Is The Flood of Soviet Jews Drying Up?

By NANCY GIBBS

Anatoli Nemov speaks with all the soul of a Russian artist when he talks about emigrating to Israel. "I will always feel drawn there," says the 37- year-old Moscow actor, "but I couldn't climb with all my soul into that life. My language is Russian. My culture is Russian. I am a person of art. I cannot create art in such conditions. Our creativity doesn't exist there."

So, unlike his relatives and friends, Nemov will remain behind. He is one of a growing number of Jews who are choosing not to join the 310,000 of their brethren who have moved to Israel since Mikhail Gorbachev relaxed the restrictions on emigration in 1989. They know that at home the winter promises only hardship and that the rise of nationalist groups could revive harsh anti- Semitism. But they also see around them the signs of renewal for Soviet Jewry -- the gradual reopening of Jewish schools and cultural centers, the increasing attendance at synagogues -- and a new push for democracy in the aftermath of last month's failed coup. "I am a member of the Russian intelligentsia," says Nemov, "and my place is here."

Tens of thousands of Soviet Jews have canceled or postponed their departure. Of the 300,000 expected to emigrate this year, only 112,000 have already done so. One reason is Saddam Hussein's missile war against Israel during the Persian Gulf conflict. But beyond that, these Soviet Jews heard from friends and relatives in Israel of the desperate housing and job shortages, the families doubled up in hotel rooms and mobile-home camps. Soviet engineers, doctors and musicians find themselves working as janitors, construction workers and gas-station attendants in Israel; roughly 40% are unemployed, compared with 11% of the country's total work force.

Israeli officials insist that the slowdown is temporary and that they still expect an additional 1 million Soviet Jews to resettle in Israel between now and 1996. For a country of 4.8 million to plan to absorb such numbers represents a massive commitment to economic and social expansion. The roughly $9,000 that the government grants to Soviet families in the first year cannot sustain them for long, and without private and foreign investment there will be too few jobs for them to fill. SATEC, a Jerusalem-based high-tech firm founded to capitalize on the contributions of Soviet immigrants, employs 45 people and receives 1,200 resumes a year. "We're able to choose the best people because so many apply," says spokeswoman Sami Oberlander. "Many of those who work for us have family still looking for jobs, or who want to come to Israel but are waiting until the job situation improves."

Those Soviets who seek to retrieve their Jewish heritage, or who view Israel as the Holy Land where destiny draws them, will come regardless of what hardship awaits. But others, in search only of a better life, may find little to choose between the Soviet Union and Israel. Their dream most often lies in America. But the United States will admit only 50,000 Soviets this year, which still leaves many of the country's Jews wondering where on earth to go.

With reporting by Ann M. Simmons/Moscow and Robert Slater/Jerusalem