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The quiet wave of Arab emigration from Israel: ‘Every day felt like I was on trial to prove I was a good citizen’
This article was produced through a collaboration between Shomrim, an investigative outlet, and Wasla, an Arabic-language business news site, and was published on both platforms.
More than 207,000 Israelis left the country between 2023 and 2025. Arab citizens account for only a small share of those emigrants: 6.2% in 2024, lower than their share in the population. But surveys from the past 12 months forecast a change: between 20% and 30% of Arab citizens say that they are considering leaving Israel.
Increasingly, Arab families, including many with established careers, are choosing to build new lives abroad. Their reasons go well beyond economics: they cite fears of future wars, a surge in organized crime and deadly violence within Israel’s Arab communities, and a growing sense that they no longer belong.
Dr. Nasreen Haj-Yahya, a social and family researcher who is also a couples and family therapist, says that the fact that more families are even talking about the possibility of leaving the country shows that a change has taken place. “Arab families in Israel are not migrant families by nature,” she says. On the contrary: one of their defining characteristics is that they stay on their land, close to their extended families and to the places they grew up. “Physical and geographical proximity to the family is part of our social structure,” she explains.
According to Haj-Yahya, when families buy a one-way ticket, it is a response to extreme pressure. “It’s not something that fits in with the structure of the Arab family. For a family to get up and leave, there must have been very extreme forces at work.”
These forces are not primarily economic. Haj-Yahya explains that the question of emigration has become a key issue among the families she sees at her clinic and encounters in her research. “The war created a lot of uncertainty, fear and a kind of hopelessness,” she says. “At the same time, violence within Arab society is no longer perceived as something that only affects people involved in criminal activities. Violence is also visited on innocent people, making people fear for their very existence.”
There is also a sense of being silenced. Members of a young and educated generation, who were raised on values like freedom of expression and human rights, found themselves, in the aftermath of the Oct. 7 attacks, afraid to speak their minds. “People feel as if their mouths have been shut. The possibility of living somewhere where they can speak freely and feel safe has become one of the main reasons for emigration.”
Haitham Khalaila, 53, married with one child, from Shefa-Amr, an Arab city in Northern Israel. Returned to Israel from the United States in 2008 and emigrated back to Michigan in 2024
Khalaila decided to leave for the United States again after seeing the psychological effect of the war on his 10-year-old son. “When the war started, I felt completely helpless to protect my son, who was 10 at the time. Every time the siren went off, we’d run for cover, but we didn’t have a bomb shelter near our house. I felt like I couldn’t even give my family the bare minimum of a sense of security. My son refused to sleep alone and kept asking me, ‘Who’s going to raise me if you guys die in the war?’ Those questions are what made up my mind. I realized the fear had already scarred him.”
At first, his wife was very resistant to the idea of moving away from Israel. “She was really hesitant. She doesn’t speak English, she has no family here, and the move terrified her. But as the war dragged on, she realized we had to do it to save our kid.
“The beginning was incredibly expensive. We had huge expenses for lawyers and sorting out my wife’s legal status, and we bought a house for $480,000 with a mortgage. Today I’m working as a big-rig truck driver making around $8,000 a month. It’s a fresh start in every sense of the word.
“Even after we got to the U.S., my son would panic at the sound of regular airplanes, thinking they were drones coming to bomb us. Today he’s calmer, more confident, and introduces himself freely as a Palestinian Muslim. For me, that says it all. If the situation back home stays the way it is – with no security, a high cost of living, and no real change — I don’t see a stable future to bring my family back to. I have no intention of going back.”
Noura Amouri, 43, married with two children from I’billin, a local municipality in northern Israel. A former occupational therapist for the Ministry of Education and a clinic owner, she emigrated with her family to the town of Varallo in Italy
You lived a stable life — professionally and economically. What caused a family like yours to pack up everything and leave?
“It was never about work or money. The decision started to form because of this constant, lingering fear for the future, and especially the violence that keeps getting worse within Arab society. I felt like my kids were growing up in an environment that didn’t give them real opportunities or any sense of security. When you realize you can’t even protect your children’s mental well-being — the clinic, the pharmacy and the house all lose their value.
“Because of a delay with my husband’s work visa, we moved temporarily to Canada for two months. We burned through about 100,000 shekels [about $33,000] there on housing, paperwork and living expenses. That amount would have lasted us a whole year in Italy. Today we’re living on my husband’s income as a pharmacist and on our savings. I’m trying to get my degree recognized so I can get back to work.
