In Jerusalem, a real estate transaction is rarely just a transaction. It is also a statement about belonging.
Jerusalem has always been a city that prefers its arguments with a street address. Theology becomes stone. Politics becomes a neighborhood. Identity becomes a zoning fight. This week, anxiety became Israeli real estate. Channel 12 News reported that a US-based Jewish community had bought two residential towers in central Jerusalem, roughly 200 families in a single concentrated purchase, in a deal believed to exceed NIS 1 billion. The detail that stayed with me was not the price tag; Jerusalem has seen plenty of those. It was the structure. A coordinated act, collective and deliberate, like a community deciding it no longer wants to keep its future in the cloud.
In this city, a real estate transaction is rarely just a transaction. It is also a statement about belonging. For years, Jerusalem has fought over “ghost apartments,” units purchased by overseas residents and left dark most of the year. The critique is understandable. Locals struggle with prices, and empty windows feel like an insult. Policymakers have tried tools such as double arnona (municipal property tax) to discourage long-term vacancies. At the same time, researchers have noted how challenging it is even to define, let alone measure, what “empty” means.
Still, the argument often skips a quieter truth. Some of those dark apartments are not only a status symbol. They are an insurance policy, a contingency plan with keys attached. That mindset used to live mostly in conversation. After October 7, it became something more practical. After the Sydney attack, it moved again, into something closer to a strategy. (Ed note: A somewhat long, but very interesting take on the first article above on "make aliyah (immigration to Israel).") (Read More)
