Why Israel Must Commit to Permanent Mental-Health Support After October 7
Standfirst
Some national responsibilities do not expire. They deepen with time. The psychological wounds inflicted on October 7 did not come with an end date, and neither should the care owed to those who bear them. As the Knesset advances legislation to grant unlimited mental-health treatment to victims of terror, Israel has an opportunity to align its moral clarity with its strategic wisdom — and to model what resilience and renewal truly mean.
I want to begin slowly, deliberately.
October 7 was not a moment that passed. It was a rupture that continues to unfold – in memories, in bodies, in families, in sleep disrupted and trust shaken. It lives on not only in those who survived attacks or captivity, but also in the soldiers who ran toward danger, the reservists who arrived too late to prevent horror yet soon enough to absorb it, and the civilians whose sense of safety was shattered in a single morning.
For that reason alone, the idea that mental-health care for October 7 victims should be time-limited has always struck me as misaligned with reality. Trauma does not operate on budget cycles. It does not respect administrative calendars. It arrives in waves, often years apart, sometimes decades later.
This is why I welcome – sincerely and without reservation – the Knesset’s current work to grant unlimited psychological treatment to victims of the October 7 attacks. It is a necessary step. But I believe it must also be understood as a beginning, not a ceiling.
The bill advanced in preliminary reading by the Knesset, sponsored by Merav Michaeli and Moshe Gafni, recognizes something essential: victims of hostile acts should not have to prove disability, nor ration therapy sessions, to receive care.
That recognition matters. It signals that the state understands trauma not as weakness but as injury – often invisible, always consequential.
Yet even as the bill moves forward, I find myself returning to a deeper question: Why would we ever imagine an end point for such care?
Consider the testimonies of former hostages, soldiers, and survivors who speak of nightmares that begin only after physical safety returns. Or the reservists whose psychological distress surfaces months later, once adrenaline fades and silence settles in. Or the families who discover that children who appeared “fine” begin to struggle years after the event, when developmental milestones awaken dormant fears.
To place an expiry date on treatment is to misunderstand trauma’s nature.
I have written before about the moral responsibility Israel bears toward its service men and women – regulars and reservists alike. Combat soldiers accept risks most citizens will never face. They enter environments where death is not abstract. They make decisions under pressure that no training can fully prepare them for.
Since October 7, the scale of psychological need among reservists alone has surged dramatically. The IDF’s own mental-health units have reported exponential increases in trauma-related cases. Encouragingly, soldiers are now seeking help earlier – a sign that stigma is receding. But early access does not negate long-term need.
For some, trauma resolves with time and treatment. For others, it evolves – triggered by anniversaries, family changes, new conflicts, or even peace. The fact that many soldiers may require lifelong support is not a failure of resilience. It is a consequence of service.
If Israel rightly commits to lifelong pensions, medical care, and rehabilitation for those physically wounded in defense of the country, then psychological wounds deserve no lesser standing.
Recent research has added nuance to our understanding of post-October 7 distress. Studies analyzing real-time helpline data reveal that while acute suicidality declined in the immediate aftermath – likely due to collective solidarity – loneliness surged, particularly among women and younger Israelis.
This finding is quietly devastating.
Loneliness is not dramatic. It does not trigger emergency headlines. But it corrodes over time, deepening depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress. It reminds us that national unity, while powerful, is not sufficient. Long-term healing requires sustained connection, consistent care, and the assurance that one will not be abandoned once public attention moves on.
Organizations such as SAHAR, which provide anonymous, text-based emotional support, have become silent lifelines in this landscape. They demonstrate how innovation can complement empathy – how technology, when used wisely, can extend care rather than replace it.
But even the most dedicated civil-society actors cannot substitute for state commitment.
Another strand of research from Israeli universities points to a crucial insight: trauma intensifies and persists when sufferers perceive their pain as unfair or irreparable. When victims believe that what was taken from them cannot be restored – or that the state has moved on – recovery becomes harder.
This is not abstract psychology. It is lived experience.
Unlimited, lifelong access to mental-health care directly counters this sense of injustice. It communicates that the state acknowledges the harm, accepts responsibility for its aftermath, and refuses to measure healing with a stopwatch.
In that sense, such care is not only compassionate. It is preventative.
Israel often speaks – rightly – of resilience. But resilience is frequently misunderstood as toughness, endurance, or speed of recovery. In truth, resilience is patience. It is the willingness to remain present long after the cameras leave.
Renewal, too, is not an event. It is a process that unfolds over years, sometimes generations.
If Israel wishes to innovate the future of Israel in a way that honors its people, then mental-health policy must reflect this temporal reality. Lifelong care is not indulgence. It is infrastructure – as vital as physical rehabilitation, education, or housing.
We are a nation capable of extraordinary foresight in defense technology, medicine, and emergency response. Applying that same strategic clarity to psychological care is not beyond us.
I write this not in anger, but in hope.
There is something profoundly hopeful about a society willing to say: We will stay with you for as long as it takes. Not because it is cheap. Not because it is easy. But because it is right.
Granting unlimited mental-health treatment to October 7 victims – civilians, soldiers, reservists, and families – should be understood as a joyful commitment to life. It affirms that Israel measures victory not only in intercepted rockets or technological breakthroughs, but in the quiet restoration of human wholeness.
This is how nations renew themselves after trauma. Not by forgetting, but by caring without conditions.
If the Knesset completes this legislation – and if it expands its spirit to ensure truly lifelong support – Israel will have taken a step worthy of its deepest values. A step that aligns resilience with compassion, renewal with responsibility.
And in doing so, it will remind the world – and itself – that strength is not only what we build to defend life, but what we sustain to heal it.
- James Ogunleye, PhD, is the founder and editor of RenewingIsrael.org.
- A similar version of this essay appears in Resilience & Renewal: The Future of Israel, available on Amazon.