“For the first time, I see my kids living a calm, freer life. They play outside, walk around and just feel safe. That alone tells me we made the right choice. But the truth is, homesickness never leaves you. The little details of our old house haunt me even here. I miss my home, the smallest things in it, even the couch I left behind. When you emigrate, you aren’t just leaving a place. You’re leaving a piece of your memory behind.
“As far as we’re concerned, the decision to leave the country is final. There’s no going back. Italy might just be a stepping stone for now and it’s not certain this is where we’ll settle down for good, but the decision not to return home has already been made.”
Rania Laham, 50, married with two children, from Haifa. A VP at a non-profit organization, she moved to Limassol, Cyprus.
Unlike most migration stories, yours unfolded in reverse — you emigrated while your young daughter stayed behind in Israel. How did that shape your life?
“Usually, kids move with their parents. With us, it was the other way around: we left and our daughter stayed behind. For my husband and me, that’s the most painful part of this whole move. My husband, our 16-year-old son and I moved to Cyprus, while our oldest daughter, who is 19, stayed to continue her university studies. It’s a tough situation, but we temporarily sacrificed our life together as a family so we wouldn’t disrupt her education and her future.
“Cyprus wasn’t some long-held dream. It was just the most practical choice: close enough that we can keep a connection to the work and the life we left behind, but it also gives us more peace of mind. The mental toll was a huge factor. We just couldn’t take any more wars and the constant murders and crime within Arab society.
“I’m still working as the deputy director of the I’lam Media Center and the non-profit’s financial manager. I can work remotely without any issue. The fact that I kept the exact same job gave us financial stability and made the move feel less risky, since we didn’t lose our main source of income. It’s true that rent in Limassol is relatively high, because it’s the most expensive city on the island, but daily expenses and food are cheaper than back home.
“I don’t look at this move as a final step, but more like an open-ended experiment that depends on what happens back home. Ultimately, whether we stay here or not depends mostly on my ability to keep working remotely and secure my livelihood.”
Shaden Atiya, 43, married with two children. A pharmacist from Jerusalem, she moved to Barcelona
When did you decide you’d had enough of life in Israel?
“I spent many years living between Jerusalem and Beit Jala. Our lives revolved around daily commutes, checkpoints and closures. My husband’s work in the hotel industry took a hit time and time again — first during COVID and then with the war. At first, we thought about moving mostly for financial reasons, because housing prices in Jerusalem made buying a home almost impossible. But after the war in Gaza, the move became a mental and political necessity. I felt like we just had to have a fresh start, away from the suffocating atmosphere and the uncertainty.
“Today, in Barcelona, for the first time I feel like I can freely and calmly define myself as a Palestinian. I’m no longer living with the constant tension and stress that followed me for years. The fact that we have relatives here was a major factor, and we also felt that Spanish society is close to Arab society in certain ways — in social relationships, the weather and the lifestyle. The beginning wasn’t easy. The paperwork took nearly two years and cost us close to 100,000 euros [about $114,000] out of our savings. We also had to learn both Spanish and Catalan. Today I’m working part-time as a pharmacist alongside an independent project I’m developing and my husband works in marketing for a medical equipment company while also doing some remote work.”
What is your work environment like now compared to how it was in Israel?
“I had a really hard time adapting to working with Israelis. More than once, I felt discrimination and racism because of my Palestinian identity. I tried to find Palestinian workplaces, but the wage gaps pushed me to work in Israeli institutions. Here, I’ve completely freed myself from that daily stress.”
Will you ever return home?
“The question of remaining abroad or going home depends entirely on what happens in Israel.”
Wafaa Haj-Yahya, 46 married with two children, from Taibeh, an Arab city in central Israel. A gormer organizational consultant and kindergarten director, she emigrated with her two sons to Dubai
“I first started having thoughts about leaving back in 2014. I was in the hospital right after giving birth to my second son when I heard that the principal of the school where I worked had been murdered. When he was killed, I realized that was it. Something inside of me broke. It left a deep wound and for the first time, I asked myself if I really wanted my kids to grow up in this kind of reality. But at the time, the price of leaving felt impossible: we had a house, I had a stable job as a kindergarten director in a Jewish community, my husband was working too, and the thought of giving everything up and starting over terrified me.
