In Italy's Alpine Foothills, Israelis Are Starting an Expat Community. Similar Initiatives Aren't Far BehindIn the wake of the judicial coup, Israeli discussions about relocating abroad no longer stop at social media groups. In a lush valley in northwestern Italy, ideas of collective emigration are being played out on the ground – and similar initiatives are taking shape elsewhere as well
“As the number of hours of light in their country’s democracy keeps diminishing, more and more Israelis are arriving in the mountainous valley in their search for a new start. Among them are young people with babies in carriers, others with children of school age, and there are the graying-balding people like me. A teacher, a tech entrepreneur, a psychologist, a dog groomer, a basketball coach. Some say they’re only exploring, still ashamed to admit that they are seriously considering the option. Others look purposeful and motivated – looking into how to get a residency permit, how much a house costs, how to open a bank account and transfer your provident funds while it’s still possible. Underlying all this is a layer of pain, the pain of good Israelis who believed that after 2,000 years they could rest on their laurels, but were now taking up the wanderer’s staff once again.”
The writer is Lavi Segal, the mountainous area he is describing is in the Sesia Valley (Valsesia), in the Piedmont region of northwest Italy, at the foot of the Alps. Segal, the owner of a tourism business from the Galilee, shares his experiences with members of a Facebook group called Baita, which offers information to Israelis seeking to immigrate to and create their own community in Valsesia, many of whose original inhabitants have left in recent decades. The group’s name is an amalgam of Bait (Hebrew for “home,” or “house”) and Ita – short for Italy. Baita in Italian also translates as “hut in the mountains.” And these are not just any mountains: Valsesia is known as “the greenest valley in Italy.” Segal says what he’s presenting is a case of truthful advertising.
“With all due respect for the talk about ‘the beautiful Land of Israel,’” he tells Haaretz in a phone interview, “Israel is perhaps beautiful compared to Syria or Saudi Arabia [but] Europe and the Alps are a different world. The landscape is breathtaking, the weather is marvelous, and all the well-known troubles of Israel – wars, dirtiness, overcrowding, cost of living – simply don’t exist here.”
Segal has lived in Valsesia with his wife, Nirit, for two months; both are in their 60s. “We’re on a journey of familiarization and exploring,” he explains. “We’ve rented a house here, and every so often we talk to real estate agents about the possibility of buying one. At the moment we’re not talking about permanent uprooting, though that could happen if life in Israel becomes intolerable. For the time being we’re looking for a place where we can divide our time between Israel and overseas. Israel is very dear to us: When we’re there we’re active in demonstrations” against the government’s plans for a judicial overhaul.
Nirit, who organizes art retreats, is of two minds: “This place is a dream when it comes to creating art, but I’m very attached to Israel, and like many people in my circles I feel it today especially. I’m apprehensive about the implications of the wave of migration for the protest movement.”
For the time being, she’s decided not to decide, she admits. “I want to hold the stick at both ends. To take part in the protest, but also to stay here for long periods. To move between the two. We have been received here cordially. Despite the language difficulties, we’ve developed some pleasant and natural ties with people. It’s odd, but I’m getting attached.”
Lavi attributes less importance to the political upheaval back home when relating to the decision to investigate other options. “I didn’t need to witness current events in order to grasp that Israel is heading in directions that aren’t good,” he says.
The path of the Segals, who have three grown children, to settle in the valley is being paved thanks mainly to Lavi’s Lithuanian passport. “With it, we can stay indefinitely within the boundaries of the European Union, and the children can study and work. Who would have thought that after everything that happened to our people and to my family on Lithuanian soil, that a Lithuanian passport, of all things, would make this freedom of movement possible for us?”
In the meantime, they’re living in a quiet town that’s 650 meters above sea level.
Is the air thin?
Lavi: “No, it’s simply clean.”
And it’s not boring?
“I’ve had enough of doing in life, now I’m at a stage of being. I go down to the river and swim in the icy water, we take hikes. And I can also sit on a bench opposite the mountains, listen to the church bells, and as far as I’m concerned that makes my day.”
