It is hard to explain to people who have not lived through war, to those whose families were not killed, who did not watch their friends shot by snipers, who did not watch their parents cry because they had nothing to give their children to eat; who did not survive a siege; who were not, like me, forced onto trains and expelled from our country instead of going to school.

We ended up in foreign lands, having to learn everything from scratch, and some of us were only 5 years old. It is difficult to convey what deep and lasting mental consequences this leaves for an individual and for an entire society. It is hard to explain what it means that whole generations, instead of growing up in schoolrooms, grew up in basements, and that even 30 years later, they still have trouble fitting into society.

I speak of those of us who lived through the wars in the Balkans. But this can easily be translated to Ukraine, Gaza, Sudan or any other part of the world going through war today: the geography may differ, but the effects on the human body and mind are the same.

Recent data show that the war and genocide in Gaza are already producing a wave of mental-health damage in Israel as well. Unless addressed urgently, its effects will reverberate for generations.

According to widely cited data collected in the months following Oct. 7, up to 3 million Israelis may now be suffering from symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), depression or anxiety. Surveys indicated that 34% of respondents reported symptoms consistent with PTSD, 32% reported moderate to severe depression, and 21% experienced symptoms of anxiety.

A 2024 predictive model, published in peer-reviewed medical literature, estimated that roughly 520,000 people may eventually develop PTSD directly attributable to war trauma. This is not a peripheral problem; it is a systemic national challenge.

Military and civilian studies likewise report sharp rises in depression, anxiety and PTSD. For soldiers exposed to intense combat, urban destruction and accounts of atrocities, the psychological burden is even heavier. Evidence from past wars shows that such trauma often embeds itself deeply, shaping behavior, social trust and family dynamics long after fighting stops.

We do not need to guess what the long-term toll of this trauma might be. Former war zones offer painfully clear evidence. In one longitudinal study of war-affected civilians in post-conflict Sarajevo, researchers found that even 11 years after the war ended, individuals continued to exhibit elevated levels of anxiety, depression, somatization, hostility and general psychological distress. That means decades of shattered lives: weakened communities, impaired productivity, increased substance abuse, disrupted family structures and deeply ingrained mistrust.

Meanwhile, Gaza is experiencing one of the worst mental-health collapses ever documented. A population survey conducted between late 2024 and early 2025 found that more than 80% met criteria for probable PTSD and more than 70% reported moderate to severe depression. Many lost family members, homes, and livelihoods and witnessed death and destruction on a massive scale.

While Gaza’s humanitarian crisis is a moral catastrophe in its own right, its psychological effects do not remain contained. Trauma travels through refugees, diaspora communities, regional instability, and the moral injury that accompanies witnessing or participating in large-scale violence. For Israel, living beside communities surviving unspeakable suffering creates a complicated emotional landscape of empathy, denial, guilt and grief, each capable of leaving lasting scars.

There is a deeper truth that Israelis must confront: the trauma now engulfing Israeli society cannot be separated from the actions of its own government in Gaza.

For decades, Palestinians have lived under occupation, blockade, displacement and repeated military assaults, all of which generate their own cycles of trauma. Ignoring this reality not only dehumanizes Palestinians; it blinds Israelis to the roots of the violence shaping their own future.

Much of the world, including close allies, has condemned the conduct and genocide of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government in Gaza. Israel’s political isolation is deepening: several European countries have stated they will withdraw participation from cultural, sports or academic events if Israel is included, signaling that the reputational damage is becoming structural and long-term.

This isolation is not only geopolitical. It is psychological. A society that refuses to confront the suffering it inflicts on others ultimately inflicts a moral injury on itself, an injury that, like PTSD, festers across generations.

If Israelis want a future that is stable, healthy, and dignified, they must condemn this government's actions and stand behind Palestinians, recognize them as an equally worthy people whose lives, trauma and aspirations matter. Addressing Palestinian suffering is not merely a diplomatic or humanitarian obligation; it is a prerequisite for Israel’s own healing.

Israel now faces a generational crossroads. It can treat this moment as another episode in an endless cycle of war, or it can recognize that healing requires moral clarity, accountability and a commitment to coexistence. Because healing is not optional. It is the only path forward for Israelis, Palestinians and the generations who will inherit what we choose today.