“When I arrived in the Emirates in 2022 with my two sons, I felt a sense of security I’d never known before. I made a quick decision to buy a house there as an investment and a foundation for the future. I paid a down payment of about 200,000 shekels [about $66,7000] and later committed to monthly payments of about 10,000 shekels [$3,300] for 30 months. But the real reason we left was life in Taibeh: our house was broken into five times, I was exposed to murders that deeply affected me and my husband was injured trying to stop one of the thieves. Fear has just become a part of our daily life.
“During the first year of the war, I ran a kindergarten in Kfar Saba with a Jewish staff. I happened to overhear one of the assistants say she hoped Itamar Ben-Gvir would stay in the government so that not a single Arab would be left in the country. Precisely because my relationship with the staff was good, that sentence shook me. It reinforced the feeling that I don’t want my children to live in a place where their very existence is seen as something to be rejected.
“Back home, I constantly felt like I was on a daily trial to prove I was a good citizen. That feeling wore me down and it was only in Dubai that I realized just how exhausted I was. Today I’m planning my future in peace and I have no intention of going back.”
The post The quiet wave of Arab emigration from Israel: ‘Every day felt like I was on trial to prove I was a good citizen’ appeared first on The Forward.
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Why did Moses command Jews to choose between a blessing and a curse?
אין פּרשת ראה רופֿט משה רבינו דאָס ייִדישע פֿאָלק צו זען די ברכה און די קללה, וואָס דער באַשעפֿער גיט פֿאַרן מקיים זײַן אָדער, חלילה, פֿאַרן עובֿר זײַן אויף זײַנע מיצוות. „ראה, אָנוכי נותן לפֿניכם היום ברכה וקללה“ — זעט, איך גיב אײַך הײַנט אַ ברכה און אַ קללה.
אין די פֿאָריקע פּרשיות האָבן מיר שוין דערמאָנט, אַז דער חומש „דבֿרים“ פֿאָקוסירט אויף דירעקטע באַציִונגען צווישן דעם מענטש און דעם באַשעפֿער. דער רבונו־של־עולם האָט אָנגענומען משה רבינוס ווערטער ווי אַן אינטעגראַלן חלק פֿון זײַן תּורה, ווײַל משה האָט דערגרייכט די הויכע מדרגה פֿון אַ געטלעכן מענטש; די הייליקע שכינה אַליין האָט גערעדט דורך זײַן מויל.
אויב אַזוי, קאָן מען פֿאַרשטיין, אַז פֿון משה רבינוס דערהויבענער פּערספּעקטיוו האָט ער פּערזענלעך געזען די ברכות, וואָס קומען ווי אַ רעזולטאַט פֿונעם מקיים זײַן די מיצוות. אין אונדזער פּרשה לייענען מיר אָבער, אַז משה האָט אָנגעזאָגט די ייִדן דורכצופֿירן אַ קאָקרעטן ריטואַל בעתן אַרײַנקומען אין ארץ־ישׂראל, כּדי יעדער זאָל משׂיג זײַן די דאָזיקע קאָנצעפּציע מיט זײַנע אייגענע אויגן. ווי די תּורה דערקלערט שפּעטער, האָבן זעקס ייִדישע שבֿטים געדאַרפֿט זאָגן אַ גאַנצע ריי ברכות אויפֿן באַרג גריזים, און די אַנדערע זעקס שבֿטים האָבן געשאָלטן די רשעים אויפֿן בשכנותדיקן באַרג עיבֿל, כּדי אויף אַ גשמיותדיקן אופֿן צו שילדערן דעם חילוק צווישן שׂכר־מיצוות און דער שטראָף פֿאַר עבֿירות.
די חסידישע מפֿרשים אַסאָציִיִרן דעם נאָמען פֿון אונדזער סדרה מיט די ניסים פֿון מתּן־תּורה. די תּורה באַטאָנט, אַז ווען דער אייבערשטער האָט געגעבן די תּורה אויפֿן באַרג סיני, האָבן אַלע ייִדן געזען דאָס קול פֿונעם באַשעפֿער; די חז״ל דערקלערן, אַז דעם אייבערשטנס ווערטער האָבן זיך אין זייער שׂכל פֿאַרוואַנדלט אין וויזיעס.