In contrast to the Segal family, with one foot in each location, the Golans have already struck roots in Valsesia. Maayan Golan, an occupational therapist, and her husband, Ram, an agricultural entrepreneur, who are in their 50s, were the first Israelis to purchase a home there, about half an hour from the main town, thanks to information and support via Baita.
The idea started to gel for them a year ago. “We went on a long trip through Europe by car and suddenly we discovered how much fun it is to move around the continent freely, without limitations,” Maayan says. “We decided that this is how we want to live.”
Why did you choose specifically to settle in Valsesia?
“It’s a combination of a strong attraction to the landscapes and the relatively cheap costs, or very cheap compared to Israel. In Israel we had no option of buying a house like the one we have here.”
Is that a good enough reason to emigrate?
“There are many reasons, but the main one is really economic. We were renting in Israel and that’s also very expensive.”
Did the political situation in Israel also play a part?
“You know, a year ago we left a functioning country. But yes, from our point of view, what’s happening now only strengthens the feeling that we made the right move. Let me put it this way: When we began to travel, we didn’t imagine that we were going to leave Israel. We’re a deeply rooted family for whom the saying ‘I have no other country’ is definitely not a cliché. But when we got to Europe, we saw that there are more possibilities.”
Of all the possibilities, you precisely chose a country whose prime minister, Giorgia Meloni, is from a party that has fascist roots, who is hostile to the liberal public.
It’s a breaking point for us. We’re both patriots, and there’s been quite a bit of crying lately, but we understand that Israel is no longer a safe place to live, that the country has changed.
Oded
“This may sound dumb, but it’s not ours: In Israel we are drawn in by what happens. Here, if something doesn’t appeal to us, we can leave without sentiments. In Italy ‘the despair becomes more comfortable’” – as playwright Hanoch Levin once said.
The couple own a farm in Moshav Ein Yahav, in the Arava desert, which they have rented out to help finance their stay in Italy. The longing for their four children are the only thing that is weighing down on their adventure. Still, two are on a post-army trip, one is a university student, and the youngest is doing a year of volunteer service. Next month his parents will go back to Israel to be with him when he begins his army service, after which they plan to return to Italy.
There are quite a few communities of Israelis around the world – in Berlin, in Portugal. Why not join one of the existing ones?
“We didn’t want to do that. We’ve lived in communal settings most our life: in a moshav or a village. We’ve had enough. One of the fine things about Baita is that there is no such commitment. You buy a home in the valley, and now it’s up to you how involved you will be. We won’t want to be isolated, with only Italians around us. It’ll be nice to spend time and to travel with Israeli friends from there, but we don’t necessarily feel a need to connect ourselves with community life.”
* * *
Two other Israeli families have already bought homes in Valsesia, and another 10 or so are at various stages of organizing their move there. But these are only the pioneers: About 800 people have signed up as members of the Progetto Baita nonprofit organization, which runs the Baita Facebook page, and two of its delegations have already toured the area. A third delegation of 35 people will be going there in the coming weeks, and due to demand, a fourth group will travel there in October. A July gathering organized by the nonprofit in Israel drew about 100 people.
The driving spirit behind the initiative is 61-year-old Ugo Luzzati, an Israeli who was born and spent his youth in Italy, who plans to settle in the valley next year. It all started in 2019, he says, when he bought a house in Valsesia for vacation getaways at the encouragement of his (now former) wife. From conversations with local residents, he discovered that the region, whose population has been depleted, is crying out for new blood. Last October, Luzzati posted a call on Facebook for people to join him, and in short order found himself investigating the intricacies of life in Valsesia, checking out employment possibilities for foreigners there and providing information on Italy’s immigration policies. He soon collected an initial group of interested people.
“At the time I wasn’t thinking of a venture for people affected by the [government’s judicial] coup, which in fact hadn’t begun yet then, at least not officially,” says Luzzati. “I wanted to propose an alternative to Israelis who were fed up with the overcrowding and wanted to be close to nature. In the meantime, it turned out that I had taken on a mission of helping to bring good Israelis to a different place, because I see that in Israel things are getting ruined.”
