitism in Europe and North America. In France, for instance, antisemitic acts tripled compared to twenty twenty-two levels. For many, Israel remains the ultimate insurance policy, even if they do not agree with the current government's specific policies. They are moving to Israel not because they love the current coalition, but because they feel less safe in Paris or London.
It is a paradox. You are moving to a place because you feel unsafe elsewhere, but the place you are moving to is also the source of some of the political friction that makes you feel uneasy. It is like the Law of Return is the bedrock that survives even when the superstructure of the relationship is crumbling. But what about the institutions that are supposed to manage this? The Jewish Agency, the Sochnut? They seem caught in the middle.
The Sochnut has a very complex mandate. They facilitate aliyah and strengthen Zionist education, but they often find themselves caught between an Israeli government that wants to bypass them to deal directly with political allies and diaspora donors who want the Agency to be more assertive. Prime Minister Netanyahu has not been meeting regularly with American Jewish leaders, which has only added to the sense of isolation. When the government bypasses the established "bridges" like the Jewish Agency or the World Jewish Congress to talk to specific political or evangelical groups, it breaks the "broad tent" model of Zionism.
Let’s pivot to the other part of Daniel’s prompt, because this is where the data gets really interesting and a bit uncomfortable for the Israeli narrative. We’ve talked about people moving to Israel, but what about the people leaving? The yordim. The word itself—yordim—means "those who go down," which is such a loaded, judgmental term compared to "olim," or "those who go up."
This is a topic that was historically stigmatized. To leave was seen as a failure of Zionist ideals, almost a form of desertion. But that stigma has faded as Israel has become more globalized. In twenty twenty-five, the numbers were quite stark and, frankly, a bit alarming for the state. Approximately sixty-nine thousand three hundred Israelis left the country, while only about nineteen thousand returned. That is a net emigration of over fifty thousand people in a single year.
That is a massive number for a country of ten million. If you are losing fifty thousand people a year, mostly young and educated, that is a brain drain that could threaten the "Start-Up Nation" status.
It is. And the government is very careful about how they discuss these numbers. They prefer to focus on the aliyah figures from France or the US, but the migration balance is clearly negative right now. If you look at the total number of Israelis living abroad, the estimates are around six hundred thirty thousand as of a few years ago, but when you add in children born abroad, you are looking at nearly one million Israeli-connected people living outside the state. That is ten percent of the population.
Where are they going? I assume the United States is still the top destination for the tech sector and academia.
It is. About seventy-five percent of overseas Israelis live in English-speaking countries, and the United States accounts for roughly half of the total. Canada, the United Kingdom, and Germany are also major hubs. But what caught my eye in the recent reports is the shift toward Europe. Europe now hosts about thirty percent of Israelis living abroad. That is disproportionately high when you consider that only sixteen percent of the total global Jewish diaspora lives in Europe.
I saw a statistic about Ireland that blew my mind. The Israeli-born population there has grown by ninety-five percent over the last decade.
Ireland is a huge tech hub, so that makes sense for the Israeli tech sector. But it is happening all over. The Baltic countries saw a one hundred thirty-five percent increase. Bulgaria is up seventy-eight percent. Czechia is up seventy-four percent. In some countries, Israeli-born Jews now make up a huge percentage of the local Jewish population. In Norway, they are nearly half. In Finland, it is forty-one percent. In places like Bulgaria, Ireland, Spain, and Denmark, more than twenty percent of the Jewish community is actually Israeli.
So, instead of Israel being the center that absorbs the diaspora, we are seeing the creation of a new kind of diaspora—an Israeli one that is actually revitalizing or at least changing the face of existing Jewish communities in Europe. This is a complete reversal of the nineteen-forty-eight logic.
It is a transformation of the Jewish world. These yordim bring a different kind of Jewish identity with them—secular, Hebrew-speaking, and often more culturally Israeli than religiously Jewish. It creates this fascinating dynamic where you have the old-school diaspora communities trying to integrate these new Israelis, who might not have any interest in joining a synagogue but want a place to celebrate Hebrew culture or watch Israeli television. It is a "Hebrew-speaking diaspora" rather than a "religious diaspora."
It also complicates the government's role. How do you manage a relationship with your own citizens who have left, especially when many of them left because they were unhappy with the political or economic direction of the country? We saw huge protests in places like London and Berlin by Israelis living there during the judicial overhaul debates in twenty twenty-three and twenty twenty-four.
The state is still figuring that out. Historically, the approach was to ignore them or try to shame them into coming back. Now, there is a more pragmatic realization that having a million Israelis abroad is a strategic asset—a global network of sorts. But it is a double-edged sword. If your most talented and mobile citizens are leaving because of the cost of living or the political climate, it weakens the core. The "Nevertheless" plan is an attempt to stem that tide, but it is mostly focused on bringing new people in, not necessarily keeping the current ones from leaving.
