Israel’s approaching parliamentary election on 27 October has intensified an increasingly personal debate among liberal Israelis about whether the country remains a place where they can live, work and raise their children. For artists, technology professionals and families opposed to the government’s political direction, the vote represents more than a contest for power: it has become a test of their willingness to remain in a society shaped by war, religious nationalism and deepening divisions. In a report published by Die Zeit, journalist Marlene Knobloch documents the anxieties of Israelis who fear that the country they consider home is becoming increasingly difficult to reconcile with their political and personal convictions.
Tamar, a creative director at a high-tech company in Tel Aviv, told Knobloch that she was considering leaving Israel. She compared the country to a ship heading towards an iceberg, with its passengers forced to choose between remaining on deck and jumping into freezing water. The election, she believes, could determine whether the country changes direction or continues along its current course. The possibility of Benjamin Netanyahu retaining power has prompted concerns among some Israelis that large numbers of younger professionals, academics and parents could leave.
Former prime minister Ehud Olmert told the New Yorker that a Netanyahu victory could prompt hundreds of thousands of Israelis aged between 25 and 40, particularly people working in high technology and academics with children, to leave the country quickly. Knobloch reports that the departure of skilled professionals has already reached record levels over the past two years, with doctors, technology workers and academics among those moving abroad. More Israelis are also placing their money outside the country, reflecting uncertainty about their economic and political future.
The concerns extend beyond the election itself. Israel’s educational performance has deteriorated, with pupils recording their worst results in the Programme for International Student Assessment, or PISA, in the previous year. For the liberal and progressive Israelis interviewed by Knobloch, the question is increasingly whether their children will grow up in a country whose political values they can accept.
The uncertainty is particularly acute among cultural workers whose livelihoods depend on public institutions and international collaboration. Tom Shoval, an Israeli film director, told Knobloch that he felt rejected abroad because he was Israeli and marginalised at home because of his liberal views. He is writing a film about the 7 October attacks, involving a young filmmaker and a Palestinian man who entered Israel illegally and works as a food delivery driver. However, he is uncertain whether the project will be made, given his concerns about the politicisation of Israeli cultural funding.
Without public film funding, he said, making films in Israel was difficult. Even if the production went ahead, he worried that it might struggle to find an audience. Nevertheless, Shoval rejected the idea that leaving the country would be an uncomplicated solution. “But filmmaking is connected to my identity. If I separate myself from my identity as an Israeli, my work would feel dishonest,” he said. “This, exactly this role, is my destiny.”
Shoval previously screened his film “Letter to David” at the Berlin International Film Festival. It concerns the Cunio twin brothers, one of whom, David, was held hostage in Gaza for 738 days. Shoval had expected the film’s success at the festival to lead to invitations from other international events, but that did not happen. He told Knobloch that the suffering experienced by Israelis following 7 October remained deeply embedded in families even after the hostages were released.
The attacks have also complicated his commitment to coexistence. Shoval described the difficulty of resisting anger towards Palestinians after the atrocities committed during the attacks, while continuing to pursue work that engages with Palestinian characters and Israeli society. He said David Cunio’s daughter had struggled to accept him, interpreting his captivity as abandonment.
For other progressive Israelis, the political consequences of the election are inseparable from concerns about the occupation and the future of their children. Some resent paying taxes that support settlements in the occupied West Bank while the government pursues what Netanyahu has described as “total victory”, a goal that Shoval said few people around him genuinely believed in. Knobloch also describes Israelis who fear violence from settlers, including people seeking to protect Palestinians during the olive harvest through their presence.
Street artist Morgane Koresh has experienced the conflict between her political beliefs and the society in which her son is growing up. She told Knobloch that her son had covered his ears when Arabic was announced at a Jerusalem tram stop, saying he did not want to hear the language of his enemies. On another occasion, he returned from school saying that he wanted to become a soldier and die for his country.
Koresh, who grew up in Paris having to conceal her Jewish identity, founded the feminist and queer street-art collective HaStickeriot in Israel. Following the 7 October attacks, she said, former allies in feminist and queer communities excluded her. Her experience has left her questioning both the future of her work and the environment her son will inherit.
Other artists have responded to the war by documenting the suffering of hostages and civilians. Zeev Engelmayer, known for the pink-costumed character Shoshke that became a symbol of protests against judicial reform before 7 October, began drawing portraits of Israeli hostages after the attacks. He has faced accusations of antisemitism from right-wing Israelis, arrest and the cancellation of exhibitions abroad. International collaborations involving the Bezalel Academy in Jerusalem, where he teaches, have also been discontinued.
Engelmayer has continued producing portraits of hostages and their families, as well as images of Palestinian victims. He told Knobloch that activism required optimism and that he hoped intensely for change.
Yet leaving remains an uncertain prospect for those contemplating it. Tamar described a constant awareness among friends of who might stay and who might depart. Another woman told Knobloch that she and her husband had discussed moving to Panama, where they believed antisemitism was less prevalent. Holding her three-day-old daughter, she wondered aloud what they would actually do there.
