Life is governed by social contracts. They are an important part of how society functions. When social norms are violated, the delicate balance of trust and cooperation that underpins our communities is disrupted, leading to conflict and disarray. In the aftermath of October 7, the Israeli communities of the Gaza border region lost all semblance of normality. Eight months later, in the absence of any unifying structure, each community is working to rebuild in its own way, often with the help of civil society groups. While each community has unique needs and challenges, each of them feels that the most important thing is to stay together.
Following October 7, Kibbutz Reim’s social worker, Zohar described the two forms of trust or social contracts that broke on that day. The first was between the government, army, and the Gaza border communities and the second between parents and their children. Children she said, saw fear and desperation on their parents’ faces and a realisation that they may not be able to save them.
Kibbutz Reim is now residing in South Tel Aviv and said to be the world’s first vertical kibbutz – almost the entire community has been temporarily relocated to a newly built apartment block until they can return home. It’s an incredible model of what community resilience looks like and how philanthropy and civil society can collaborate.
On Oct 7, over 70 terrorists breached the kibbutz security. Their first responders were armed with a mere 6 rifles, but managed to hold off the terrorists until the army arrived. Eleven first responders died and five kibbutz members were killed inside their homes, most by holding the doors of their safe rooms and being shot from the outside. Four Thai workers were kidnapped and because more couldn’t fit in the terrorists’ truck, a further three workers were murdered. A family of Bedouins were also kidnapped from the kibbutz.
Zohar describes the community as in the depths of trauma, they haven’t started mourning, rehabilitation cannot begin until the hostages are returned. Many community members don’t know if they have the mental resources to return to the site of their destroyed kibbutz, to the very place where their friends and family were massacred.
Many members are experiencing financial challenges where their employment is based at the kibbutz. It is not logistically possible to commute because they cannot be separated from their children at this time.
Despite all the issues, their main objective is to keep the community together. “We are a strong and resilient community and we have to withstand these challenges together. We know there is a possibility that we will be split because some people have to go back and some cannot go back, at least not yet. And our challenge is to stay together even if we are not physically in the same place.”
Zohar described the first month, when the community had been evacuated to a hotel in Eilat, as a life saver. “Because we were together, we saw everyone at least once or twice a day at meals. We sat together for coffee, for drinks, for a smoke. Just being together, not having to speak, just looking in each other’s eyes was very important for us.”
In the hotel, they met the humanitarian organizations that helped provide some of the services they needed to stay together, “IsraAid assisted us by allowing us to reclaim control over our lives. They raised funds, provided temporary living solutions, mental health therapy and facilitated whatever we needed.”
Hotel living prompted many challenges particularly with the children. The coke machine was available 24/7. Parents could not control their children’s’ dietary choices and sleep schedules. The family framework teetered precariously with parents unable to implement boundaries. Children would skip school, refused to socialise and participate in activities.
So, when an apartment block in Tel Aviv was offered, 95% of community opted to move to Tel Aviv despite the stark contrast with the kibbutz lifestyle. Zohar describes walking the streets of Tel Aviv with an overarching heaviness that prevents pure enjoyment of the space knowing what has brought her here. “I’m displaced from my home. I want to be home. I want to be in my backyard drinking my coffee, seeing all the fields around. I don’t want all this noise,” she implores.
The government has advised the community that July is being proposed for their return and that funding for their temporary accommodation may cease at that time. Grappling with this information, Zohar counters that the war is still ongoing, their hostages have not returned, there has been no commencement on the rebuilding in the kibbutz. But most of all she states: “the people telling us to go back now are the same ones that told us we could sleep quietly on October 6. We have no trust in them. They have to regain our trust, not put an ultimatum.”
Not everyone is ready to return. Some need more time to heal and keep their children in an established routine. This is where assistance with healing and a focus on mental health is critical.
Ophir is from Moshav Yevul. Hearing the sirens early on that Saturday morning, her family took refuge in their safe room. The electricity was down and communication was minimal. Everyone who owned a weapon was asked to help defend the moshav.