It brings us back to that question of representation. If Israel claims to represent the Jewish people, does it also represent the Israeli diaspora? And if those two groups disagree—which they often do—whose voice carries more weight in Jerusalem?
The Israeli government’s priority will always be the voters in Israel, but they cannot ignore the financial and political support of the diaspora. However, that support is becoming more conditional. We talked about this in episode nine hundred eighty-one, regarding the fading pro-Israel consensus. The younger generation of diaspora Jews, especially in the United States, does not have the same automatic, unconditional attachment to Israel that their grandparents did. For them, the relationship is based on shared values, and when those values diverge—on issues like pluralism, human rights, or the role of religion in the state—the support weakens.
It feels like the era of the "blank check" is over. The relationship is becoming more transactional and more fragmented. You have some groups that are more supportive than ever, and others that are actively distancing themselves. It is no longer a monolithic "Jewish community" that the state can call upon.
And the Israeli government is leaning into that fragmentation. Instead of trying to represent the broad tent of world Jewry, they are increasingly focusing on the groups that align with their specific worldview. This is why you see Netanyahu bypassing the mainstream American Jewish leadership to speak to more conservative or evangelical groups. It is a strategic choice, but it risks permanently alienating the majority of the diaspora. It is a high-stakes gamble that the "new" supporters will be more reliable than the "old" ones.
What are the practical takeaways for someone looking at this from the outside? If you are a business leader or a policymaker, how do you read this shift?
First, you have to realize that the Jewish diaspora is not a monolith. The days when you could talk to one or two organizations and say you’ve spoken to "the Jewish community" are gone. Second, the rise of the Israeli diaspora is a major trend to watch, especially in Europe. These are highly skilled, highly mobile people who are influencing the tech and cultural sectors in cities like Berlin, Dublin, and Tallinn. They are a bridge between Israel and the world, but they are a bridge that functions independently of the state.
And for the state of Israel itself, the takeaway seems to be that the old rhetoric of being the homeland for all Jews is being tested by the reality of its own citizens leaving and its diaspora supporters pushing back. The "Nation-State Law" might say one thing, but the migration data says another.
The JPPI annual assessment is the primary metric to watch here. Their twenty twenty-six data shows that while the connection to Israel remains a core part of Jewish identity for many, the trust in the Israeli government as a representative of that identity is at a historic low. The "Nevertheless" plan might bring in thirty thousand people this year, but if sixty-nine thousand are leaving, the math is not in the state's favor in the long run. The "safety net" is still there, but the "home" part of the homeland is under renovation, and not everyone likes the new design.
It is a survival challenge, just a different kind than the one the Sonneborn Institute was helping with in nineteen forty-eight. Back then, it was about physical survival and getting enough rifles and planes to hold a border. Now, it is about the survival of a shared vision and a sense of belonging that transcends borders.
I think the most interesting takeaway is the shift from a center-periphery model to a network model. The future of the Jewish people may not be about everyone eventually moving to one small piece of land, but about a global network of communities, with Israel as a major hub, but not the only one. It is a more decentralized, more complex, and perhaps more resilient way of looking at it.
Which is a much more complex and perhaps more resilient way of looking at it, even if it makes the job of a government minister in Jerusalem a lot harder. They can no longer assume the diaspora will fall in line.
It certainly does. They have to earn that support, and right now, they are struggling to do that. The "unconditional" part of the relationship has been replaced by "conditional engagement."
Well, this has been a deep dive into a very thorny issue. We covered the historical roots of the Sonneborn Institute, the institutional friction at the World Zionist Congress, the ambitious new aliyah plans with their zero percent tax hooks, and the surprising data on the Israeli diaspora in Europe. It is a lot to chew on.
It really is. And if you want to dig deeper into the stats we mentioned, particularly about the shifting opinions in the United States, definitely check out episode nine hundred eighty-one, "The Opinion Gap." It provides the background on why that pro-Israel consensus is fading among younger generations and how that ties into the broader political shifts we are seeing.
Thanks as always to our producer, Hilbert Flumingtop, for keeping the gears turning behind the scenes. And a big thanks to Modal for providing the GPU credits that power the tech side of this show.
This has been "My Weird Prompts." If you are finding these deep dives useful, leaving a review on Apple Podcasts or Spotify really helps us get the show in front of more people. It makes a huge difference in the algorithms.
You can also find our full archive and RSS feed at myweirdprompts dot com. We will be back soon with another prompt from Daniel.
See you then.