הרבֿ אַריה קאַפּלאַן, דער באַקאַנטער וויסנשאַפֿטלעך־אָריענטירטער פּאָפּולאַריזאַטאָר פֿון קבלה און חסידות, האָט אין זײַנע ווערק מסביר געווען, אַז לויט דער מאָדערנער פּסיכאָלאָגיע זענען די דאָזיקע דבֿרי־חז״ל גאַנץ פֿאַרשטענדלעך. הגם אונדזער מוח באַהאַנדלט די אינפֿאָרמאַציע פֿון די אויערן און אויגן אויף באַזונדערע אופֿנים, איז דער פּראָצעס בעצם דער זעלבער. אין אויסעראָרדנטלעכע סיטואַציעס – און די מתּן־תּורה איז זיכער אַ גוטער בײַשפּיל דערפֿון – קאָנען אונדזערע חושים זיך צונויפֿשמעלצן. למשל, ווען מיר זעען אַ חלום און עצעמער פּרוּווט אונדז אויפֿצוּוועקן, ווערן די ווערטער פֿונעם דרויסנדיקן מענטש צומאָל פֿאַרוואַנדלט אין חלומדיקע וויזועלע פֿיגורן. אין דער הײַנטיקער פּסיכאָלאָגיע ווערן אַזאַ פֿענאָמען אָנגערופֿן „סינעסטעזיע‟.
די תּורה בלײַבט אָבער אַקטועל אין יעדן דור. הגם מיר זענען ווײַט פֿון משה רבינוס דערהויבענער מדרגה פֿון דבֿקות און פֿונעם מיסטישן שׂכל־צושטאַנד בעת דער מתּן־תּורה, זאָגט אונדז משה רבינו קלאָר, אַז אין אַ געוויסער מאָס קאָנען מיר אַלע זען די פּירות פֿון אונדזער עבֿודת־השם אין דער וועלט. די גײַסטיקע דערפֿאַרונג בײַם באַרג סיני בלײַבט אײַנגעקריצט אין אונדזערע נשמות, און מיר זענען טאַקע מסוגל צו זען מיט אונדזערע אויגן דעם באַשעפֿערס שפֿע פֿאַרן מקיים זײַן די מיצוות.
אין די פֿריִערדיקע צוויי סדרות האָבן מיר געלייענט די ווערטער פֿון דער וויכטיקסטער ייִדישער תּפֿילה: קריאת־שמע. צוויי מאָל אַ טאָג, מוזן מיר זיך דערמאָנען, אַז אַלץ אין דער וועלט איז אַ געטלעכע אַנטפּלעקונג. דער אות „ח‟ אינעם וואָרט „אחד‟ איז מרמז בגימטריא, אַז דער רבונו־של־עולם איז איינער אויף די זיבן הימלען און אויף דער ערד, און דער אות „ד‟ דערמאָנט אונדז, אַז אין אַלע פֿיר ריכטונגען אַרום אונדז און אין אַלע פֿיר עלעמענטן פֿון דער נאַטור דערשפּירט זיך דער געטלעכער כּוח. ווי רבי לוי־יצחק באַרדיטשעווער, דער באַרימטער חסידישער צדיק, זינגט אין זײַן ניגון „דודעלע‟, געפֿינען מיר איבעראַל דעם אייבערשטן און פֿאָרט בלײַבט ער פֿון אונדז באַהאַלטן. ווי דער בעל־שם־טובֿ האָט זיך אויסגעדריקט, ווען אַ בלאַט פֿאַלט אַראָפּ פֿון אַ בוים, איז עס אַ טייל פֿונעם געטלעכן באַשאַף־פּלאַן.
אויב מע טראַכט זיך אַרײַן, זעען מיר יעדן טאָג מיט אונדזערע אויגן גאַנץ קאָנקרעטע ברכות און קללות אויף אַ גאַנץ פּשוטן אופֿן, אָן קיין הויכע עבֿודות און מעדיטאַציעס. אַדרבה, צום באַדויערן, זענען די מענטשן אָפֿטמאָל אַליין שולדיק אין דעם, וואָס דעם אייבערשטנס השגחה בלײַבט פֿון אונדז באַהאַלטן. ווען אין די נײַעס דערציילט מען שרעקלעכע ידיעות וועגן מלחמות און אַנדערע צרות, דאַרפֿן מיר געדענקען, אַז די וועלט נייטיקט זיך אין אַ תּיקון. וואָס מער מיר זאָרגן זיך וועגן די מיצוות בין אָדם־לחבֿרו, אונדזערע עטישע פֿליכטן לגבי אַנדערע מענטשן, אַלץ קלאָרער זעען מיר מיט אונדזערע אויגן, ווי די וועלט ווערט אַ בעסער געבענטשט אָרט.