At first Luzzati became involved in the initiative as a volunteer. But when he found that he was spending most of his time assisting Israelis considering a move to the area, he made an arrangement with a local Italian realtor, by which he receives a commission for every deal signed. That arrangement allows him, he says, to oversee all aspects of his project. To his credit, it can be said that he is indeed devoted to his mission, and not only to its real estate aspects.
In one of his capacities, Luzzati serves as a miniature employment agency. Israelis interested in settling in this corner of the Piedmont region send him their résumé and he channels them to potential workplaces. He also publicizes information about residency visas and even organizes courses in Italian. To formalize all his activity, he created the Progetto Baita nonprofit.
His project is also open to Israelis who don’t have a European passport: Some sought meetings with Luzzati, prompting him to investigate, for example, how they can receive residency status in Italy (apparently, by possessing a digital nomad visa, having a contract with an Italian employer or investing in local real estate while showing proof of an ongoing, stable source of income).
Luzzati is meanwhile arranging for the next Progetto Baita delegation to meet with a representative of the Questura (the local police office), which deals with residency permits. During earlier visits he began to cultivate ties with local municipal and regional officials. The dialogue with them led to a written agreement with the valley’s municipal union, placing the project under its patronage and declaring that the union “accepts the members of the Baita Society with open arms and hopes to integrate them soon among the region’s residents.”
Indeed, the valley is in need of a shot in the arm. Settlement in Valsesia peaked in the early 20th century, when the population stood at 22,000. However, today there are fewer than 10,000 inhabitants; the population is ageing, and according to estimates there are about 1,000 houses that were abandoned as people moved out of rural areas in favor of urban life.
Luzzati explains that for the local population, revivifying the area is a genuine, existential need and is not driven solely by longings for its splendid past: “Suddenly a store in one of the villages shuts down because there is no reasonable justification for maintaining it, and the remaining residents can no longer buy bread. An electrician retires, so now go find another technician.”
* * *
Luzzati was born and raised in Genoa, and immigrated to Israel at the age of 23. He earned a living as a painter, a silversmith and sign designer. He and his family – he has five children – settled in the Galilee and although he felt he had integrated successfully in Israel, he always felt torn.
“From the moment I was able to read the news in Hebrew, I asked myself how long I would be able to remain in a country that was sliding into nationalist directions, intensifying the occupation and trampling the rights of the weakest and most downtrodden,” he explains, admitting that the idea of leaving “was always there, but I was busy making a living, raising kids, creating a home. All my energy went into that. We brought up our children on Zionist ideals, because all in all we believed in the state. We all volunteered for a year of community service [through a national volunteer program for high school graduates] and served in the Israel Defense Forces.”
Luzzati cites early November 2022, when the results of the election came out, as a seminal moment in the history of Baita: “On that day I received a torrent of inquiries from people who wanted to get out of the country.” At the same time, he is not comfortable with the idea that his venture will be associated with creation of a city of refuge for ostensible political exiles, and he stresses that his opinions about the current situation in Israel are solely his own.
“I grew up with the legends of the Jewish Brigade [in World War II], amazement at the achievements of the kibbutzim, the miracle that is known as the establishment of the State of Israel and its values of solidarity. All that is vanishing.”
Italy’s future also looks gloomier than ever. You are organizing immigration to a country that is ruled by a woman from the extreme right who is pursuing clearly antiliberal policies.
“To begin with, there is not just one Italy; there are a number of Italys. Every geographical region has its own cultural attributes. Valsesia is characterized by a very sympathetic attitude toward strangers. Over the years, small groups from Africa – Morocco, for example – have settled there, and recently also refugees from Ukraine. The locals set up non-profits for them, and schools that teach Italian. But the main thing is that in Italy there are innumerable checks and balances: two houses of parliament, a supreme court and a president, each of whom has the power to overturn laws. In addition, Italy has a strong constitution, and together with the European community is a signatory to conventions that protects the rights of minorities.”
Yes, but Meloni is already spearheading a contrarian approach vis-à-vis the European Union.
