Opinion
The quiet destructive embargo Israel refuses to confront
Investors, academics, and corporations are pulling back, while the government insists all is well.
For many months, a silent but destructive process has been unfolding around Israel: a hidden, undeclared economic embargo affecting almost every aspect of the country’s life. This is not an official Security Council resolution or a formal international declaration, but rather a creeping phenomenon: entities, corporations, investors, and governments quietly choosing not to engage with Israel. The economic consequences of this “invisible embargo” are no less dangerous than any official diplomatic sanction.
The comparison to South Africa during the apartheid era is not unfounded. Just as the world turned its back on Pretoria in the 1980s, sector by sector, Israeli citizens today are experiencing hesitation, indirect boycotts, and growing distancing. The first to recognize the shift were financial institutions: giant pension funds freezing investments, international banks avoiding work with Israeli companies, and venture capitalists hesitating to back local high-tech. These are not public statements but quiet refusals. Multinationals are reducing activity, commercial firms are shying away from collaborations, and imported goods are increasingly delayed. The picture is becoming clear: Israel is seen as less attractive as a business destination.
The silent embargo does not spare Israel’s flagship industries. High-tech firms report canceled agreements, withdrawn investments, and a preference for non-Israeli alternatives. In academia, the boycott is even more visible, with Israeli institutions expelled from international associations and collaborations canceled. Researchers are being refused peer reviews, while publication rates abroad are declining. International exhibitions and conferences are excluding Israeli representatives outright.
Individually, these exclusions may appear minor. Collectively, they add up to serious economic damage. Tourism, once a significant source of revenue, is nearing collapse. Maritime trade routes, vital to the economy, are being obstructed, partly due to Houthi threats that have deterred Western governments and shipping companies. The result is a de facto maritime blockade, disrupting Israel’s supply chain.
The Israeli public, however, remains largely unaware. Business leaders, managers, and investors avoid speaking publicly, fearing reputational damage or that exposure will worsen the problem. This silence is itself part of the crisis: without public discussion, the embargo continues to expand below the radar.
The government has little incentive to acknowledge the reality. Instead, it prefers political spin, insisting that “together we will win” and that “the economy, with God’s help,” will prevail. But its isolationist policies only deepen Israel’s negative image abroad, accelerating the spread of the boycott to more sectors.
Meanwhile, a weary public distracted by existential threats and daily pressures often chooses escapism, reality television and short-term relief, over confronting a slow-moving economic crisis. Yet the damage will not wait. Even if peace were achieved tomorrow, repairing Israel’s image and restoring global trust would take years.
At the heart of the problem is not just economics, but the erosion of Israel’s global narrative. In international discourse, Israel is steadily losing legitimacy and failing to project a new, hopeful story. The attacks are described as anti-Semitism or denial of Israel’s right to exist, but the state’s muted response leaves the arena undefended. Without an active campaign of public diplomacy and communication, Israel risks losing the battle of perception.
Without a new narrative, positive, or at least balanced, Israel remains exposed to delegitimization. The creeping embargo is not a future risk but a present reality, silently undermining the country’s foundations. The question is not whether it will erupt, but when, and how unprepared Israel will be when it does.
