In the wake of October 7th and now more pronounced during Operation Roaring Lion, the landscape of trauma in Israel has shifted from an acute crisis to a grueling endurance test. At ELI – Israel Association for Child Protection, we have always understood that the bedrock of healing is consistency. But how do you maintain that foundation when the sky is filled with sirens and the very act of traveling to a clinic becomes a source of fresh anxiety?
The current security situation has placed an unprecedented strain on our clinical operations. Both patients and therapists now face a harrowing calculation: is the benefit of a fifty-minute session worth the risk of being caught in a rocket barrage on a highway? For many families, the answer is a heart-wrenching "no."
Yet, in the face of these barriers, we are witnessing something profound: the radical adaptability of the human heart.
To bridge the gap, we have leaned heavily into technology. Zoom has become a lifeline for many, but it is not a universal key. For young children, a digital screen cannot replace the tactile safety of a therapist’s playroom. For others, the barrier is cultural.
Take, for example, a 15-year-old boy from an ultra-Orthodox family currently under our care. For him, the obstacles to healing seemed absolute. Public transportation, his only means of reaching us, was too dangerous. Because his family is strictly observant, the "Zoom solution" did not exist. With his school closed, he was effectively stranded in silence.
Faced with the total severance of his support, his therapist pivoted to the simplest technology available: the telephone.
In clinical psychology, we often view the phone as a "downgrade." We lose the nuance of body language and the depth of eye contact. Yet, in this emergency, a miracle of connection occurred. This boy, who had been painfully introverted and guarded during months of face-to-face sessions, began to speak with a newfound courage.
The absence of eye contact, which we initially viewed as a deficit, became his sanctuary. Without the perceived "pressure" of being watched, he felt a new sense of security. The phone acted as a protective veil, allowing him to voice fears that had remained locked away in the clinic. The conversations became fluid, raw, and transformative.
This is the "voice of hope" we must carry forward. It is the realization that while war can close our schools and empty our streets, it cannot sever the bonds of human care. Resilience needs the creativity to find a way back to each other when the traditional paths are blocked.
At ELI, we are learning that the "clinical setting" is no longer defined by four walls and a desk. It is defined by the strength of the connection we maintain, by any means necessary. Even in the darkness of a siren, a simple phone line can become a bridge to a brighter future. We remain committed to ensuring that no child is left to process their fear in silence, because even when we cannot see each other, we are never truly alone.
Eran Zimrin is the CEO of ELI – Israel Association for Child Protection, founded in 1979 to prevent and treat child abuse in Israel. To support their mission, visit the American Friends of ELI.