As the war between Russia and Ukraine erupted in late February 2022, a considerable wave of Russian Jews made aliyah to avoid instability in their home country.
The influx quickly gained traction in Russian-Israeli media, mockingly dubbed the “pumpkin” aliyah. The nickname came from a viral meme about a recent olah who complained about not finding a Starbucks or pumpkin latte in Israel – reaping a storm in response, a Russian-Jewish blog post details.
Since the beginning of 2022, some 80,000 Russians and 20,000 Ukrainians and Belarusians with Jewish ancestry have made aliyah. The substantial wave of Russian-speaking immigrants is not the first of its kind, harking back to earlier waves of aliyah. Notably, the post-Soviet aliyah of the late ’80s and early ’90s saw over 900,000 Soviet Jews arriving in Israel after 1989.
While both movements were triggered by instability and opportunity, the similarities begin to fray under closer inspection.
The Soviet olim of the 1990s were often driven by a profound sense of rupture, mirroring the imploding Eastern Bloc. Soviet Jews fled economic collapse, political uncertainty, and sought the revival of personal freedoms previously suppressed under Soviet rule.
This aliyah wave gained the nickname of “sausage,” rooted in the stereotype that many Soviet Jews moved for a material improvement to their lives.
Despite many arriving as regular economic migrants, materialism alone does not capture the motives of many olim from the former Soviet Union.
“My main motive was to leave [the Soviet Union] – money was never the problem. My father worked in a factory and earned a good income... we lived a comfortable life,” Natalia Sverdlin, who immigrated in 1988, told The Jerusalem Post.
Soviet immigrants had virtually no guarantee that living conditions would improve, considering the many challenges of moving abroad and little available information at home.
“I knew that my life in Israel would be entirely different, would be more difficult, than the life I lived with my parents in Russia.... Making that decision myself, of my own accord, made it easier,” said Sverdlin.
Aliyah was a permanent and irreversible life change, one that would compel the olim to rebuild their lives from a blank slate. Additionally, many were driven by a desire to explore their Jewishness.
“My Jewish identity played a central role in my decision,” said Sverdlin. “Nothing suited me [in the Soviet Union], but most importantly, I understood that I did not suit it.”
By contrast, the recent “pumpkin” wave is defined less by ideological return, and more by calculated pragmatism. Russian olim no longer face that momentous threshold; today they make decisions in an information-rich, highly mobile age. Present-day olim also retain both Russian and Israeli documentation, enabling flexibility of movement between their two homes. It has also become a regular occurrence for new olim to settle in Israel partially, temporarily, or to undergo aliyah for the sole purpose of receiving cash and a passport.
That is not to say ideological motives are absent, nor that recent arrivals neglect efforts to integrate.
Anna Zaslavskaya, a young Israeli olah, cites her inability to remain in Russia as a TV host after the beginning of the Russo-Ukrainian war, along with her long-standing interest in embracing her Jewish identity, as a primary motive for aliyah. She explains her early experience: “I have been a journalist since I was 19, so I had the skills to build a network of connections around me.... Two to three months after aliyah, I decided to start a blog post.... I did street-talking... I made an effort to establish my surroundings in a way where, instead of reaching out for things I needed, I would be offered them instead.”
Some newcomers adapt, other face significant hurdles
SOME NEWCOMERS adapt quickly, but others face significant hurdles. Despite the negative portrayal of Russian olim by Israeli media, the narrative is significantly more nuanced. Goups such as the One Million Lobby point to the “second-class Jew” attitude endured by Russian-speaking olim.
A joint 2022 study conducted with Bar-Ilan University on Russian-speaking olim suggested 44.8% of newcomers’ decision to stay depended on the quality of absorption, which was shown to have shortcomings. Data showed high levels of financial struggles, poor mental health, and a low rate of ulpan study participation as obstacles to integration.
Interest groups are revealing systemic integration issues that underlie challenges of new Russian olim, worsened by intra-wave tensions. These systemic challenges can be compounded by tensions with well-integrated “veteran” Russian olim, some of whom feel little connection to the new arrivals, studies have shown.
These obstacles do not define the experience of every new oleh, but they are significant enough to prompt some to return to Russia, move elsewhere, or feel alienated within Israel.
Anna stressed the importance of branching out: “I realized immediately that I couldn’t confine myself to a Russian community. I think it is a sort of dead-end approach... when [Russian] people repatriated years ago, and they don’t know the local language, the culture... they are enclosed in their own communities.”
The experience of Russian olim, past and present, has been shaped not only by geopolitics but by unresolved questions of identity and belonging.
Many from the Soviet wave consider themselves deeply integrated. “Home for me is only the country of Israel,” said Sverdlin. “I was traveling to Italy for a badminton tournament.... I thought, What would I even miss? My double bed and rented apartment? After a few days I caught myself missing [Israel], and longing to be home – home in Israel. I have retained this feeling since.”
While some more recent olim remain ambivalent, many nonetheless succeeded in establishing themselves and feeling at home, with 92% calling Israel their home despite the challenges, according to the aforementioned Bar-Ilan study.
“Israel became my home; when I miss home, I think of Israel,” said Anna.
Between “sausage” and “pumpkin,” the waves of Russian aliyah have carried different circumstances and subtexts, but are continuously united by a search for a place to belong.