You were there in the hardest moments. When the world was burning, you were one of the few who ran into the fire to put it out. You gave everything with a kind of bravery few possess.
And then you come home. The voices of your kids become unbearable. Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. And that Excel sheet you left open… suddenly doesn’t make any sense.
And then they say, “Poor guy… he’s in shock.”
“Shock” is a terrible word, and it’s about time we stopped using it. This isn’t about terminology. It’s about respect. Respect for those who gave everything and did their duty; respect for people who are reacting exactly as humans are supposed to after enduring the impossible thing called war.
It means showing respect for the very best of us. Words create reality. The Hebrew term for it, “halum,” resonates in the public consciousness and immediately paints a picture. It’s a picture of a broken person, terrified, trembling in a corner. A victim – someone to be pitied, looked at with sorrowful eyes, someone you have to walk on eggshells around.
That picture is a lie.
It’s an insult. It’s time to erase it from the Israeli lexicon and from our minds.
A change to the Israeli lexicon
First, let’s talk about who these people are, whom society labels in this way. These are the people who, in the moment of truth, got up and left everything: family, work, a comfortable life, and ran straight into the inferno. They didn’t think twice.
They saw the country in danger, citizens under attack, and they went into the fire with everything they had in order to protect our home. These are our best people. They are the bravest among us, the ones with the most strength and audacity in Israeli society. They are the face of heroism.
So how is it that with a single phrase, we turn them into victims in need of a savior?
It mostly comes down to a misunderstanding of the battlefield and its effects on the human body. Any combat soldier can tell you about the changes your body goes through when it enters a war zone. All your systems switch into extreme survival mode. The hormonal system fights to keep the body constantly alert and on edge. The nervous system shuts down anything not critical for combat.
You don’t believe me? Ask a soldier how many days go by before they can finally go to the bathroom after deploying. The body enters a state of emergency because it is, in fact, in one. It is a prolonged, demanding, and extreme state of emergency.
The question is, who tells the body it can finally relax? Sleeping in your own bed doesn’t just magically calm down a system that has grown accustomed to functioning under extreme combat stress.
This isn’t a disease. It’s not a weakness.
It is a combat reaction.
A combat reaction is the standard human response to an extreme and abnormal situation. The constant hyper-vigilance, the nightmares, jumping at every sudden noise, the rage that sometimes comes from nowhere, none of these are signs of “shell-shocked” or broken people. They are the echoes of the incredible survival mechanism that kept them alive in hell. It’s living proof of the depth of their sacrifice for this country.
The term “shell-shocked,” a slang relic from World War I, is an archaic and harmful phrase that was dropped from professional terminology decades ago. It defines the entire person by their injury. It applies a humiliating and stigmatizing label that stops people from asking for help by telling them they’re “damaged.”
We, as a society, must lead a paradigm shift. Instead of seeing a terrified, “shell-shocked” victim, we need to see a powerful individual experiencing combat reaction.
This change isn’t just semantic; it’s fundamental.
Changing the language is the key to changing the entire perception. It stops us from treating these heroes like pitiful cases to be pitied. Pity is diminishing and patronizing. They don’t need our pity.
They need respect, understanding, and practical support.
What does this look like on the ground? It means talking to them at eye level; offering concrete help, whether it’s navigating bureaucracy, listening without judgment, or simply being there.
It means not making assumptions and not being afraid of their stories. It means understanding that the person standing in front of you is the same strong, brave person he or she was before they went into battle, only now they’re carrying an invisible burden on their shoulders.
This new conversation needs to permeate the media, social media, our living rooms, and the halls of government.
This is one of the central missions we at the “War for the Soul” forum have taken on: to change the way combat trauma is treated and perceived in Israel. We must demand that the media use the correct terminology, “combat reactions,” and tell the stories of heroism and resilience, not the stories of victimhood.
The next time you meet a soldier dealing with the invisible scars of war, don’t call them shell-shocked. See them for who they truly are. Some of our very best people, powerful heroes, are experiencing combat reactions. Give them respect, not pity. Because they earned that respect with blood, sweat, and bravery that most of us will never know.
The writer is a combat reservist and co-founder of War for the Soul, a forum of reservists seeking to bring a new approach to the treatment of trauma and combat reactions.