“The Italians are a nation that likes to talk, comedy is a way of life for them. But to leave Europe? For what? No one there is that much of an idiot. Italy sees how the economy fell apart in countries like Hungary and Poland, which deviated from the EU’s values. The Italian public will never buy into the exaggerated nationalist sentiments of a politician.”
You’re talking about constitutional mechanisms and culture, but Italy’s reality is already changing. Under the new administration, for example, registration of lesbian women as mothers is being stopped. Doesn’t Meloni worry you?
“I consider her a passing phenomenon. The democratic mechanisms [in the country] are not something abstract, but constitute a barrier to the extreme right to make good on the slogans it’s selling to the public. Italy is a country that sanctifies bureaucracy. The Italian character is to dress well, eat well and make life easy. No one really wants to put that at risk.”
At the recent Progetto Baita gathering in Israel, most of the participants were couples in the 40- to 60-year-old age range. The younger ones took an interest in education-related subjects (academic level of the schools, size of the classes, busing), whereas the older ones took an interest in local health care services. “At this rate, we’ll meet all the doctors in Israel there,” one person quipped, referring to reports about a wave of physicians weighing the possibility of relocating abroad. The audience reacted with wry laughter.
But the strongest reaction erupted after the participants heard that the Italy initiative would soon be publicized in the form of an article in Haaretz’s Hebrew edition (which appeared in the weekly magazine on August 25). The participants objected to this on various grounds, including due to the concern that after reading it, treasury or banking officials would set tighter restrictions on transferring money out of Israel.
Luzzati himself, however, has a different explanation for potential emigrants’ fear that they will be exposed: “Israeli culture subjects us to emotional and mental abuse. In no other country in the world, when people are looking for a better future elsewhere, are they made to feel they are doing something wrong. People are afraid, they don’t want to be exposed, so that their friends will not discover that they are considering yerida [emigration; literally “descending,” in Hebrew] from the country.”
In fact, even among the four families who have already taken the step and moved to Valsesia, there are some who do not want their real names mentioned. Among them are “Hagit” and “Dan,” aged 50 and 60, respectively, who moved to the valley in August with their son, who is entering 10th grade. They settled in Varallo, a town which, with its 6,500 residents, is the most densely populated locale in the area. For a spacious home on what they say is a large plot of land, they paid 57,000 euros, and added 10,000 euros for renovations. The money they get from renting out their home in Israel will tide them over comfortably, they say, until they acclimatize themselves in Italy in terms of employment.
“The surroundings here are a dream that words can’t describe,” Hagit says. “It’s simply paradise. Besides endless spaces, everything in Varallo is accessible and nearby. There are supermarkets, stores, a community center, schools, even a movie theater.”
Hagit describes the present dream, but Dan, who joins the conversation, harps on a dream that was shattered.
“We would not have left Israel were it not for the realization that it’s done for,” he says. “It hit me during Operation Protective Edge [in the Gaza Strip], in 2014. The disgust at the massacre that was perpetrated there, the fact that the whole political arena kowtowed to [Prime Minister Benjamin] Netanyahu, and to top it off, the dozens of soldiers who were killed there. I was always active in promoting peace initiatives, but that operation was the point at which I realized that there was no chance. The thing is that at the time our older children were still young – 13 and 14. Now they’re already post-army. All our hopes and dreams for them always sprang from a deep connection to this land. Today I feel that this is my last chance to infect them with another dream.”
In that sense, has the government’s judicial upheaval made it easier for you to take the step?
“On the contrary. In terms of conscience it’s far more difficult. I was totally active in the demonstrations, as part of the anti-occupation bloc. That’s a place where I still have partners in the cause, but among the general Israeli public I feel like an alien. Look, it’s encouraging to see the unity in many protests, but that doesn’t add up to any sort of alternative ideology. At the base of the base, there is no hope. To leave while Israel is bleeding is heartache. We are effectively admitting that we’ve failed.”
Hagit: “My grandfather and grandmother were active in the Tower and Stockade settlements [established by Jewish settlers in Mandatory Palestine]. They fled Poland and Austria in order to establish [Kibbutz] Hanita. It’s just incomprehensible that I, with this [foreign] passport, am now fleeing back to Europe.”
