Upper Galilee leaders warn bureaucracy, neglect can determine the future of Israel’s north frontier

Almost two years of displacement have left scars not only on infrastructure but on the very social fabric of northern Israel, and the question is no longer only how to rebuild.

The drive up the green slopes of the Upper Galilee still carries a deceptive sense of tranquility. Vineyards stretch across the hills, the valley opens into a vast plain, and villages appear nestled against the border with Lebanon. Yet behind this pastoral landscape lies a reality marked by rockets, evacuations, shuttered businesses, and mounting debts.

Almost two years of displacement have left scars not only on infrastructure but on the very social fabric of northern Israel, where the question is no longer only how to rebuild, but instead whether families will truly return and choose to rebuild.

“This is an opportunity we must come out stronger from after the war,” said Asaf Levinger, head of the Upper Galilee Regional Council. “It is a national imperative to build something different here.”

Levinger, who represents dozens of communities stretching along Israel’s northern border, speaks with both urgency and defiance. He notes that around 85% of evacuated families have returned, and insists that the focus should not be on those who left.

“There are new families joining,” he said, pointing to Kibbutz Yiftach, less than a kilometer from the border, where thirteen new families have arrived. “We even have forty sons of the kibbutz talking about coming back. In Manara, we are already placing temporary mobile homes, and there are hardly any empty houses left in many of our communities.”

Resilience, though, stands alongside devastation. In Manara, nearly three-quarters of homes were damaged by Hezbollah fire. “Seventy-five percent of the houses in Manara were hit,” Levinger explained. “It will take three years to fully rebuild, some of it through evacuation and reconstruction. We have already renovated part of the houses, and people are moving in, but most of it is still ahead.” Roads and public infrastructure remain only partially repaired; a process the council chief admits is far from completion.

Funding, he stresses, is the bottleneck. Under the current model, municipalities must finance projects upfront and only later request reimbursement from the state. “Most of the money we received so far was for direct compensation to residents and some initial infrastructure repairs in evacuated communities,” he said.

“The rest has not arrived. Some of it has been approved in government decisions but not transferred, and in some cases, there is not even a government decision yet. We opened the school year, but the decision on special education programs for evacuated children hasn’t even been made.”

The result is a patchwork of unfinished reconstruction, with local councils forced to take loans and businesses left in limbo. “The biggest challenge is restarting the economy and making this region attractive again,” Levinger insisted.

“Tourism, which should be flourishing, is empty. Cafés and small businesses cannot find workers. We are missing thousands of students from the local college, which has not returned. That is 5,000 students who are not living here, not consuming, not sustaining the local economy.”

For Levinger, the crisis also exposes a long-standing neglect. “The Eastern Galilee is disconnected. We are not connected to the national railway, not connected to the national water carrier. This detachment is visible: fewer children came back here compared to the Western Galilee,” he said.

“There is enormous potential here, but without connectivity, without investment, families will not stay. We do not have full government support. It is not zero, but it is not complete. With the right backing, we can build a different reality.”

That “different reality,” in his view, would combine world-class education, agricultural research, and cultural life with a revival of tourism and hi-tech. “We want to turn the local college into a university,” he explained.

“We want to attract companies, connect hi-tech with agri-tech, and create a unique community that people will choose not only for the air and the landscapes, but for opportunities. The Galilee can be an example for Israel in food security and social resilience. But it requires decisions now.”

With no government transfers, donations or loans are the only answer

Inbar Bezek, CEO of the Upper Galilee Economic Development Company and a former member of the Israeli parliament, describes the same reality from the ground level of construction and bureaucracy. “We were promised 15 million shekels to build 55 safe rooms in kindergartens and schools. We started in January, we finished half of them, and until today we have not received even one shekel,” she said.

“Municipalities have to raise donations or go to the bank and pay interest. Strong councils can borrow, but weaker ones cannot. And then small contractors get stuck without payment. Everyone suffers because the government does not transfer the money.”

Her frustration is palpable. “They promise billions on paper, but when you look for the money on the ground, it is not there. We cannot start new neighborhoods if we don’t know when or if the state will reimburse us,” she explained. In her view, the government has “given up the periphery” and is prioritizing coalition politics over reconstruction.

“Living in the north means you earn less, you receive less, and your quality of life is lower. Yet we return because we were born here, because this is the most beautiful and green area in Israel. But for years, the state has invested only in the center. It is in Israel’s national interest to strengthen the north, yet everything pushes young families toward Tel Aviv instead.”

Bezek also points to the social dimension. With Kiryat Shmona closed for nearly two years, restaurants, shops, and cultural activities disappeared, widening the gap with central Israel. “About 50% of the restaurants we had have not reopened. Some relocated permanently. People who lived for two years in Haifa or Tiberias discovered a better quality of life. Why would they come back to closed shops and buses every two hours?” she asked.

The economic toll extends beyond services to the fields themselves. Ofer Barnea, CEO of the Upper Galilee Agriculture Company, describes a landscape of destruction and waiting. “About 3,000 dunams of orchards near the border were destroyed, mainly apple groves,” he said. “Farmers have not received compensation. Bureaucracy is slow, it takes months and years. Unlike the south, where support programs are functioning, here in the north nothing has arrived. They talk, they appoint committees, they change project managers, but on the ground, nothing reaches us.”

During the war, he explained, no foreign workers or labor contractors could enter. Harvests were lost, irrigation systems burned, and orchards uprooted. “The labor force has returned now, but the damage is long term. When an orchard burns, it takes years to replace. Egg and poultry farms were badly hit, and this affects the entire country, not just the north. Food security is a national issue,” he stressed.

Barnea, like Levinger, insists the crisis could be an opening. “If funds arrive, recovery will be quick. This is the opportunity to provide planting grants for new orchards, to finally build water reservoirs. After war and drought, we need strategic water infrastructure. The plans exist. Everything is approved. The money has not arrived. That is the opportunity.”

The sense of neglect runs deep across these conversations. Levinger does not hide his frustration. “Haifa and Yokne’am receive the same benefits as the Upper Galilee. So for a business, why would they come here, where everything is harder? Good air and flowing streams are not enough. We need to create an added value, a unique community. Otherwise, companies will always choose elsewhere,” he said.

And yet he insists on hope. “It is amazing to see the embrace from communities abroad, Jewish and non-Jewish alike, during and after the war. This warmth gives us strength,” he said. “We must emerge stronger. It is the moment to build something different.”

The words echo a choice Israel has faced many times: whether its periphery will remain a frontier of sacrifice or become a frontier of opportunity. In the Upper Galilee, leaders are warning that time is running out, and that the promises on paper must finally reach the ground.