The story of Kibbutz Nir Oz encapsulates many of these tensions. The small community was the worst hit on Oct. 7 — the army never responded and one-third of its residents were either killed or kidnapped — and 60% of the survivors say they won’t return to live along the border.
“I dream of Nir Oz,” said Mor Tzafarti, who is worried about the safety of her three sons, 8, 11 and 12. “I want to go back there, but I can’t.”
Tzafarti and some 50 other families want to move to a new kibbutz, but the Israeli government will only pay to rebuild their homes in Nir Oz. If they leave, they’re on their own.
The families have looked to the U.S. for a solution. Surely, they thought, helping traumatized Israelis build a new life together would qualify for a slice of the more than $300 million earmarked for Israel that remains in the accounts of Jewish federations and private foundations.
So far, though, they’ve hit a wall.
I spent two weeks in Israel to report on this messy new phase of recovery, where — through their action or inaction — American donors are funding different visions of Israel’s future following the deadliest terrorist attack in its history.
