Latino Life in Israel

She made aliyah (immigrated to Israel—literally, “ascended”) in 1970 at the age of 20. Like all  new Jewish arrivals, she received economic incentives; hers included a full university scholarship, a heavily subsidized mortgage and reduced taxes. After getting a master’s degree in education, she worked at Hebrew University in Jerusalem counseling foreign students. At age 58 she retired.

“I was tired of working,” she says. “I wanted freedom.” And Bendersky achieved it, thanks to Israel’s retirement system. Her university had a defined benefit pension plan, and she now receives 70 percent of her former salary. Within a few years she’ll also collect the full benefits of a government social security pension.

In Israel men can retire at age 67, women at 64, and receive full benefits. Many institutions and companies still provide defined-benefit programs, where the pension is determined by length of service and salary. But, as in the United States, some employers are now using individual retirement accounts, which cost them less. Hebrew University of Jerusalem employees hired in the past decade, for example, must enroll in IRA-style plans, and the university matches their contributions. The resulting pension is considerably lower than under the old system.

Israel also offers universal health care to all its citizens. A government insurance plan reimburses patients for almost all medical costs. While working, citizens pay a tax of about 5 percent of their gross income, but after retirement their health insurance contributions drop significantly.

Bendersky says she and her domestic partner, a math professor, “are living the same lifestyle” as before her retirement.

Over the years, she has dreamed of returning to Argentina. “It’s always a fantasy you have somewhere in your mind,” she says. But she likes the way of life in Israel and says her life is better than it would be in South America.

Decisions to Make
Older, more recent immigrants from South America face difficult decisions. Kermel Schiffman says many were relatively affluent small business people in Argentina. They might not have a pension from their homeland, and in Israel they receive Israel’s minimum social security payment because they have no work history there.

Kermel Schiffman says many end up with less income in Israel. Their difficulty in learning Hebrew means it’s harder to get a driver’s license and, in any case, “most don’t have enough money to buy a car.”

That’s why the Kfar Sava Supportive Community Center’s services take on even more importance, social workers say. Volunteers visit each of the approximately 250 Spanish-speaking members of the center every week.
 
Each member’s apartment is equipped with a home alert system. “If you fall, you press a button to ask for an ambulance,” explains Shomron, the center’s director. The ambulance is free and a doctor’s home visit costs about $7. All services are available in Spanish.

Bluer, who volunteers at the program, says, “We receive good medical services and help by communicating with the doctors in Spanish. But people living in other parts of Israel don’t have those services.”

Shomron and Kermel Schiffman hope to extend their programs for Spanish speakers to other cities with significant numbers of older Latinos.

Despite the problems, Bluer says her life is in many ways better in Israel than it would be back home. But best of all, is that she gets to spend her final years with family. “My grandchildren play musical instruments and I go to see them at school,” she says. “I couldn’t do that in Argentina.”