The Blogs: Is Israel Going To Be Fine? Response to Dan Senor’s State of World Jewry Address

Dan Senor believes “Israel is going to be fine.” I wish I could share his confidence.

While Senor’s recent “State of World Jewry Address” at the 92nd Street Y offered a compelling case for Israel’s geopolitical strength—calling it “more prominent and stronger than ever”—the reality I’ve witnessed over nine months of traveling among fellow Israelis abroad tells a different story. As someone who left Israel in 2024 and has spent countless hours in conversation with displaced Israelis from Thailand’s jungles to Nepal’s mountains, I want to offer a more personal—and potentially more sobering—reflection on how “fine” things really are.

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

One way to gauge a more objective vote of confidence in Israel’s future is by looking at recent immigration data. How are Jews and Israelis voting with their feet?

While stable migration trends will take a few more years to be established, the early data is not looking good. In 2024, a record number of 82,000 Israelis left the country, which marks a notable rise from previous years. By contrast, aliyah to Israel has declined in the post 10/7 period when compared to previous years.

Journeying on the “Humus Path” (India, Nepal, Thailand) for the last 9 months, I can attest to some of the stories behind these numbers. Many close friends and hundreds of Israelis I have met abroad, including myself, are living in a post-10/7 state of limbo, shock, grief and uncertainty, with no definite plans to return to Israel.

Whether it is the reservist father I sat next to in a island spa in Koh Phangan who is trying to put his life back on track after serving over 100 days in Gaza, or the young Israeli woman in Nepal receiving her parent’s blessing to apply to universities in Europe versus at home, it is obvious that a growing number of Israelis have chosen to live abroad on an indefinite basis. I am confident that if more Israelis had the financial means and more flexible personal circumstances, there would be an even larger rush to the exit terminal of Ben Gurion Airport.

Brothers No More?

If Israel once prided itself on its national unity in the face of adversity – which certainly was evident in a huge rush of solidarity seen in first few months after the war – that myth is now cracking.

I remember covering the judicial overhaul protests in 2023, describing a growing divide within Israeli society that felt historic. It is nothing compared to what I am hearing and witnessing now.

According to a March 2025 survey by Reichman University, only 17% of Israelis expressed trust in the government, and a mere 11% trusted the Knesset, Israel’s parliament. These figures represent some of the lowest trust levels recorded in recent years.

Such a growing sense of mistrust reflects my conversations with Israelis over bowls of hummus in India and Thailand and at Friday-night dinners at Chabad houses across the region. I am no longer shocked when I hear even conspiracy-tainted arguments that the government was willfully blind to preventing the 10/7 attacks for its own self-serving interests.

The Psychological Toll of October 7

Another red-light indicating great danger for Israel’s future is an ongoing mental health crisis that is not being discussed enough.

Since the October 7 attacks, Israel has experienced a significant mental health crisis. A State Comptroller report from April 2024 indicates that approximately 580,000 Israelis are suffering from at least one severe symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), with 38% of the population reporting moderate to severe symptoms. Despite this, only about 0.6% have received mental health treatment through official channels.

A separate study estimates that around 520,000 Israelis, or 5.3% of the population, are at risk of developing PTSD due to the October 7 attacks and the ensuing war. The Defense Ministry’s Rehabilitation Department has treated approximately 16,000 soldiers since the conflict began, with about half diagnosed with PTSD. These figures highlight the profound psychological impact of the conflict on Israeli society.

I experienced this first-hand in my reporting on David’s Circle, a unique therapeutic refuge nestled in the lush Thai jungle of Koh Phangan. This healing sanctuary has hosted over 900 Israeli visitors since opening in September 2024—young Supernova festival survivors, discharged soldiers, and others seeking respite from a homeland where “everything was triggering, sirens all the time, the trauma doesn’t end,” as founder Yael Shoshani-Rom explained to me.

But the truth is, those I met who have received sufficient treatment for their trauma are likely a minority of those affected. Rather, what we’re witnessing is a generation of Israelis—disproportionately those who are younger—learning to live with unprocessed trauma while surrounded by constant reminders of an ongoing war.

This psychological toll represents an existential threat to Israel’s future that goes beyond military calculations or geopolitical positioning. How can a society sustain itself – never-mind rebuild an even more robust democracy that regains its citizens’ faith – when hundreds of thousands of its citizens are grappling with untreated trauma, when its young people are choosing exile over return, and when the very act of remaining in the country becomes a source of re-traumatization?

The Courage to Face Hard Truths

Dan Senor’s optimism about Israel’s strength and prominence may reflect important geopolitical realities—Israel’s military capabilities, its regional alliances, its technological prowess. But a nation’s true resilience lies not just in its ability to project power, but in its capacity to hold onto its people, maintain social cohesion, and offer its citizens a future worth building. From what I’ve encountered, Israel faces enormous challenges that cannot be solved through military victories or diplomatic breakthroughs alone. When record numbers of Israelis are leaving, when trust in government has collapsed, when hundreds of thousands suffer from untreated symptoms of trauma, these aren’t merely growing pains of a nation at war. They are warning signs of a deeper crisis.

This isn’t to say that Israel won’t survive or that its future is doomed. The young Israelis I’ve met across Southeast Asia aren’t fleeing Israel because they don’t love their home country; they’re fleeing because love alone isn’t enough when home feels unlivable.

Israel may indeed emerge from this period stronger than before. But that strength will be measured not only on the battlefield and diplomatic arena, but in whether it can again become a place where its own people choose to build their futures. Until then, declaring that “Israel is going to be fine” may be premature—a hope rather than a reality, a wish rather than a promise we can confidently make.