What We Need to Learn (and Steal) from Israel: A Human Blueprint
When people think of Israel, what often comes to mind are headlines filled with conflict, technology breakthroughs, and military prowess. But beneath the surface lies a society deeply embedded in compassion, community, and a unique kind of human resilience. Igor Braha’s book What We Need to Steal from Israel reveals a side of Israel rarely explored—a culture where selflessness, volunteering, and empathy are daily practices rather than rare acts of charity.
The title may sound provocative, but what Braha suggests we “steal” from Israel are not secrets or weapons—it’s values. It’s a mindset. A spiritual software that runs quietly yet powerfully underneath Israel’s visible complexity.
Take, for instance, the story of Matnat Chaim—translated as “Gift of Life.” This nonprofit has facilitated more than 1,850 kidney donations between living strangers in Israel. Yes, strangers. Ordinary people donate a part of themselves, literally, with no expectation of reward or recognition. What kind of society normalizes such radical altruism? What kind of cultural atmosphere encourages this level of brotherhood?
The answer lies in a core idea: fraternity, not as a slogan, but as a lived reality. Matnat Chaim’s founder, Rabbi Yeshayahu Heber, was himself a kidney recipient. Instead of quietly returning to his life, he created a movement—one that now binds together families, donors, and recipients into a vast, beating heart of generosity.
And it doesn’t stop there. In Israel, nearly one percent of the population volunteers with Yedidim, a unique grassroots organization that offers emergency roadside and in-home help. Whether you’re stuck in an elevator, locked out of your house, or stranded with a flat tire, someone—a complete stranger—will show up to help you. Often within minutes.
These volunteers aren’t paid. They buy their own tools, pay their own fuel costs, and sacrifice their sacred “me-time.” Why? Because embedded in Israeli culture is the belief that helping others is not optional—it’s essential.
Then there’s the phenomenon of “G.M.C.”—Gemilut Chasadim, or acts of kindness with no strings attached. Across Israel, people open their homes to lend anything from baby gear to snow clothes, umbrellas, party supplies, and even hotel apartments near hospitals—all for free. These are not charities for the poor. These services are for everyone, rich or poor. Why buy when you can borrow? Why own when you can share?
It’s not just about sharing physical things—it’s about building social trust. When a stranger lends you an umbrella or a crib, something shifts. You feel seen. Connected. Human.
And this ethos scales up even further. Two of Israel’s largest nonprofit medical organizations—Yad Sarah and Ezer Mizion—have practically replaced for-profit medical equipment businesses by offering everything from wheelchairs to oxygen tanks for free. They don’t just lend devices; they offer transportation, consultations, hospice care, and even match bone marrow donors with leukemia patients. Their quiet competition with each other isn’t driven by profits but by compassion. They strive to outdo each other in service.
Every spring, Israel celebrates “Good Deeds Day,” where a quarter of the population volunteers simultaneously. Schools, companies, Arab communities, and religious groups all come together to do everything from packing food for the hungry to painting military shelters in vibrant colors. This isn’t a token event—it’s a nationwide celebration of service.
The spirit of giving in Israel doesn’t even end with life. It often extends to death. In one moving story, an executive repeatedly disappeared from work without explanation. Later, it was revealed that he was volunteering for one of the most painful roles imaginable: delivering the news to families whose loved ones had died in military service. It’s a task no one wants. Yet, he chose to take it on.
So what fuels this kind of service? It’s not religious fanaticism or government mandates. It’s something more subtle and deeply cultural. It’s the understanding that being human means being responsible not just for yourself, but for others.
Perhaps the most poignant lesson comes from how Israel embraces those who are often left out elsewhere. From children with disabilities to soldiers with autism or cerebral palsy, Israel finds space for everyone—not as tokens, but as contributors. These individuals are not pitied. They are celebrated. Their abilities are matched to tasks, their dignity preserved.
In a world where efficiency often trumps empathy, and where personal success is prioritized over community well-being, Israel offers a startling counterexample. It's not a utopia. It has flaws, tensions, and contradictions. But it's also a living laboratory of human goodness.
So what should we steal from Israel?
Not just its tech. Not just its military strategies.
But its heart.
Its belief that brotherhood can be lived, not just preached.
Its refusal to let any citizen feel alone in crisis.
Its understanding that kindness, when made systematic, can be more powerful than any weapon.
We don’t need to be Jewish, religious, or Israeli to adopt these values. We just need to look at the stereogram long enough, as Braha puts it—until the hidden 3D image emerges.
And then we’ll see that the real power of Israel is not in its iron dome, but in its open arms.

https://www.amazon.com/What-Need-Steal-Israel-seen/dp/B0DN81B7HN