The "Yordim"
Israelis Who Leave
The Yordim (descenders) are Israeli citizens of the Jewish faith who have left Israel and immigrated to another country.
They are called this in Israeli Hebrew because Israel is, by definition, the state of the Jewish people, and Jews make "Aliyah" (ascend) to it in order to live there. Therefore, one who leaves it—descends from it.
That's the Israeli narrative.
Because of this, Jews who have left their homeland and come to live in Israel, the Olim, are received with a hug and support. There is even a government ministry dedicated specifically to them, the Ministry of Aliyah and Integration, which takes care of them from the moment they step off the plane at Ben Gurion Airport.
In contrast, the Yordim leave quietly, without support or guidance. They take care of themselves and their families. Among them are those who do "relocation" under the auspices of their Israeli workplace, and the temporary move lengthens and becomes permanent.
In spoken Hebrew, "to descend from the country" is not a private matter but a national one. And like many national matters, the phrase and what it represents have undergone historical changes over the 75 years of the state's existence.
In the distant past, the Yored would leave Israel and go abroad only for work purposes, and he was supposed to return to it any day now.
When he didn't return within a reasonable time, he and his wife felt the need to apologize: "It's all temporary," they said. "We simply don't want to take the child out in the middle of high school, but as soon as the child turns eighteen—they will all return, the whole family, so he can enlist..." They even had an apartment here that they rented out, to prove their serious intentions. And on every visit back home, they would pop in to see if the tenants were taking care of it in anticipation of the owners' return.
When they were delayed in coming back, Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin coined a nickname for them: "Nefolet shel Nemushot" (scum of the weaklings).
Meanwhile, the status of the Yordim has changed in the collective consciousness of Israeli Jewish society.
Their absence is felt, and they are still a public issue that affects the national resilience of the great "Israeli family." They are not applauded, but their departure is mourned, and their return is hoped for.
Sometimes there are famous Yordim who have gained worldwide fame and actually become a source of pride. Their sin of leaving is forgotten. One of them, Liron Petrushka, founded a company in the United States in the late 20th century that had the fastest exit in history, up to that time.
The Yordim themselves no longer get flustered about it.
A Yored leaves the country without lowering his head. He goes to try his luck in another country.
Why? Just because.
Because things are bad for them here. Because they can get by better there. Because there they can do business and here everything is bureaucracy. Because they got a good job. Because their doctorate is worth more at an American university. Because they were sent at the command of their rabbi. Because they're fed up with reserve duty and terror attacks and they're afraid for their children's safety. And... just because they feel like it, and they don't owe anyone an account. Besides, they gave the state full military service, and they were in a combat unit, so don't preach morality to them, okay?!
The phenomenon of leaving crosses sectors and communities, and there is no Jewish family that is immune to it.
Including rooted families in the country. Including sons and daughters of famous public figures, including senior officers after their retirement from the IDF, rabbis, and former members of religious Zionist or ultra-Orthodox communities. Including also families who immigrated to Israel and decided to leave it.
Every Israeli knows one or two Yordim—his friends, his children, his relatives, parents, or just neighbors from the building who packed suitcases and left. Alone or with the whole family.
An Israeli woman who left is photographed with a sign in Hebrew: "We left for Berlin." That simple. Without shame and without apology.
The Yordim are found in every corner of the world—from Tokyo to Louisiana and from Moscow to Buenos Aires.
There is almost no major city in the Western world that does not have Israelis who chose to immigrate there—alone or with their families.
Their exact number is unknown, and since the establishment of the state, it is likely more than a million Israeli Jews who have emigrated to other countries. Many of them have found an "Israeli community" there, all of whose members are their countrymen, who did the exact same thing, settled down, and even love the homeland, but from a distance.
As the state marks 75 years, the Yordim are part of the Israeli identity.
Most of them continue to hold an Israeli Passport and identity card. They make frequent visits home for various reasons:
so they can vote in elections, to receive national insurance benefits, to enjoy medical treatment, to participate in a family holiday, or just to breathe a familiar scent and hear voices from the past. There are many among them who would not hesitate to come and help, if needed, for example: in times of war—if they receive an emergency call-up notice and even if not.
Lovers of the homeland from afar, all are Hebrew speakers, and their children also know something about the language and the distant country where their mother and father were born. They hope that the children will find a Jewish partner, to preserve the integrity of the extended family, and not to sadden grandpa and grandma in Israel, who are already sad because of the physical distance that has opened up between them.
The Israeli communities around the world have expanded greatly.
The atmosphere there is Israeli in a local style. Every such large community manages information and communication channels in Hebrew, for community members, but also for Israeli eyes. Including explicit offers of assistance to anyone who wants to join them.
In the 21st century, the Israeli discourse on emigration to another country has left the framework of the forbidden "taboo" and has become legitimate.
A foreign passport, in addition to the Israeli passport, has become a very sought-after commodity, and a thriving economic sector has grown around it, involving lawyers, salespeople, advertisements, and Israelis who want to hold one. Ostensibly "just to have another passport... who knows what can happen here," but in reality, they—or their children—use it.
And still, even after the topic came out into the open and gained legitimacy, the emigrants who leave here remain "Yordim" (descenders)—until someone finds them another word in Hebrew.
Knowledge bites about the Yordim:
-
An Israeli dream: A visa to the United States.
