Nearly half of the adults in France, Germany, Italy, and the UK expect to live abroad at some point in their lives, a survey by Euronews found.
Rising living costs, rather than adventure, are the main motivation. For many Europeans, comparing salaries, housing costs, taxes, and quality of life across borders has become routine.
Relocating is no longer seen as a dramatic break with the past, but as a practical strategy for building a better future.
Yet there is another migration story the survey never asked about. For many Jews across Europe, the question is not simply where life might be cheaper or more comfortable. It is whether life will remain safe.
The difference matters. A Danish physician considering a transfer to Stockholm or a German baker attracted by lower rents in Sofia is weighing income against lifestyle. Many Jewish families are weighing something else entirely.
Will my son still feel comfortable wearing a kippah on the metro? Will our children’s Jewish school still require police protection three years from now?
Is hostility toward Jews a passing wave or a permanent feature of European life? And if the time ever comes to leave, do we look for another home in Europe, or do we begin again in Israel or Canada?
These are not abstract questions. Since Hamas’s October 7 massacre, recorded antisemitic incidents have remained alarmingly high across much of Europe.
In the UK, the Community Security Trust logged 3,700 antisemitic incidents in 2025, its second-highest annual total on record.
Similar trends have been reported elsewhere in Europe. For many European Jews, migration has quietly returned to family conversations – not because most intend to leave, but because the question no longer feels unimaginable.
None of this means that Jewish life in Europe is collapsing. Jewish communities remain vibrant from London to Budapest, from Amsterdam to Rome.
Universities, cultural institutions, and businesses continue to benefit enormously from Jewish communities and their contributions. Yet confidence, once taken for granted, now requires constant reassurance. That inevitably changes how people imagine the future.
A sense of safety is shaped not only by crime statistics but also by the quiet adjustments people make without ever speaking about them.
When a university student hesitates before mentioning being Jewish during a classroom discussion, something has already changed. When a family thinks twice before placing a mezuzah on the front door of a new home, the calculation is no longer theoretical. It has become personal.
Jews keep the option of moving abroad as a form of insurance
Against that backdrop, the survey revealed a second story.
For most Europeans, moving abroad represents an opportunity. For many Jews, the option of moving abroad increasingly resembles a form of insurance – something they hope never to need but feel reassured to have.
That distinction reveals one of the quiet paradoxes of contemporary Europe. The European Union was built on the promise that national borders would gradually lose their significance.
Free movement became one of the defining achievements of European integration. For most Europeans today, crossing a border symbolizes opportunity and ambition.
Jewish history complicates that picture. For centuries, Jews crossed borders not in search of new horizons, but because circumstances left them little choice.
Migration meant survival long before it meant advancement. That historical memory has never entirely faded, and it continues to shape how many European Jews interpret today’s headlines.
Security concerns, of course, are no longer confined to Jewish communities. Russia’s war against Ukraine, geopolitical tensions, economic uncertainty, and political polarization have reminded Europeans that peace and stability cannot be taken for granted. Yet for Europe’s Jews, insecurity carries an additional historical weight.
Israel occupies a unique place in this story. It was founded in part to ensure that Jews would always have a sovereign refuge. This does not mean that every European Jew wishes to move there. Most do not. Nor does it suggest that Jewish life in Europe has become untenable.
Such a conclusion would ignore the remarkable vitality of Jewish communities across the continent. Rather, Israel functions as a permanent point of reference, shaping decisions even when no move is ever made.
Previous generations searched for any country willing to receive them. Today’s European Jews know that one country will always remain open to them.
The irony is striking. At the very moment that some European Jews quietly weigh their future with Israel in mind, many Israelis continue to pursue Portuguese, German, Romanian, or other EU citizenship through family ancestry.
Despite growing political tensions between Jerusalem and several European capitals, Europe remains a magnet for Israelis seeking education, careers, cultural life, and sporting opportunities.
The destinations may sometimes overlap. The motivations rarely do.
This distinction deserves greater attention from European policymakers. Governments have invested significant resources in combating antisemitism through legislation, policing, and education.
These efforts matter, but they cannot fully address the psychological dimension of belonging. Communities judge their future not only by arrest statistics or government statements but also by the tone of public discourse, the willingness of neighbors to speak out when hatred appears, and whether Jews feel able to express their identity openly in universities, workplaces, and public spaces.
Belonging cannot be legislated. It must be lived.
The survey captures an important aspect of contemporary Europe. Citizens increasingly treat borders as practical choices rather than fixed destinies. That flexibility remains one of the EU’s greatest achievements.
But that freedom does not mean the same thing to everyone. For most Europeans, leaving is about opportunity. For many Jews, it is also about protection.
The ultimate measure of Europe’s success will not be the freedom of its citizens to leave. It will be whether Europe’s Jews continue to believe they have no reason to leave.
The writer is a senior fellow at the Jewish People Policy Institute (JPPI) and a professor of European studies and international relations in the Department of Politics and Government at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev.