JPost sits down with...

Jerusalem Post Podcasts

The conversations that matter, unfiltered. In a world where headlines tell only half the story, "JPost sits down with..." brings you face-to-face with the voices shaping our reality. From Israeli leaders navigating existential challenges to global figures wrestling with the Middle East's complexities, we go beyond the soundbites to explore the stories behind the headlines. Each episode features candid, no-holds-barred conversations with politicians, thought leaders, activists, and newsmakers who are driving change—or standing in its way.  If you're seeking to understand the nuances of one of the world's most scrutinized regions, these intimate discussions reveal the motivations, struggles, and hopes of those at the center of it all. This isn't about easy answers or comfortable narratives. It's about real talk with real people making real decisions that affect millions. Join us as we sit down with the figures who matter most, when their stories matter most. New episodes drop when news breaks and voices need to be heard. Get more from The Jerusalem Post at JPost.com

  1. 2d ago

    Israel has 3,500 homeless people on paper. The real number is hidden

    Israel officially recognizes 3,500 "street dwellers." Ori Shoham, who has worked with them for 13 years, says the real figure is far higher, and nobody is counting. There is no legal definition of homelessness in Israel. What exists is a Ministry of Welfare category called "street dweller," and Shoham says Israel applies the harshest recognition criteria in the OECD: you have to be visibly on the street, visibly neglected, and you have to walk into a municipal welfare office and declare yourself. Those who manage it receive roughly 800 shekels a month plus about 1,100 shekels in housing aid paid directly to a landlord, money that, in Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, buys a bed in an apartment shared with nine other people. Everyone else: people sleeping in cars, on friends' sofas, in a car park, simply isn't in the data. "They don't have a house," Shoham says. "But they will not be considered street dwellers." Home Base takes the opposite approach, and it is a deliberately strange one: soccer teams, a women's choir, a theater group, Friday dinners, lockers. Israel is a member of the Homeless World Cup network of some 70 countries, and the point of the ball is not fitness: it's contact. Shoham refuses to ask people what they need on a first meeting, calling it patronizing, and waits until trust exists. He says roughly 60% of participants who stay with the program turn their lives around. The interview closes with one of them: a man who spent 20 years in and out of prison and addiction, met Home Base in a hospital bed at 50, became captain of the team, and is now married with three children.

  2. Aug 5

    Haredi, Zionist, Palestinian: three Israelis, one conversation

    A Haredi writer, a religious Zionist philosopher and a Palestinian Israeli from Nazareth sit in one room and talk about the conflict, without pretending to agree. They are part of TEMA, a cross-sector Israeli leadership network that deliberately has no solution to sell. Its method is unusual: participants first meet in homogeneous groups, Haredi with Haredi, Palestinian Israeli with Palestinian Israeli, and only later cross over. Kholoud Abu Ahmad, who grew up in Nazareth, describes how engaging with politics became an obligation rather than a choice from childhood. Prof. Benjamin Ish-Shalom draws a hard distinction between diplomatic agreements and human contact, pointing to more than fifty years of peace with Egypt that produced almost no ordinary traffic between the two societies. Tzippy Diskind describes a Haredi upbringing in which contact with non-Jews was bounded by halakhic norms, and recalls Rav Shach's position during the Oslo years that the questions could not simply be refused. What makes this conversation different from most Israeli dialogue programming is that it began roughly three years ago, before October 7, and that nobody in it is representing an official position. The participants also describe discovering something they hadn't expected: that the internal disagreements inside each of their own communities are as wide as the gaps between them. Chapters: 00:00 - What TEMA is, and why it has no solution to sell 02:30 - Growing up Palestinian in Nazareth: when politics stops being optional 08:00 - A Haredi childhood in Jerusalem during the First Intifada 13:30 - Prof. Ish-Shalom on Gesher, Beit Morasha and the limits of state-to-state peace 20:00 - Rabin's assassination and Oslo: two communities, two memories 26:00 - Inside TEMA's method: homogeneous groups first, mixed groups later

  3. Aug 5

    Why some new olim leave Israel, and what makes aliyah stick

    Most olim aren't lost on the way to Israel, they're lost the week after. Ofer Nachshon and Rabbi Sid Slivko explain why so many go home. Olim Paveway doesn't try to convince anyone to make aliyah. That's the point. Co-founder Ofer Nachshon, an Israeli entrepreneur, and Rabbi Sid Slivko, an American oleh of 30 years, sat down with the Jerusalem Post's Batsheva Shulman to talk about the part of aliyah nobody prepares for: the day after the plane lands. "Aliyah doesn't stop when you get the taxi back from Ben-Gurion," Slivko says. "Aliyah just starts when you do that." Their argument is that the return rate, still significant even as it declines, is driven less by ideology than by bank forms, bureaucracy, and a culture gap that can't be understood from abroad. The conversation gets specific about what actually helps: a personal guide who walks olim through the supermarket, the cell phone contract and the school registration; a vetted network of service providers held to fair pricing; and weekly Toolbox Talks with experts. It also gets blunt about expectations. "Israel is not an escape," Slivko warns, and there is "no carbon copy aliyah," the friend who got a driver's license in two days is not a benchmark. Nachshon adds a challenge aimed squarely at Israelis: most, he argues, don't grasp what it costs to abandon a career, a status and a community and start from zero.  What makes this interview unusual is that both men are inside the problem from opposite sides: one a native Israeli watching olim collide with his own country's systems, the other still calling himself "an oleh with 30 years of experience." Slivko closes with the advice that rescued his own aliyah three decades ago: don't try to carbon-copy your American career, turn what you love into your profession. For anyone weighing aliyah, in year one of it, or quietly wondering how much longer they can last, this is the honest version.

About

The conversations that matter, unfiltered. In a world where headlines tell only half the story, "JPost sits down with..." brings you face-to-face with the voices shaping our reality. From Israeli leaders navigating existential challenges to global figures wrestling with the Middle East's complexities, we go beyond the soundbites to explore the stories behind the headlines. Each episode features candid, no-holds-barred conversations with politicians, thought leaders, activists, and newsmakers who are driving change—or standing in its way.  If you're seeking to understand the nuances of one of the world's most scrutinized regions, these intimate discussions reveal the motivations, struggles, and hopes of those at the center of it all. This isn't about easy answers or comfortable narratives. It's about real talk with real people making real decisions that affect millions. Join us as we sit down with the figures who matter most, when their stories matter most. New episodes drop when news breaks and voices need to be heard. Get more from The Jerusalem Post at JPost.com

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