דער גרויסער מקובל און בעל־מוסר אלעזר אַזכּרי באַמערקט אין דער הקדמה צו זײַן „ספֿר־חרדים‟, אַז דער באַקאַנטער ספֿרדישער צדיק רבי יוסף סרגוסי האָט זוכה געווען צו דערגרייכן אַ הויכע מדרגה פֿון רוח־הקודש, ווײַל ער פֿלעגט אַרומלויפֿן אין צפֿת, כּדי שלום צו מאַכן אַפֿילו צווישן צופֿעליקע צעקריגטע אַראַבישע פּאָרפֿעלקער. אונדזער באַטייליקונג אינעם וועלט־תּיקון, לאַוו־דווקא אין אונדזערע אייגענע קהילות, ברענגט גאַנץ פּראַקטישע רעזולטאַטן סײַ אין דער אַרומיקער סבֿיבֿה, סײַ אין אונדזערע נשמות.
פֿון דער צווייטער זײַט, כּל־זמן ערגעץ אין דער וועלט הערשט שׂינאה און אומיושר, בלײַבן מיר אין גלות, פֿאַרזונקען אין סיטרא־אַחרא. אַדרבה, ווען אַ ייִדישע קהילה זאָרגט זיך בלויז וועגן אירע אינערלעכע ענינים, ווערט זי אָפֿט באַוואַקסן מיט אַ גאַנץ פּעקל קללות און צרות. אין אַ סבֿיבֿה, וווּ מע היט זיך אָפּ אויף כּלערליי אופֿנים פֿון דער „פֿאַרשאָלטענער‟ דרויסנדיקער וועלט, קריכן גרינג אַרײַן אינטריגעס, קריגערײַען און אַנדערע פּראָבלעמען; צוליב אַזאַ באַציִונג, נעבעך, קאָן מען אַליין פֿאַרשאָלטן ווערן. אויב מע טראַכט זיך אַרײַן, קאָנען מיר גאַנץ קלאָר דערזען, אַז די וועלט נייטיקט זיך אין אונדזער גלאָבאַלער עבֿודת־התּיקונים; די לעכערדיקע און קרומע באַציִונג צו די מיצוות בין אָדם־לחבֿרו זענען אַ קוואַל פֿון בפֿירושע קללות.
עס באַקומט זיך, אַז וואָס שייך די צווישן־מענטשלעכע מיצוות, איז גאַנץ גרינג צו דערזען די ברכות און קללות, וואָס ס׳שטעקן אין זיי. די תּורה באַטאָנט אין אונדזער פּרשה, אַז דער אייבערשטער האָט פֿאַרטריבן די כּנענים און געגעבן זייער לאַנד צו ייִדן נישט צוליב די ייִדישע זכותים, נאָר צוליב די רישעותדיקע מעשׂים פֿון די אַמאָליקע כּנענישע פֿעלקער, וועלכע האָבן אויף עקסטרעם אַכזריותדיקע אופֿנים צעטראָטן די עטישע יסודות פֿון מענטשלעכקייט.
פֿון דער צווייטער זײַט, איז גאַנץ גרינג צו דערשפּירן די ברכה אין אַ היים, וווּ עס הערשט שלום־בית און פֿרידלעכע באַציִונגען מיט די שכנים. אין אַ שיל, וווּ אַלע מתפּללים זענען בשלום איינער מיטן צווייטן און האָבן דרך־ארץ פֿאַר דער אַרומיקער וועלט רוט אויך אַ געזונטע און געבענטשטע אַטמאָספֿער.