The magic of the land of unlimited opportunities has not faded yet, and if you add to that the fact that the number of Jews there is almost equal to the number of Jews in Israel, then whoever managed to get such a visa, it's as if they won the lottery. -
Popular immigration destinations for Yordim: North America, Berlin.
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A threat: "We are considering leaving the country."
A common type of warning heard for many years: "If our demands are not met...we will leave the country." In the 21st century, this threat has lost its value. And often the response is: "You can leave. That's fine." -
Bargain furniture: "Due to leaving the country".
In periods when the phenomenon of leaving intensifies, you can find classified ads in newspapers or on social media for the sale of a home's contents with the public explanation for the sale. This is meant to prove that the contents are valuable, but the sellers have no choice because they are leaving. -
Found a reason to leave: "Fled abroad and left debts behind."
A newspaper headline, one of many stories published throughout the state's existence, about those who got into debt and were forced to flee. -
Yordim who can be forgiven:
Arnon Milchan,
Gal Gadot,
Natalie Portman. -
Yordim whom many in Israel do not forgive:
Dr. Ilan Pappé, an academic who often voices criticism against the Israeli government's policies abroad.
Mordechai Vanunu, who worked at the Dimona nuclear reactor, emigrated abroad and published classified information about Israel's nuclear secrets.
Historical bits:
The Yordim have always been an open wound in the Zionist movement, among its fulfillers and path-makers.
It was a kind of disappointment mixed with anger: why leave? After all, the establishment of Jewish life in the Land of Israel is a Jewish aspiration. For two thousand years, Jews have turned their eyes towards Zion and Jerusalem. And now...an act has been done, there is a map of communities in the Promised Land, but it is filling with holes. There are those who abandon it and present the dream and its brokenness. Why? Why does it deserve this?
The phenomenon of leaving was already common here, even at the beginning of the 20th century. Against every large wave of Aliyah (ascend), there was a small wave of Yerida (descent). But then, it wasn't made a big deal. Everything stayed within the family. Dirty laundry wasn't aired in public.
After the establishment of the state in 1948, Israeli patriotism surged, and the process of "Kibbutz Galuyot" (Ingathering of Exiles) began. The state's gates were opened for the greatest family reunion in the history of the Jewish people. The state's leaders called on all the Jews of the world "to ascend to the Land of Israel," promised them automatic citizenship, and sent emissaries to gather Jews from every Jewish community around the globe.
The process was not easy, and difficulties mounted on the paths of Aliyah and absorption, but hundreds of thousands of immigrants who came from all over the world lovingly bore the hardships of absorption. "The main thing is that we have a state," they said. For those who did not manage to be absorbed, it was understandable, and they were allowed to return to the country from which they came. In contrast, those who were already here before the establishment of the state and decided to leave aroused bewilderment mixed with anger: "Now of all times, when the Zionist vision is being realized?" they were asked, and this provoked a sense of guilt in them. Since then and for about three decades, it was truly unpleasant to "descend."
In the 1970s, the number of Yordim increased.
This happened after the trauma of the Yom Kippur War, which was the third in a series of wars, and the most traumatic of them all. Terrorist attacks and a precarious security situation took their toll on the nerves of many Israelis, and they left. Among them were also "the best of our sons"—graduates of youth movements, veterans of combat units, kibbutz members and moshav members. Among them were even those who were sent by the state to be its representatives in official frameworks, such as: embassy workers, emissaries of the Jewish Agency and the Jewish National Fund, security personnel, representatives of commercial companies, and more. These were sent for a limited period, and when the period ended, they decided that they could get by better there, in the country to which they were sent, than in the country that sent them.
The phenomenon intensified until, in the 1990s, Yitzhak Rabin said the famous phrase about them: "They are Nefolet shel Nemushot." (scum of the weaklings).
Rabin was forced to apologize and retract the statement, because at the time he said it, there were already Israeli communities all over the world, and some of them were among the biggest contributors to the state. In addition, there were family members here who felt personally hurt by the finger pointed at their loved ones, and by the negative label that was attached to them, even though they had simply done what was best for them.
Rabin's statement, which resonated throughout the Jewish world, actually brought about a change in trend—the public discourse that took place in the pages of newspapers and on radio and television channels presented arguments for and against, and in fact, already then, Israelis began to understand the Yordim's reasons. The Yordim themselves stopped being ashamed and established themselves in Jewish communities around the world, and in some places, they constitute the majority of the local community.
From the 2000s onwards, the attitude toward them changed completely.
The criticism shifted to the Israeli establishment—it is to blame because it doesn't do everything to keep them here. It's true that the Yordim still did a "deed that shouldn't be done," but it's possible to understand them. To hug them, and even to offer them tempting offers so they will return.
The media discourse, which moved between condemnation and understanding, brought up the concept of "Brain Drain"—which refers to professionals in demand, such as: doctors, scientists, engineers, high-tech workers—who leave the country for countries where they find a more convenient work arrangement than in Israel.
The Israeli establishment internalized this, and official channels were opened between the Yordim and the state.
Here and there, you can even see people who are envious of the Yordim and dream themselves of a planned relocation. There is a common phenomenon of getting a foreign passport, "just in case," and when the security situation worsens—the demand for them increases.
In Israeli discourse, the Yordim have become so normalized that there are those who threaten to leave the country "if their demands are not met."
A poster from the Jewish Agency's
campaign to create contact with Israelis abroad
This is part of "The Israeli Story 1948-2025" project
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