* * *
Fifty-eight-year-old Oded (not his real name), from the north of Israel, is planning to move to Valsesia next year with his partner and their 15-year-old son. The couple, who manage a business of their own, is currently living in so-called lookout community (typically picturesque locales located in the Galilee hills). “We looked for something similar, with nature and landscape, and in Italy we found something 1,000 times more pastoral and beautiful,” he says.
But the allure of verdant expanses in the Piedmont was not what spurred the couple’s decision.
“We decided to leave because in our opinion the country is in an accelerated process of economic and social deterioration, and when that process encounters a security crisis – that’s not a situation we want to be in. The attempt to turn the country into a dictatorship, even if it will be contained temporarily, will exact a steep price,” says Oded, adding that he speaks from experience, having grown up in Ceausescu’s Romania.
“I’m familiar with the damage a dictatorial government does to the functioning of the state, and above all I know how hard it is to topple a government like that,” he continues. “Once it’s entrenched, it spreads like a tumor, because many people have a direct interest in preserving it. It’s a real textbook case of what’s happening now in Israel: Unsuitable people are assuming senior positions on a basis of loyalty, offering some sort of payoff to cronies at lower echelons and so forth. Over time, a pretty stable pyramid gets built.”
Italy wasn’t the first country Oded and his wife considered. “At first we thought of Cyprus and even went there to check out a few options. But after visiting the valley it was obvious to us that it was the place,” he recalls. “The weather is pleasant, the level of health care is high, and Israel and Italy are signatories to all kinds of conventions and tax agreements that will make it easier for us to run our business remotely.”
The fact that Oded speaks Romanian also didn’t hurt: “Italian and Romanian are really sister languages, and Italian in general is quite an easy language. My wife has become very immersed in it; she’s learning Italian every day and enjoying it very much.”
The couple is enrolling their son in a Varallo high school, where classes are all taught in Italian. “I don’t know how much he gets what we’re doing,” says Oded, “but he’s a strong type.”
The family is now in final negotiations to buy a house in the valley. Their excitement, though, is tinged with sadness.
“It’s a breaking point for us,” he says. “We’re both patriots, and there’s been quite a bit of crying lately, but we understand that Israel is no longer a safe place to live, that the country has changed. When we began to get into the emigration groups [on social media], we saw the number of people who are thinking about leaving the country – and they are the very people who are holding it together. Even if the legislation is halted and we win the fight on points, Israel’s future is very far from rosy.”
* * *
Those who make the move to Valsesia will become acquainted with the seasonal cycle there, where winter is snowy, spring is a profusion of colors, summers are dressed in green and autumn is a blanket of fallen foliage. This is a place where rafting and kayaking sites abut schoolyards, where the head of a local council is also the village grocer, where a wandering farmers market shows up once a week, and sometimes also flea markets. Little creeks thread their way through the backyards of homes. Ski buffs have their choice of nearby resorts in Italy, Switzerland and France. Violence, crime and traffic jams are almost abstract concepts. But still, this partly empty Alpine valley, whose new Israeli residents describe it as paradise on Earth, is by locals to be a disadvantaged backwater.
Davide Filié, a Valsesia resident, is assisting with the integration of the Israelis. “When I was a child there were quite a few schools here and they were all full,” he relates. “Over the years families started to leave, especially to Milan and Turin. Some of them kept their house here and use it for summer vacation. There are only 13 people left in the village I grew up in, and there are other villages that are almost nonexistent today.”
Filié, who says he’s fond of languages, has been making a special effort lately to learn Hebrew, to help him communicate with the prospective newcomers. He says the possibility that Israelis will reinforce the dwindling local population is “too good to be true.”
But Luzzati is a big believer. “The truth is that we’re also building a community there,” he said at the meeting in Israel. “I’m cautious about using that word, because I know that there are many people in Israel who have been hurt by communitarianism. And it’s important for you to know that there is nothing binding in this connection: We will help anyone who wants to go there, unconditionally. But in the end the goal is to come together. The moment we collect a critical mass of people there who speak the same language, it will happen by itself. Perhaps we will set up a club, a community center. There’s no shortage of available buildings. It’s clear to me that a community will be created, I feel it in my soul. Ultimately, that’s the overall objective.”