רבי פּינחס־אליהו האָראָוויץ דערקלערט אין זײַן „ספֿר הברית‟, אויפֿן סמך פֿון רבי חיים וויטאַל און אַנדערע קלאַסישע קבלה־קוואַלן, אַז אין אַ ברודערלעכער און פֿרײַנדלעכער געזעלשאַפֿט קאָנען אַפֿילו דורכשניטלעכע מענטשן דערגרייכן דעם רוח־הקודש. אויב מיר זענען מקיים ווי געהעריק די מיצוות בין אָדם־לחבֿרו, קענען מיר אויך דערזען די ברכה, וואָס שטעקט אין די מיצוות בין אָדם־למקום, ריין־גײַסטיקע באַציִונג־ענינים צווישן דעם מענטש און דעם אייבערשטן. כּדי צוצוקומען אויף וויפֿל מע קען צו דער שכינה־אַנטפּלעקונג און אויסצומײַדן די דערמאָנטע קהילה־פּראָבלעמען, מוזן מיר זיך קודם־כּל פֿאָקוסירן אויפֿן סאָציאַלן אַספּעקט פֿון דער תּורה, וואָס דערמעגלעכט צו זען דירעקטע פּאָזיטיווע רעזולטאַטן פֿון אונדזער עבֿודת־השם.
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In the Michigan Senate race, Jews should (and will) vote for democracy
Michigan Jews are feeling the ground shifting beneath us. For the first time, the Democratic candidate to represent Michigan in the United States Senate is not an advocate of unconditional support for Israel’s government. And he is one of a growing number of progressive leaders pushing the Democratic establishment to fight for the values it claims to stand on.
Many in our communities hoped for a different outcome in yesterday’s primary and feel destabilized by the shifting political terrain. Others feel hopeful, for the first time, of being represented on the electoral stage. Moving into the general election, when the stakes are so high, I would like to refocus the conversation on our shared values.
When I cast my ballot Tuesday, and when I cast it again in November, I do so with the wisdom of Pirkei Avot 1:18 in mind: on three things does the world stand — on justice, on truth, and on peace, as it is said: “execute the judgment of truth and peace in your gates” (Zechariah 8:16). Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliel and others of his generation were building communities out of the rubble of the Temple’s destruction. They asked themselves, as they rebuilt: what are our core principles? What values need to sit at the center of this new order? Out of the wreckage, what new world will we create?
Let those three pillars be our voting guide.
Din — Judgment. Who will fight for fairness? Who is beholden to corporate interests and who will stand for economic equality? A candidate’s record on wages, on housing, on the right to organize — these will show commitment to justice.
Emet — Truth. Who tells us the truth, even when it costs them? In the words of former Rep. Andy Levin, we are looking for “authenticity, bravery, and truth-telling.” Who can help to rebuild trust in our public servants and institutions?
Shalom — Peace. Which candidate will challenge the military-industrial complex? Who will work to reduce war and violence in our world, rather than fund more of it? At home and abroad.
In this election, we have an unusually clear lens for understanding a candidate’s values: immigration enforcement. Immigration and Customs Enforcement — ICE — is where our society’s authoritarian drift is most visible and most violent. So as we lean on the pillar of Shalom to consider candidates, we can ask a direct question: is this someone who will bakesh shalom v’radfehu — seek peace and pursue it — for the people in ICE’s crosshairs? Or will they support the expansion of a paramilitary force into our schools and neighborhoods?
Justice, Truth and Peace — these are the values upon which “the world stands.” But what does it mean for the world to stand? A classic rabbinic commentary interprets this as the preservation of human society. Which candidate will protect the environment, will put people over profit, will choose the survival of our communities over the balance sheet of the insurance, arms and oil industries? By this measure, the idea that Jews who want unconditional aid for Israel should therefore vote for a candidate who would strip away abortion rights, gut health care, and undermine the basic machinery of democracy is, to use a technical term, cuckoo banana-cakes.
And then there is the issue of antisemitism. My teacher Rabbi Mordechai Liebling explains that on the left, antisemitism is a bug and not a feature — a problem that can be and must be addressed. On the right, antisemitism is a foundational worldview. The real threat to American Jews is the far right. It’s they who promulgate conspiracy theories and it’s they who deploy ICE into our communities to kidnap our neighbors.
I personally think that Dr. El-Sayed is not antisemitic — certainly not any more than the general population. But I don’t need to convince you of that. What I hope you’ll hear is that Abdul is someone with whom we share core values — that he is someone the Jewish community can work with. What I hope you’ll hear is that a liberal-fascist coalition is out of the question, and that a liberal-left coalition is the only path forward. In November, we will elect a politician who will work with the people and not against us. Our loyalty is not to any party, but to the movement for a true democracy — and to the leaders who will work with us to advance it.
The ground doesn’t have to shift beneath us; we can be a part of moving that ground, of redrawing the politics of the possible. May Zechariah’s vision of justice, truth and peace come to pass, speedily and in our days, and may we merit to help make it so.
