‘It may be dangerous in Israel but it feels safer there than Britain'

Telegraph

17 hours ago

Crowds of people swarmed around information stands. Old people, young couples, toddlers and babes in arms. One person joked: 'There must be a Yiddish phrase for 'Packed like sardines.'' But most were not in the mood for humour. Some even had tears in their eyes as speakers on the stage talked of 'coming home'.
This was the scene at an aliyah fair held in north London last month, for British Jews who are contemplating moving to Israel (the Hebrew term 'aliyah' literally means 'ascending' or 'rising', but for generations it's been used to denote immigration to Israel). And while this is an annual event, organisers were surprised by just how busy the 2025 gathering was, with 1,100 participants attending, three times the numbers of the year before.
'Usually, we have a few hundred people, but this time we were surprised by how many signed in,' says Rabbi Vadim Blumin, the head of the Jewish Agency in the UK and Western Europe, which helped organise the fair. 'I was surprised by the diversity. Normally we get empty nesters, people who are retiring and want to go somewhere warm and sunny [...] But we had so many young families, students, really people of all ages.'
What would make someone leave peaceful Britain to go and live in a war zone, in one of the most disputed and fought over places in world?
It is, perhaps, a sign of just how bad things feel for some British Jews. The BBC's airing of what the Chief Rabbi Sir Ephraim Mirvis described on Monday as 'vile Jew-hatred' at Glastonbury festival, has done little to assuage their fears.
Debby Lee, 59, a television executive, was one of those who attended the aliyah event in north London last month. She was there, she explained, to 'explore my options'.
'I've never had a longing to be in Israel but there is an irony in that, the more there is criticism of Israel, the more there is anti-Semitism, which means that we feel that maybe Israel is the only place for us,' she says.
'None of that fills me with joy, but I need to look at my options because things are very bad in this country, and have been since October 7 2023.
'I realised something had changed on October 8, when I went to see my dying mother who was in a Jewish hospice, to find police outside because there had been death threats. That was the first big shock, and things have got progressively worse.'
Until October 7, Lee says she felt part of the progressive movement, standing with friends over their various causes, but has had little support in return.
'Even when my friends and colleagues do want to show support, they don't dare say anything publicly. They feel they can't, and that's where we are,' she says sadly. 'My family has been here for 200 years. I love this country and am hugely patriotic. But I am not sure this country loves me any more.'
The numbers who have actually left the UK for Israel are small but growing according to statistics from The Jewish Agency and the Israeli Ministry of Aliyah and Integration. In 2023, 404 Jewish people from the UK made aliyah to Israel. Last year, 660 went and, in the first five months of 2025, 250 have gone – a 12 per cent increase compared to the same period last year.
Another 980 households have gone through the aliyah process, which takes around four to six months, and involves proving Jewish heritage, providing documentation and an interview before being granted a visa.
Sammy Garfinkel was on a gap year in Israel before starting at a British university when October 7 happened. His parents flew him out of the country, but he insisted on going back, and has now started at university in Israel and officially made aliyah. When the 20-year-old finishes his degree, he will be conscripted into the IDF, which has lost more than 800 soldiers in this war alone.
'When the war started and I was back in London, every time I took public transport or walked on the street, I was subconsciously thinking, 'Do they know I'm Jewish, and will they hate me?'. In Israel, I can be openly Jewish and happy about it. This is the place where my ancestors prayed three times a day to return to, and they didn't get the chance to be here. So, to not be here seems crazy to me,' he says.
'I believe that the Israel-Palestine conflict is driven by pain, suffering and hate on both sides. What many outsiders don't understand is that adding more hate into the mix only deepens the divide. The events at Glastonbury are a stark example of this: chanting: 'Death to the IDF' may feel like a political statement to some, but to many Jews around the world, it sounds alarmingly close to 'Death to us'.
'The irony is, when Jews begin to feel they are no longer safe or welcome in their home countries, they will turn to Israel – the one place where they feel truly welcome. In trying to fight Zionism, these movements end up reinforcing it.'
Olly, 27, (who does not want to give his full name), is moving to Tel Aviv in August. He has rented out his London house and packed up his things. A software developer originally from Essex, he says he used to come back from holidays to Israel thinking, 'I could never live there, it was such a different way of life.' But October 7 changed things and, 'Glastonbury this weekend felt like the final nail in the coffin.'