* * *
Baita is one of the most active Israeli initiatives aimed at collective emigration, in practical terms, but similar groups also exist. In recent weeks a number of designated groups for relocation to various places – from Portugal and Spain to New Zealand – have been created on WhatsApp.
In most cases, these groups are primarily engaged with making information available. The conversation ranges from basic issues such as visas and taxation, to specific questions about transporting pets and tips about movers. From time to time the administrators of these groups organize Zoom meetings with lawyers or real estate agents from the target country, and sometimes also with Israelis who are already living there.
These groups do not purport to establish an organized system of emigration; their aim is to provide a tailwind for individuals and families seeking a change. Prominent among them are physicians, over 1,000 of whom became involved in designated relocation groups formed after the Knesset eliminated the so-called reasonableness standard for court decisions. The exchange of information in Facebook groups dealing with relocation is also more intense than ever. For example, administrators of the Israelis in Copenhagen group reported that in the past few weeks alone, some 1,000 people have asked to join.
Also at the height of its activity is Relocation from Israel Abroad, a private Facebook group. One of its administrators, Or Yochanan, an Israeli who lives in Austin, Texas, says that until last November the group numbered about 8,000 members who had gradually joined over the course of seven years of activity. The past few months have seen a surge to 27,000.
“What we’re seeing is unprecedented,” Yochanan says. “We are now experiencing an organic growth of 500 members a day. I have already seen all manner of peaks in times of security-related tensions, but in general it fades away. This time the level of involvement of the new members is incredible.”
Is it your impression that people are inwardly ripe for the move?
“Almost everyone we speak to is in some sort of stage – clarifications, interviews, citizenship and visa processes. Those who mock the people expressing a desire to leave, who shrug it off as just another ‘wave,’ don’t understand how determined they are and how deep the crisis is. I myself have emigrated completely, but I am definitely not one of those who wants to see a mass exit or a ‘let the country burn’ approach. That makes me very sad.”
* * *
New Israeli Village is a group that is on the seam between supporting those who are wrestling with the idea of leaving and more actively advocating for collective emigration. Its WhatsApp group was created shortly after Justice Minister Yariv Levin presented his plan for a “reform” of the country’s entire judicial establishment; the number of members rose in direct proportion to the advancement of the legislation. The group’s goals:
“Establishing a city of leading Israelis, in another country. Creating a community of a few thousand Israelis who hold in-demand professions, who will unite to obtain immigration visas collectively, purchase a particularly large tract of land in a good location, obtain building permits. From the outset the city will include a hospital at the highest level, high-tech firms, commercial centers and even Jewish-Israeli cultural centers. In the community we will also provide for older people, and those with special needs and complex medical problems, who in the [usual process of] emigration of individuals would be left behind.”
The group was established by Efrat, a lecturer on film, whose name has also been changed at her request. At first, she says, “it was half serious and half a protest group.” However, as time passed, what had begun as a conceptual exercise became a concrete initiative. Even foreign governments took note of the group emerging in Israel – with its mix of physicians, engineers and other attractive professions who are exploring a way out of the country.
“We held a Zoom [chat] with a Portuguese minister, we also had a conversation with someone from the Cypriot government,” Efrat notes. “Even the government of Zanzibar approached us through an Israeli who lives there. They made an incredible offer: an area by the sea, proper infrastructure. The truth is that I was stunned, but people in the group were less enthusiastic about moving to an undemocratic, Third World country. The majority prefer English-speaking countries: the United States, England, Canada.”
New Israeli Village currently numbers about 1,000 members. Recently a subgroup called New Israeli Village Canada, with some 600 members, split off from it, and is focusing on two possible destinations: Vancouver and Toronto.
