Approximately 16% of the global population experiences disability (World Health Organization, 2023), while in Israel the figure is even higher, at around 20% (Justice Ministry, 2021).
Highlighting the growing relevance of disability in Israel, the state comptroller announced last week that the current war has resulted in an additional NIS 2.5 billion being paid out in disability benefits to wounded soldiers and civilians (nearly five times the total benefits paid in 2022).
Like many countries, Israel faces the ongoing challenge of making society fully accessible and inclusive – with mixed results. The experience of living with a disability varies, depending on one’s environment; and in a young nation still shaping its identity, grappling with conflict, and adapting its infrastructure, disabled Israelis face a unique reality. For those who were not born in Israel and are now adapting to its climate and language, the challenges of daily life can be even more complex.
In recognition of ongoing efforts to create a more inclusive and accommodating society – an especially relevant topic during Jewish Disabilities Awareness, Acceptance, & Inclusion Month (JDAIM) – the Magazine spoke with disabled olim (new immigrants) and service providers about their experiences and the support available to them.
Making aliyah more accessible
Over the last several years, the experience of making aliyah with an impairment or a disabled family member has drastically changed – a change attributable to the efforts of Nefesh B’Nefesh’s senior liaison and special needs guidance manager, Miriam Naiman.
After years of advocacy, Naiman participated in developing a key policy change in Israel in 2022, allowing disabled olim to be recognized by the appropriate welfare offices before beginning their new lives. By ensuring that support is in place from day one, the change spared disabled olim from navigating months of complex bureaucratic processes to access essential rights and services that are needed for successful integration.
Naiman explained that it was not uncommon for individuals with impairments and families with disabled members to choose to come to Israel. Part of this decision is based on the understanding that the support available in Israel aligns with their religious and cultural identity – something that may be unavailable or unaffordable in their country of origin.
For religious olim, residential care homes and day centers in North America may not offer a Shabbat- or kosher-friendly environment – an issue that Israeli institutions do not face. Now, with so many families making the move, Naiman said many come seeking a sense of community and understanding grounded in shared experiences.
Naiman is one of many Nefesh B’Nefesh advisers supporting families and individuals with additional needs who are considering making the move. She explained that the organization provides guidance by assessing the needs of each family member and connecting them to relevant resources to ensure that those needs are met.
When asked what advice she would give to families considering the move, she emphasized the importance of considering the needs of every family member and evaluating the level of support available in Israel compared to what they are currently receiving. A big part of her role, she said, is reassuring families that aliyah “isn’t impossible” for them but a real decision they can be empowered to make with careful thought and consideration.
Some of the key factors Naiman listed to consider include the individuals’ Hebrew-speaking ability, their overall expectations, the resources they need and have available, and the city they plan to live in.
Josh Aronson: Helping new olim from abroad
ONE OLEH who made this assessment is Maariv journalist Josh Aronson. A board member of the nonprofit organization KeepOlim, Aronson spoke about his experience making aliyah as an individual with autism – and later, yeridah (emigrating from Israel) – as well as his organization’s ongoing efforts to support olim.
Aronson made aliyah in 2005 from Manchester, UK, but left Israel in 2022. Despite his deep love for the Jewish state, a greater love influenced Aronson’s decision to make yeridah after living in Israel for over 15 years.
In 2022, he married Esther. After much deliberation, the couple decided that while Esther would have loved to make aliyah, it wasn’t the most practical choice for them. There was simply “no proper care” in Israel to meet her needs as someone with a visual impairment, he explained. The couple now live in Manchester.
“When we realized on that aspect [his wife’s disability]… she wouldn’t be able to survive in Israel… we realized the best thing is she doesn’t make aliyah,” he explained.
Despite no longer living in Israel, Aronson has continued his work in KeepOlim, acting as the main contact point for people with disabilities.
One of the biggest challenges of making aliyah, he said, is navigating Israel’s “very, very complicated” bureaucracy – a process made even more difficult by the medical paperwork required for support and the fact that many forms and communications are in Hebrew.
While KeepOlim offers a range of support services, some of Aronson’s key roles include helping disabled olim access their arnona (property tax) discounts and National Insurance Institute (bituah leumi) payments. The organization also advocates for service users, ensuring that landlords meet their legal obligations and provide accessible accommodation.
While the paperwork may be wearying, Aronson was also quick to say that the care provided in Israel is some of the “best in the world.”
