War, crime, and instability are shaping the childhood of Israel’s Jewish, Muslim, and Christian children alike.

I write these words not only as a citizen of Israel, but as someone whose life has been shaped by loss and hardship. I am an orphan. I live with a physical disability and rely on my brothers and sisters for care and shelter. Despite these challenges, I completed a master’s degree in political science at the University of Haifa.

My personal story is one example of resilience. But I worry deeply about the generation now growing up around me — children who have known little except crisis, fear and uncertainty.

What kind of future awaits them?

Over the past decade, Israel has endured repeated upheavals: political instability, multiple election cycles, military confrontations and wars — most recently the war that erupted after the events of October 7. Alongside these national crises, Arab society in Israel has faced another form of terror: the escalating violence of criminal organizations.

For many families, the consequences have been devastating. Children have watched fathers and brothers murdered in criminal violence, while others have lost relatives in war. Entire communities have been left feeling unprotected and abandoned.

The result is a generation growing up with trauma as part of daily life.

Childhood interrupted

Today’s ten-year-olds have already experienced events that previous generations often encountered only as adults.

First came the COVID-19 pandemic. Schools closed abruptly, forcing students and teachers alike into remote learning with little preparation. In many Arab communities, the situation was even worse: families lacked computers, reliable internet connections and the resources needed for distance learning.

Children lost critical years of education.

Even after the pandemic eased, stability did not return. Repeated military conflicts have continued to disrupt school life. Each year seems to begin or end with emergency conditions, sirens and closures. More lessons move online, and more educational material is lost.

For many students, the cumulative gap now equals an entire year — sometimes two — of missed learning.

How will these children complete high school?

How will they succeed in university or integrate into the labor market?

War does not affect children only in classrooms. It reshapes their emotional world. When rockets fall, children run for shelter. In many Arab villages there are few protected rooms or public shelters. Families often choose what they hope is the safest room in the house and wait anxiously for the explosions to stop.

The fear is real and immediate.

Jewish children in the south of the country have faced similar realities for years. Sirens, shelters and rocket warnings become part of everyday life.

Add to this the constant flow of frightening news during the pandemic — reports of disease, death and danger — and it becomes clear that many Israeli children have spent their earliest years living under a continuous sense of threat.

Some wet their beds from fear. Others develop anxiety, depression or behavioral problems.

These are not isolated incidents. They are signs of a generation under stress.

Conflict also disrupts the moments meant to bring families together.

Sirens can interrupt a Ramadan iftar meal, a Christmas gathering or a Jewish holiday dinner. Families rush away from their tables toward shelters. Celebration turns into fear within seconds.

For children who have lost a parent, the pain is even deeper. Whether a father dies in war or is murdered in criminal violence, the child experiences the same absence. At every holiday table, the empty chair is impossible to ignore.

The child grows up seeing other children with their fathers while he has none. The sense of loss becomes part of the holiday itself.

Children forced to become adults

Perhaps the most troubling change is the way childhood itself is disappearing. Older siblings often become caretakers during emergencies. A ten-year-old may comfort younger brothers and sisters while sirens sound. Sometimes even a six-year- old tries to calm a toddler who is crying in fear.

Instead of parents protecting them from harsh realities, these children become protectors themselves.

They are forced to grow up too quickly.

Psychologists describe such experiences as trauma — and when crises occur repeatedly, the result can be cumulative trauma that affects mental health for years. What will happen when an entire generation carries such wounds?

A responsibility we cannot ignore

Israel’s children — Jewish, Muslim and Christian alike — deserve more than a childhood defined by fear, loss and instability.

They need stable schools, safe communities and access to mental-health support. They need protection from crime and violence. And above all, they need the chance to experience childhood as a time of growth rather than survival.

I know that resilience is possible. My own life proves it.

But resilience should not be the only option we offer our children.

If we fail to address the trauma shaping this generation, the consequences will not disappear with the next ceasefire or election cycle.

They will shape the future of Israeli society itself.

And that is a future we cannot afford to ignore.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)