Israelis are asked: What did you give to your country?

Maariv 10/10

Written and translated by Oren Yaniv

In Israel, more than three-quarters of the adult population regularly donates money to various charities, according to polls, keeping a Jewish tradition of alms-giving. The annual contribution of the average household is estimated at $260.

Fundraisers in the United States, who raise monies for Israeli causes—from art schools to the Jewish Agency—insist that there are Israelis who give generously to Israel and that this segment of the population is a new and promising target.

But in America, whose affluent Jews (and Christians) open their wallets regularly to assist Israel, the reluctance of Israelis to dole out for Israeli causes is glaring. “It doesn’t make sense,” said Isaac Sheffer, a journalist and philanthropist from Los Angeles

Yair Tal, director of Friends of Israel Scouts, said that for Americans the question is to whom should they donate. But, “this is not the story with the Israeli. The Israeli confronts the question ‘Do I want to donate?’”

The Tzofim (Scouts), the biggest youth movement in Israel, runs few projects in America and raises funds (about $350,000 a year), mainly through direct mail to people who expressed interest in the past. About a quarter of the 7000 envelopes are sent to Israelis, and while more than half of the American Jews send money back, very few Israelis do the same. “It’s just different,” Tal said. Apart from the distinct mentalities, “many Israelis are here temporarily and their economic situation is not necessarily as good as the Americans and the tax considerations don’t play out with them.”

Shimon Aram, head of the Israeli Organizations in L.A., who’s active in philanthropy, said, “if you take the number of Israeli benefactors to the Jewish Federation, for instance, you’d see that maybe 2 percent give something, even $10, to the Jewish Federation. This is a very low percentage and the same holds true for other organizations.”

Tal said that, “it’s a little frustrating when you get less from Israelis, but when you think about it, I think it’s understandable.” There are diverse reasons for the dichotomy, first among them are the mental distinction between Israelis and Americans (people in Israel often contribute their blood, sweat and tears, rather than cash), the distance of many who live here. “I look at myself before I look at others,” Tal said. “I don’t see myself sitting at the end of November, thinking to which organization am I going to donate, and I think it’s a part of my education. We were not taught to give out checks, which, by the way, I don’t think shows superior moral standards among Americans.”

Despite this perhaps gloomy picture, the Israeli community has lately become the focus of many pro-Israeli organizations, in what some interviewees called “a revolution.” At this time of year, which traditionally marks the beginning of charity season (which peaks at the end of the tax year), one can sense a guarded optimism. The UJA Federation is the leading body of fundraising for Israel, finishing last year with about $200 million in funds. Sinaia Levi, director of resources development in New York, works exclusively with Israelis who live in the U.S. and she reports on positive responses. “Everyone I talk with is very excited to hear about our initiative, about what we’re doing,” she says.

Ronnie Krinsky, who leads a number of projects for the Federation in the Tri-State area, calls the notion that Israelis abstain from giving “a misconception.” “We have Israelis from all industries: Wall Street, hi-tech, lawyers, doctors,” she says. “It’s a nice representation of diverse industries, and people are happy to hear that there’s something like that.” She adds that most of the contacts are made informally. “It’s too early to estimate numbers.”

The audience, in any rate, exists. The 2000 Census reveals that in New York City there are some 20,000 Israelis with a legal status, the most coveted group. The numbers of people who are here on different visas are unknown, but surely are more than double that. Similar figures are found on the west coast, with the majority concentrated in L.A. and the Bay area.

The Israel Bond Organization, which raises foreign currency for the country by selling state bonds (more than $1.25 billion, with a ‘B’ rating this year) plans to tap into the new Silicon Valley-enriched Israelis. “Eventually we’re going to find the key. We have a few names and addresses,” said Joshua Matza, Bonds president. “There’s potential in that.”

“The Bonds is not about charity, it’s an investment,” he emphasizes. But the techniques, of large fundraising events, are similar to those used for philanthropy. “You have to come and pull their strings, their emotions,” Matza explains, referring to American Jews who attend galas that include appearances by Israeli ministers and where million-dollar-checks are the norm. “When you remind a Jew that his money helps to develop the country, helps to strengthen it...it does the trick.”

American Jews are avid supporters of the Jewish state, and the sum of donations arriving from here to Israel was $2.6 billion in 2000, according to the central bank (more than half the total allocation from private resources). The support also translates to assistance to pro-Israeli lobbies, especially AIPAC, which enjoys wide grassroot support. Sheffer is one of AIPAC’s profuse benefactors. Among Israelis, “You see a growing community,” he says. “I realize that today there are more and more rich [Israeli] guys who give to Israel. You didn’t hear of something like that in the past.” Krinsky, who has been working five years for the Federation, adds: “I feel that Israelis have really matured and are ready to give.”

There are many explanations for Israelis’ reluctant giving. Aram thinks that in their home-country there was a tradition of taxes, not charity. “I also think that many Israelis who came abroad try to avoid any responsibility,” he says. Sheffer’s opinion is that, “Israelis don’t feel like they’re in exile. They are much busier securing themselves financially in the early years. They were educated to fight for their country, not to give it money. Also, they feel that they’ve been in the army and so forth, that they already did their part.”

Tal said that he contributed to two organizations this year after refraining from doing that before, calling it “a part of an educational process.” Others alluded to the economic difficulties in Israel and to the fact that fewer women have time to volunteer, compared to American women.

“Israelis here naturally don’t like to make a connection to their country through American organizations,” said Raphael Rothstein, a spokesman for the Bonds. “It’s not for them, it doesn’t look natural.” In addition, many of the newly-enriched dot-comers, with their entrepreneurial dispositions, prefer to create their own funds rather than to donate to traditional organizations.

The number and diversity of reasons reflect the depth of the trend, as well as the mentality gap at its foundation. Aram said, “I’m sad, because when I come to the Christian population, without any exception, I get a positive response,” but not among Israelis.

Despite all that, the pro-Israel fundraising industry marked the Israeli community as its target, hoping to make the population as generous as it is back home. Levi, the Federation activist who works with them, says that “overall, the idea to connect the Israeli community to giving to charity, to connect them as a community, is very interesting for them, very appealing for them.”