Over the past two years, I have met many patients from Israel’s security forces: soldiers, police officers, and service personnel who carry within them the hidden scars of war. Some have returned from the frontlines in Gaza and the north, while others are trying to rebuild their lives after years of service or exposure to terror. They look strong, composed, and disciplined, but beneath the surface another war is taking place: silent, exhausting, and enduring. It is the war for the ability to breathe, to sleep, and to trust the world again.
Since October 7, thousands of new patients have come to us, soldiers, women in uniform, members of the security forces, and civilians wounded in terror attacks, all living with unbearable physical and emotional pain. Estimates from 2024 indicate that around 520,000 Israelis now suffer from post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). This is a national scale crisis projected to cost the state over 19 billion shekels over the next three decades. As the CEO of SyqeAir, I see this not only as a business responsibility but as a public mission, to provide precise medical relief with minimal side effects and to stand beside those who need support most.
PTSD has become one of Israel’s most difficult and persistent challenges. It affects soldiers and civilians alike, but its impact extends far beyond the individual. The family of a trauma survivor lives in constant tension, in sleepless nights, in quiet anxiety, and in invisible pain. Children learn to interpret silence, partners carry the emotional weight, and society as a whole pays the price in quiet suffering.
This is also a massive systemic challenge. The public healthcare system struggles to meet the growing demand. Israel faces a shortage of psychologists, psychiatrists, and trauma specialists. Public treatment centers are full, waiting times can last for months, and many patients are forced to seek private care that they cannot afford. The state must now build a true national infrastructure for trauma care: dedicated budgets, professional training programs, regional trauma centers, and better coordination between the army, the Ministry of Defense, the National Insurance Institute, and the public health system.
The crisis is not only medical or emotional but also economic and social. Studies show that each person living with PTSD costs the Israeli economy approximately 1.8 million shekels over a lifetime. These costs arise not only from treatment but from lost productivity, reduced work participation, and the toll on families and physical health. When the numbers reach hundreds of thousands, this becomes a national emergency that requires a coordinated and long term policy response.
As the head of a medical company working at the heart of Israel’s emotional recovery, I face a question that no business school ever teaches: how do you make decisions about human pain? How do you allocate resources when there will never be enough? How do you approve one treatment and postpone another when both stem from the same deep wound? How do you preserve empathy in a system that constantly demands efficiency, regulation, and financial discipline?
I believe that the true test of leadership is not only measured by efficiency but by empathy. Medical leadership is not just about innovation; it is about understanding the human stories behind the data.
At SyqeAir, we accompany our patients through every step of their journey, from obtaining a medical license to being paired with a specialized nurse trained in both physical and emotional pain. The stories we hear are often heartbreaking, yet I see it as a profound privilege entrusted to us by the Ministry of Defense to care for people who have paid the highest personal price and to provide them with real tools for recovery. From within pain and fracture, I believe a new kind of leadership can emerge: one that combines sensitivity with systemic responsibility and manages to touch the individual without losing sight of the whole.
Israel must rethink its approach to trauma. This is not a marginal medical issue; it is a pillar of national resilience. Just as the army protects the body, the state must protect the soul. That means creating a properly funded trauma system, shortening bureaucratic processes in the National Insurance Institute, training professionals across all levels, and removing the barriers that prevent people from seeking help. Because when a soldier or a citizen gives up on the system, they are not only abandoning treatment; they are losing faith.
I write these words not only as a CEO but as someone who meets, every day, the faces of Israel’s silent war. PTSD is not weakness; it is a human response to an inhuman reality. Our challenge as leaders is to find a way for an entire nation to heal, not only to treat.
Hagit Kamin is the CEO of SyqeAir