Messages kept arriving of the attack ensuing. Ophir’s daughter had spent the night at Kibbutz Be’eri, which was one of the hardest hit communities, with her boyfriend. From her saferoom her daughter described what she knew and the absence of the army to save them. “Send me Tehilim chapters,” she pleaded. “So I screenshot the chapters one by one and sent them to her.”
At 7am Ophir became aware that the moshav next door to them was evacuating. Determining it wasn’t safe to wait any longer, they fled with nothing but the clothes on their backs, squeezing 18 family members into three cars. They drove to Masada. It wasn’t until almost 24 hours later that she learnt that her daughter had been evacuated to the Dead Sea as well. The next day Ophir and her family joined the survivors of Kibbutz Be’eri at the Dead Sea.
It was quickly determined that establishing a kindergarten and school was the priority. The sooner the children could find stability, the swifter the community could begin to heal.
“This is when I first became aware of IsraAid,” she stated. “They brought all the furniture and equipment from pencils to tents. They built a space for the teenagers and a WeWork space for those needing to work. As well as assisting in the construction of structures, IsraAid helped us recognise our own capabilities.”
Ophir described the significance of those who came to volunteer, whether a simple making of a cup of tea, donating of necessities or larger items such as washing machines. “It’s the attention, knowing that someone cares for you, understanding that we are not alone, we are not just the Yevul community, but that the entire Israeli and Jewish community has our back.”
Many community members started returning to the moshav in December, while others stayed near the Dead Sea, and still others were scattered around the country. The challenge remains to keep the community as a community even if some are to live separately.
Tuval is a teacher who lived in Nir Yitzhak. She too fled with her two young boys to their saferoom in the early hours of October 7. They soon became aware this was unlike other occasions when they could exit after a few minutes. They remained in the safe room for 15 hours understanding that terrorists were roaming the kibbutz. They even said their goodbyes to their friends not knowing if they would see them again. They began to brace themselves for the possibility of the terrorists’ arrival.
It was only at noon the next day that the army finally arrived. They were moved to the kindergarten where they reunited with other community members. 150 of them stayed there for a further 24 hours. At midnight they were relocated to Eilat. They were allocated one hotel room – four of them plus their dogs.
With the assistance of IsraAid, kindergartens and schools were established. Teachers were appointed. Activities were organised for the children which enabled their parents to take care of themselves.
The Nir Yitzhak community determined relatively early that they needed to move to more sustainable accommodation where there would be more room to spread out. After Hannukah, they relocated to Eilot and while still a hotel, there was more space and open areas.
They too are being informed of the July deadline. And similarly, she believes this is too soon to compel the community to make a decision to return. Uncertainty and fear are the emotions that characterise their plight. It’s worse for the children who don’t know if and when they may depart, if friendships and activities can be maintained.
What is evident after hearing from many community leaders, is that while each community prioritises remaining together, each also has its own specific needs. One of the greatest challenges in meeting those needs is developing bespoke solutions and constantly reassessing whether changes are required.
IsraAid, an NGO that responds to global humanitarian emergencies, operating on six continents, had never operated in Israel prior to October 7. But in the ensuing chaos, it was quickly recognised there was no other local organisation with experience in dealing with emergencies at this scale. They were trained in acute trauma, in establishing education systems in crisis regions. Also critical to their disaster response approach was the understanding of the necessity to work collaboratively with each community and ensure the transfer of essential skills. But it has taken a toll as it’s the first time everyone working in Israel is personally implicated in the disaster.
If there can be said to be a silver lining, or possibly a mere silver thread since the horrors of October 7, it is the demonstration of civic responsibility of the thousands who volunteered, showing up when the country was in the depths of crisis. Over half of the Israeli population volunteered in some way after October 7. And thousands of volunteers keep arriving from around the world. The antidote to the sense of helplessness experienced by many was and still is to take control and take action. In times of uncertainty, reclaiming agency through decisive action remains a powerful remedy, empowering us to not only impact those in crisis, but also positively influence our own lives.