Another initiative to establish an Israeli colony abroad, which is being conducted in the space between Facebook (where it is a private group) and Zoom, is New Israel – Israeli State, Democratic-Liberal. This group, started within the last year and now counting about 2,000 members, is being spearheaded by a high-tech entrepreneur named Yonatan Sela. He relates that he and his partner in the initiative set it in motion following the passage of the law annulling the reasonableness standard. “For years we talked about the subject and explored it, and now we feel the time has come to move to the stage of doing,” he says.
Their idea is to organize a massive land purchase in a country that has an economic, scientific and even security interest in absorbing human capital from Israel. In a Zoom meeting held in mid-August, Sela noted that New Israel (in Hebrew the words are rendered in transliteration) aspires to find property totalling about 60 square kilometers (23 sq. miles), which is about the size of the city of Rishon Letzion, south of Tel Aviv: “An area of that size will be able to constitute an infrastructure for a settlement community, not only for an initial core group but also for those who join [afterward].”
Sela stressed that the new community would be organized based on an Israeli – not a Jewish – identity. “Israeliness has been a distinct nation for a long time. Everyone who’s Israeli will be invited to come there, including Arabs,” he says, adding, “We aren’t there yet, but Cyprus looks like a good option.”
Israel 2.0 is yet another Facebook group that aims to help members of Israel’s despondent liberal camp to relocate, in this case, to the United States. “The intention is to build a new city from scratch, and from the ground up to construct infrastructures of education, industry, technology, health, law, culture and institutions in the spirit of our vision – of a democratic, liberal Israel,” says Gil Levy, who comes from the high-tech industry and is one of the leaders of this initiative. “We aspire to live there as Israelis with the unique culture that was created here, to maintain beautiful, good Israel within American society.”
How was the idea born?
“It’s playing out on social media, based on an understanding that even if we win the battle over the regime coup, the big campaign has already been decided. We thought that instead of individual migrants, we would go in a different direction. We’re talking about a heterogeneous group that will emigrate in a number of stages.”
According to Levy, an active core group is leading this venture. Recently they finished formulating their own manifesto of the new Israel, and have begun establishing work teams focusing on areas of interest to prospective immigrants, such as technology, education, medicine, academia and so on. They intend to contact members of the U.S. Senate, he adds: “The idea is to get a permit for mass immigration from Israel to the United States. We are starting to work on it. Noah didn’t start building his ark when the first drops of the flood fell. He had prepared ahead of time.”
* * *
After the judicial revolution was launched early this year, two initiatives sprang up for individuals from Israel’s high-tech industry who are contemplating relocation. In March, Yosi Taguri, the Israeli operations manager for U.S.-based ZipRecruiter, an employment marketplace, announced the launch of Noah’s Ark 2.0. He presented its members as “a group of people who share a common set of values and want to live together in order to build a better future.” Taguri declined to speak with Haaretz about where the initiative stands. “We’re not talking about it; the protest is the most important thing to invest in at the moment,” he stated.
A second venture, which was also launched in March with much fanfare but now appears to have faded, is called Plan B: A group of leading high-tech workers announced that they were in negotiations with European countries about establishing “a new home for the startup nation.” TheMarker reported that representatives of the group were indeed holding discussions with senior political officials in Greece and had also put out feelers in Cyprus and Portugal with the aim of creating an attractive emigration package for Israeli tech workers. The Plan B group described their project as undergoing planning at “an official state level” and as “something big and strategic.” In closed meetings, its leaders related that they had established a direct channel with the Greek foreign minister.
One of those leaders is Ori Hadomi, the founder of Mazor Robotics, a surgical device company that was sold for $1.6 billion. “Greece is a country that is crying out for economic development,” he says, “and here there are thousands of high-tech employees who are looking for alternatives before they scatter all over the world. This dialogue fits the Greek government like a glove.”
Nevertheless, Hadomi and his associates preferred to take a step back. “In the dialogue with them, which was intimate and took place at the highest levels, I said we had no intention of taking part in getting Israelis to move out of Israel. We passed the ball to them [the Greeks] and encouraged them to be active in formulating attractive packages for potential emigrants. From our side, I don’t know of any organized group that is working with them at the moment to advance the idea. I will not be the one who sails boats from Israel to Greece – the wind that’s blowing propels them by itself.”
