For years, overseas purchases of Israeli real estate were largely associated with affluent families, second homes in Jerusalem, and investment portfolios parked in Tel Aviv towers. However, real estate agents working with diaspora buyers say something has shifted since October 7, as a growing number of Jews abroad are no longer buying property as a luxury or an investment. They are buying what they call a \u201csecurity apartment.\u201d<\/p>\n
The not-especially-technical term keeps resurfacing in conversations with buyers abroad. \u201cA lot of people are saying to us, \u2018I need a safety apartment in Israel,\u2019\u201d says Eliyahu Kleinman, co-founder of Aliyah IL, a company that markets Israeli real estate exclusively to overseas Jewish buyers. \u201cIt\u2019s not even framed first as an investment anymore. The first sentence is: \u2018I need somewhere in Israel. I need an anchor.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
The company, which until recently operated under the name Sparta and is now rebranded as Aliyah IL, works almost entirely with North American clients. Kleinman grew up in S\u00e3o Paulo after being born in Israel, speaks four languages, and spent years marketing projects to overseas residents before founding the firm with partner Avishai. For him, the change did not begin with the war. \u201cI actually trace it back to COVID,\u201d he says. \u201cWhen the skies closed, and people suddenly felt disconnected from Israel, something changed. They realized that geography still matters, and they wanted a foothold here.\u201d<\/p>\n
On October 7, he argues, the process accelerated dramatically. \u201cThe rise in antisemitism abroad switched on a red light for people,\u201d he says. \u201cThey started saying, \u2018I can\u2019t only rely on where I live today. I need a place in Israel.\u201d The image that emerges is striking not because it is entirely new, but because of who is now participating in it.<\/p>\n
Many Jews abroad who did not previously have a strong or active connection to Israel were suddenly required to take a clear position regarding Israel. Once they chose to align themselves with Israel, the emotional connection often intensified significantly, becoming more identity-driven than before. This shift strengthened their sense of belonging and, in many cases, created a renewed desire to maintain a tangible link to Israel, expressed through property ownership.<\/p>\n
Avishay Buchbut CEO ALIYAH.IL (credit: ALIYAH.IL)<\/p>\n
For decades, foreign purchases in Israel were associated with a relatively narrow demographic: Wealthier, often religious families buying in Jerusalem, Netanya, or select neighborhoods in Tel Aviv. According to field agents today, that profile is broadening. \u201cThe religious public was always active,\u201d Kleinman says. \u201cWhat changed is that now we\u2019re seeing secular families too.\u201d<\/p>\n
He pauses before adding another category. \u201cAlso, second-generation Israelis abroad. People whose parents left Israel twenty years ago.\u201d The motivations vary. Security sits alongside identity; investment alongside belonging.<\/p>\n
This evolving demand is also reflected in real activity on the ground, with transactions being completed in cities such as Jerusalem, Netanya, Haifa, Tel Aviv, Ra\u2019anana, and Modiin, reinforcing that the trend is already translating into active deal flow across major Israeli markets.<\/p>\n
Kleinman recalls conversations with clients that have little to do with yields or square meters. \u201cOne person told me, \u2018I didn\u2019t serve in the army, and I\u2019m not contributing to the security effort \u2013 buying in Israel is part of my contribution to the country.\u2019 Another theme, he says, comes from younger diaspora Jews confronting campus antisemitism. \u201cThey see what\u2019s happening at universities,\u201d he says. \u201cThey experience it directly. That brings up questions of belonging.<\/p>\n
In California, one acquaintance recently told him that his family had stopped going out at night. \u201cHe said, \u2018It doesn\u2019t feel safe anymore.\u2019\u201d The examples arrive quickly: French Jews avoiding visible symbols, mezuzahs moved inside homes after October , conversations about emigration that would once have seemed abstract becoming practical. \u201cPeople say, \u2018Maybe America isn\u2019t the promise we thought it was,\u2019\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
This feeling has translated, at least in part, into demand. The company reports rising inquiries despite a period that might otherwise have discouraged overseas buyers: Prolonged war, security instability, and an unfavorable exchange rate. \u201cClosings are harder because of the dollar,\u201d Kleinman admits. \u201cBut the number of inquiries and meetings is growing.\u201d<\/p>\n
In his telling, the paradox reflects a deeper shift in how Israel is perceived abroad. \u201cPeople see resilience,\u201d he says. \u201cDespite October 7, despite Iran and the ongoing war, they see a strong country.\u201d He goes further. \u201cDiaspora Jews sometimes see Israel differently than Israelis do,\u201d he says. \u201cThey\u2019re very patriotic, sometimes more than us.\u201d It is an observation heard frequently in conversations between Israelis and diaspora communities since the war: That distance has not necessarily diluted attachment; in some cases, it appears to have intensified it. Yet emotional motives alone do not explain the market.<\/p>\n
Alongside identity and belonging sits another distinctly Israeli factor: Opportunity. \u201cThis is a buyer\u2019s market,\u201d Kleinman says bluntly, a phrase that has been recurring in industry conversations. Developers facing slower demand have become more flexible, payment schedules have expanded, and incentives have multiplied. \u201cClients today have more power,\u201d he says. \u201cNot unrealistic power. You\u2019re not getting absurd bargains, but real negotiating power.\u201d<\/p>\n
Eliahu Kleinman CEO ALIYAH.IL (credit: ALIYAH.IL)<\/p>\n
He points to a common structure: Buyers entering deals with 15 to 20 percent equity and paying the remainder only at delivery, sometimes years later. \u201cFor people whose money is tied up in investments, it changes everything,\u201d he says. \u201cThey can enter the market without liquidating assets.\u201d The pitch rests partly on history. \u201cHistorically,\u201d he says, \u201cIsraeli real estate has tended to rise after wars and periods of uncertainty.\u201d<\/p>\n
It is a familiar argument in local property circles, though one that now intersects with a very different emotional landscape. For some buyers, the apartment is an investment. For others, insurance. Apparently, for many, it is both. One story Kleinman returns to involves a family that made aliyah with a 35-year-old son on the autism spectrum. \u201cThe apartment wasn\u2019t the whole issue,\u201d he says. \u201cTheir concern was: *Where will our son fit? How will this move work?\u201d The company helped them locate an appropriate framework in Ra\u2019anana. \u201cThat was part of the process,\u201d he says. \u201cHelping them feel they could actually move.\u201d<\/p>\n
The anecdote points to a broader transformation underway in this niche industry. Companies once focused primarily on transactions increasingly present themselves as ecosystem providers: Mortgages, legal support, property management, aliyah guidance, and integration assistance.<\/p>\n
Kleinman is careful about the distinction. \u201cWe\u2019re not an aliyah organization,\u201d he says. \u201cFirst and foremost, we\u2019re a real estate company.\u201d But, he adds, \u201cPeople aren\u2019t only buying apartments. They\u2019re buying a transition.\u201d His partner Avishai frames the current moment differently. \u201cThe dollar is low,\u201d he says. \u201cSo what? The market conditions mean people can make deals they couldn\u2019t make in the last decade.\u201d<\/p>\n
The symbolic \u201cJerusalem apartment\u201d once represented aspiration: A place to retire, visit on holidays, or pass down to children. Today, agents increasingly describe a category entirely different \u2013 a backup plan, or as buyers themselves call it: \u201cA security apartment.\u201d And in a world where certainty feels increasingly scarce the idea of a spare set of keys in Israel appears to carry a value that cannot be measured only in shekels per square meter.<\/p>\n