“Israel pushes you until you fall; but when you fall, those same people who pushed you are the ones to pick you up,” he quipped.
When asked what should be done at the government level to ensure the successful integration of disabled olim, Aronson emphasized the need for better communication between countries. He said that those receiving disability payments in their country of origin should have a smoother transition to Israel, with their benefits recognized and continued where possible.
KeepOlim: Fighting for accessibility for olim
LIAMI LAWRENCE, founder of KeepOlim, told the Magazine that inclusivity has been a core value of the organization from the beginning, and affordable and central offices had been rejected by the organization for their inaccessibility. Aronson added that the organization had also declined offers of free event halls for the same reason, reinforcing their commitment to accessibility.
Bureaucracy aside, KeepOlim also supports the practical day-to-day needs of many immigrants.
Speaking about the Babushka & Dedushka Program, a part of the KeepOlim Feeds Olim initiative, Lawrence explained that the group delivers food to elderly, mobility-impaired Russian and Ukrainian olim living in Bat Yam. He said that some of the nine olim who benefit from the service didn’t have their refrigerators plugged in, as they had no food to store and couldn’t justify the electricity cost.
The group also offers 24/7 free mental health support through its Tikva hotline. Established to address the suicide crisis among olim – the organization reports that one-third of suicides are committed by immigrants – the hotline aims to provide immediate assistance. The group highlighted that mental health support in Israel can often take months to access, and “there is often no therapist that speaks their language or fluently enough to make therapy sessions impactful.”
Stephanie Pierce: When inaccessibility can't be overcome alone
IN ADDITION to speaking with the services and individuals supporting olim, the Magazine spoke with Stephanie Pierce, an olah who made yeridah in 2022 after living in Israel for five years.
Originally from the US, Pierce moved to Israel from Britain to pursue her master’s degree. She has bipolar disorder, a condition that can cause manic depression; and dyspraxia, a developmental coordination disorder. Both conditions, she explained, affected her experience as an olah.
From communication barriers and facing prejudice to navigating social norms, Pierce said that the impairments fundamentally impacted her experience of Israel.
“As far as being disabled in Israel, it kind of sucks, honestly, because people don’t really understand… They see [a] wheelchair, they see [an] amputee, they see physical disabilities,” she said, highlighting the struggle people with non-visible disabilities have in being recognized.
“Dyspraxia is not really in the picture. My dyspraxia is kind of unusual, I guess… It’s more [about] communication… I have really bad problems with my speech, and then [troubles with a] sense of direction, social skills, learning something new,” she said.
While learning Hebrew as a second language, she found that people often struggled to understand her speech. “The most difficult part [is] because I speak fast,” she said. “I used to speak twice as fast, plus stutter. So you can imagine that would be incredibly difficult because my Hebrew, [which] I speak equally fast, but I don’t speak it well, so the communication was always very challenging.”
The culture of workplaces in Israel was also inaccessible in many respects, she said.
“I tried to tell my employer when I was working as a writer that I had dyspraxia, that I needed a bit more patience, a bit more guidance, a little bit more structure in my everyday [life], and he just didn’t get it. He didn’t understand that a person could have a disability without it being very visible – like I come off as being quite half-functional, but maybe a bit quirky,” she said.
“They didn’t really understand. I think he felt a bit lost.”
The communication barriers also extended into her social life, making it difficult to befriend native-born Israelis. She explained that many had heard of autism or Down syndrome, but their knowledge of disabilities ended there.“[Native Israelis] thought that maybe I was a bit weird, maybe I was faking it, and that was just frustrating,” she explained.
Pierce, who has since moved to two different countries, said her experience as a disabled person in France has been completely different, as the country has more awareness and conversations about disability; while Germany felt notably worse, with a stigma surrounding the topic.
When it came to her experience with healthcare in Israel, she said that she struggled to find support. There was a shortage of psychologists near her who could understand English or her speech patterns. When she did find one, she found him to be unhelpful, saying he had a lot of preconceived notions about who she was and how her bipolar disorder impacted her.
“It’s shocking the way there are such great medical advancements in research in Israel, but then the layperson does not see any of that,” she said regretfully.
Psychiatric care in the US, she said, was better for her. “You aren’t treated like another statistic or another sick person. You are treated like a person who just happens to have a diagnosis and has some issues that need to be supported.”
Asked if she had a final message or lesson to impart, she said: “Instead of just stigmatizing us as a demographic, get to know us as individuals because we’re people.”