'Yes, there is danger [in Israel] but there is danger in the UK, too. I look at what has happened in America – two people killed outside a Jewish event, someone throwing Molotov cocktails at Jews, and I see people saying it was their fault because they were pro-Israel, and that sickens me.
'I've had workplace anti-Semitism – the old-fashioned kind with people saying things like, 'Why do you work here? I thought all Jews were rich', and then the new kind where every other person has a Palestine flag on their laptop. I feel like I have a target on my back and its unnerving. Whilst the majority of Glastonbury was peaceful, the BBC displayed a hate fest to millions [...] Chants that are banned in Saudi Arabia and the UAE were projected into our living rooms, and very little has been done about it.'
Olly says he feels 'a huge sense of relief' that he's a few weeks away from leaving the UK, 'but also deeply sad it has come to this. How is it that I can be safer and more protected in some countries in the Middle East than in the UK?
'I know its not everyone. A former manager of mine messaged me to say he'd been at a Massive Attack concert and they showed footage of the Hamas terrorist Yahya Sinwar [the principal architect of the October 7 attacks, who was killed by an Israeli patrol in the Gaza Strip a year later, in October 2024] and the whole crowd was screaming, 'Free Palestine'. He's not Jewish, but was so disgusted that he and his wife walked out [of the concert]. But people like him are a rarity.'
Immigration by diaspora Jews has always been welcomed by Israel. The 1950 Law of Return means that anyone who can prove they, a parent or grandparent was Jewish, is almost always granted citizenship (although criminals and anti-Israel activists are sometimes turned away). The law was a response to Hitler's race laws, which saw anyone with a Jewish grandparent sent to concentration camps.
Immigrants to Israel, known as Olim, are given benefits such as 500 hours of lessons to learn how to speak Hebrew, as well as free healthcare for up to 12 months until they get a job, and help finding housing and work. But even aside from the ongoing war, life is not easy. Tel Aviv is one of the most expensive cities in the world, and it can be a struggle to get a job. Israel is also a country at war with itself, with huge demonstrations against Benjamin Netanyahu, the prime minister, and his coalition government.
It's no surprise that as many Israelis are moving to the UK as Britons relocating to Israel – with around 80,000 Israelis estimated to be living here.
For Rabbi Vadim Blumin, moving to Israel from a relatively safe place like the UK – where, unlike in America, France or Belgium, no one has been murdered for being Jewish – requires both a feeling of 'push and pull'.
'It is true that Jews feel less safe in many spaces, and I'm sure it's a push factor, a significant one,' he says.
'But British Jews can consider other places, so I would also say most of the people are not running away. They understand that their first years in Israel will be much less comfortable than their lives in the UK. But for many, there is a sense of calling, of identity, of belonging.
'I think also many British Jews are deeply concerned over the future of Israel – both with the war and the internal challenges as a society – and they want to be part of reimagining our future and rebuilding the country. Tied into that are questions of identity, of belonging, of looking for a meaningful life in a world that is going crazy.'
Lee Kern, 46, an Oscar-nominated comedy writer, from north London, felt both the push and the pull extremely strongly. He became a significant voice speaking out about the anti-Semitism of the Jeremy Corbyn Labour party by using his huge social media following.
Just three weeks after October 7, he travelled to Israel to document what had happened. And then something unexpected happened: he didn't want to go home.
'October 7 and the celebrations that followed it, felt like a coordinated global war against Jews,' he says.
'I'd already had six years of fighting anti-Semitism which had, I guess, entrenched, a certain element of disenfranchisement. When I got here, there was so much trauma and tragedy and pain; a genuine anxiety that Israel could be destroyed. But it also felt like a strong country, with all these interesting, dynamic people making a difference, and I ended up falling in love with the place.
'Yes, we are surrounded by fundamentalists who want to cut my head off, but this is also the most positive, optimistic place I've ever been, and that is a big part of the reason why I left Britain.'
He ended staying initially for three months, came home to the UK, and then quickly flew back to Israel having rented out his London home.
Our interview draws to premature close as a siren sounds – the latest missile coming over from the Houthis, the Yemen-based troops who have vowed to continue until the war with Hamas is over. Kern is forced to duck into a nearby building and shelter with strangers in the stairwell. Israel isn't a place for the faint-hearted.
'I don't think there is a future for Jews in Britain,' he says sadly.
'I am worried about Britain itself. It feels like political leaders and the smug cultural elite are enforcing a regime of shame and self-hatred on the British people, where you are not allowed to feel pride, or feel happy. You are not allowed to have self-belief, and I think that's a terrible thing for a nation. Even when I'm unhappy here, I am happy. I feel proud.'