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On El-Sayed, Michigan’s Jewish Democrats aren’t all ready to unite behind nominee
Following Abdul El-Sayed’s narrow win of the Democratic nomination for Michigan’s open Senate seat, the state’s Jewish Democrats are reflecting on whether the divisions El-Sayed’s candidacy brought to the fore can be bridged before November.
Jewish voters make up just 1.4% of the electorate in Michigan. But the community had become deeply invested in the race, with Jews both in fierce opposition and fiery support of El-Sayed in an election that had become a proxy fight over the Gaza war and the U.S.-Israel relationship.
Jewish former Michigan congressman Andy Levin, who had endorsed El-Sayed, believes Democrats will get behind the nominee in the interest of defeating Republican Mike Rogers — a race that could determine which party controls the Senate. Pre-primary polls found Rogers leading El-Sayed by single digits.
“Shame on any Jewish Democrat if they’re going to go vote for Mike Rogers and put our democracy at risk because they can’t find their way to supporting Abdul El-Sayed, who is such a brilliant person, just because he doesn’t share their exact beliefs on Israel and Palestine,” Levin told the Forward. “That’s ridiculous.”
Levin lost his Senate seat to Rep. Haley Stevens after heavy spending against him by AIPAC, the campaign fundraising group advocating for unrestricted U.S. aid to Israel. An AIPAC-associated super PAC spent some $32 million in a failed attempt to get Stevens the Senate nomination.
Stevens endorsed El-Sayed for the general election Wednesday morning. But some Jews who voted for Stevens see no possibility for reconciliation. Rabbi Asher Lopatin of the modern Orthodox synagogue Kehillat Etz Chayim in suburban Detroit had endorsed Stevens in the primary, alarmed by El-Sayed’s association with the controversial Twitch streamer Hasan Piker and condemnation of Israel as a genocidal and apartheid state.
In a TV interview Wednesday, El-Sayed used the term “bloodthirsty” to describe Israel.
“To have so many people vote for someone who is so hurtful to the Jewish community, the things that the Jewish community values — I think it’s depressing,” Lopatin told the Forward.
Lopatin has made up his mind that he will not vote for El-Sayed in the general election, but he also isn’t yet sold on Rogers, the Republican nominee.
“I have to study him more,” Lopatin said. “But I will not vote for Abdul El-Sayed, definitely, and I would tell people they should not.”
Lopatin said he wishes Stevens would condemn El-Sayed rather than endorse him.
Still, others see El-Sayed as the best candidate to face Rogers in the general — and don’t want him to pull back on the issues that won him the nomination. Barbara Weinberg Barefield, a photographer outside Detroit who helped organize the group Jews for Abdul, said she has confidence El-Sayed will win the general — attributing the close primary race partly to the influence of outside money supporting Stevens.
“He was able to win this election in the face of close to $70 million of outside funding going to bolster his opponent,” Weinberg Barefield said. “This election is showing us, and elections around the country are showing us, that elections are not to be bought — they’re to be earned.”
Roslyn Schindler, a retired professor who taught Holocaust studies at Wayne State University, was also among El-Sayed’s Jewish supporters, even as she disagreed with him on his lack of support for a two-state solution. She stressed the importance of beating Rogers in November irrespective of disagreements on Israel.
“My motto is and will be: vote blue, no matter who,” Schindler told the Forward. “I am hoping that all Democrats realize that to do otherwise will be self-destructive and just plain wrong.”
Others are taking a wait-and-see approach. Decky Alexander, chair of the Michigan Democratic Jewish Caucus — which endorsed Stevens in the primary — isn’t issuing an endorsement in the general election yet.
She said the close margin El-Sayed won by, about 15,000 votes, gives her hope that El-Sayed will see the need to unify his party. A start, she said, would be focusing less on AIPAC during his general election campaign.
“There’s a lot of opportunity on Abdul’s side to be a better bridge maker versus kind of a bridge burner,” Alexander told the Forward. “The cards are his. It’s his responsibility to initiate.”
In his election night speech, El-Sayed didn’t mention AIPAC by name, instead speaking more generally about getting money out of politics.
On Wednesday, he addressed Jewish Michiganders directly: “I want you to know that my commitment to your safety, my commitment to Jewish safety, is the same commitment that I have to the safety of my own daughters.”
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