One of the most tragic incidents of the war occurred on July 27, 2024. A missile carrying a warhead of dozens of kilograms struck a soccer field in the Druze town of Majdal Shams in the northern Golan Heights, killing 12 children and wounding more than 30 others. It was the most deadly attack against Israeli civilians since October 7 and it led to a major escalation in hostilities between Israel and Hezbollah. Three days after the tragedy, Israel assassinated Fouad Shukr, Hezbollah’s chief of staff, in Beirut and subsequently launched additional operations against the organization, including the so-called “pager bombings” and the assassination of its secretary-general, Hassan Nasrallah.

In addition to the pain and the loss that have accompanied the families – and, indeed, the entire Druze community – since then, there are some in Majdal Shams who believe that the state has abandoned them when it comes to dealing with the physical and emotional scars left by the tragedy. From their perspective, the day that the television cameras and the newspaper reporters left their town, the expressions of solidarity disappeared – only to be replaced by what many families describe as abandonment by the establishment. Many of the promises that were made to them in the aftermath of the tragedy have not been kept and there is an overall sense of helplessness in their efforts to rehabilitate their children.

“My son Ogeain, who is 13, was standing on exactly the spot where the missile fell. When he heard the siren, he ran toward the portable concrete shelter. He didn’t make it in time and lay down on the ground near it. He lost his hearing in one ear from the explosion and has a hole in one of his lungs,” says Suha Ibrahim, 47, a resident of Majdal Shams. Recovering from the physical injuries is just part of the difficulties they are facing, she adds, since Ogeain also has to deal with the death of his cousin and his best friend. “After four months, they just left us alone. We did not get any assistance – not financial and not psychological. They promised the boy private lessons, but nothing materialized.”

Other families in the town have similar complaints. Like Ogeain Ibrahim, there are many other children in Majdal Shams who were left with serious physical injuries on that accursed evening: shrapnel, damage to internal organs, hearing loss, emotional problems and anxiety. Their parents complain that they have found themselves lost in a sea of complicated bureaucracy that they do not have the means to navigate. Some of them have to take a day off work every week to make the long drive to visit private doctors with their children. Others say that they have been told to submit countless requests to authorities, to appear before medical committees and to find psychologists and rehabilitation experts themselves – even though there are precious few in that part of the Golan Heights.

In addition, the families claim that they were given one-time stipends after the tragic incident, some of which came from private nonprofit organizations, but the therapy and treatment they were promised by representatives of the state were never provided and requests for reimbursement for these expenses have been repeatedly rejected. One family says that, more than 10 months after the incident, the state has only now reimbursed them for expenses totaling around 28,000 shekels.

Another issue that many residents of Majdal Shams have complained about is how money that was donated by private organizations was eventually distributed. While the families of the 12 children who were killed were given specific stipends, the families of children who were injured say that they have to fight for every shekel.

It is important to note that the State of Israel supports any citizen injured in an enemy attack, but there are many hoops to jump through before final approval. This includes: obtaining confirmation from the Ministry of Defence that the individual in question was, indeed, injured in a hostile act; appearing before a medical committee, which determined the percentage disability of the individual; seeking approval for state-funded psychological treatment; and submitting detailed receipts in order to get reimbursed for previous expenditure. The families, who belong to an insular community in an isolated location, barely speak Hebrew and are detached, both physically and in terms of mentality, from the mechanisms of approval. This makes it extremely difficult for them to fulfill the state’s demands.

Shomrim approached officials from the National Insurance Institute, who said that the picture is a lot more complex. They say that the NII was aware of the complexity of the situation and therefore published Arabic translations of the relevant material, provided an Arabic-speaking social worker and is doing everything it can to help with the rehabilitation of the children. At the same time, they add, the institute is working within the confines of the law when it comes to payments and reimbursement and, moreover, has been operating since the outbreak of the war under an enormous workload, which often leads to delays. The full response from the National Insurance Institute appears at the end of this article.

“My son Ogeain, who is 13, was standing on exactly the spot where the missile fell. When he heard the siren, he ran toward the portable concrete shelter. He didn’t make it in time and lay down on the ground near it. He lost his hearing in one ear from the explosion and has a hole in one of his lungs,” says Suha Ibrahim.

‘The floor of the clinic was red’

Even though several months have passed since the tragedy, the families still find it hard to talk about that fatal evening.

“I saw a group of children laying in the road. They were all bleeding,” says Saleha Rada, a resident of Majdal Shams in her 40s and the mother of three small children. “Suddenly, I saw my son Juan pop up from among them and he looked straight into my eyes. If he hadn’t looked at me, I would not have known it was him. His face was black from the smoke of the explosion and he had been hit by shrapnel. I ran over to him and then someone picked him up and took him to the town clinic. They took me, too. I will never forget the stench that day. In those first moments, it was impossible to know what was happening.”

That same day, Julian was also rushed to the same clinic. Shomrim spoke to his mother – 38-year-old mother-of-four Nariman Ibrahim, who owns guest houses near Lake Ram on the Golan Heights. “He was at soccer practice and my husband and I were both at work, cleaning the guest houses for the new guests who were due to arrive. Suddenly, the Home Front Command app on my phone buzzed. I tried to call my children and Julian didn’t answer. When I arrived on the scene, the sights I saw were horrifying. The clinic had been turned into an emergency center to treat the wounded kids. There weren’t enough beds – or even enough chairs. Some of the injured kids were just lying on the floor, which was red with blood. I found Julian and saw that he was covered in shrapnel wounds. When he saw me, he just said, ‘I’m okay, I’m okay’ and clung on to my legs. He hadn’t even had all of his wounded tended to.”

Some of the children were transferred from the clinic in Majdal Shams to larger medical centers, where they received treatment and began their initial rehabilitation in the days and weeks that followed. During this time, their families received generous support from the state, as well as from private organizations and individuals. Equally important, they felt the solidarity and moral support of the entire Israeli public.

But, as often happens in Israel, events moved quickly, and the Majdal Shams tragedy was soon pushed off the front pages and out of the evening news broadcasts. Within weeks, the families were left to cope with their pain and injuries on their own.

For people who barely speak Hebrew, who live in an almost completely isolated region and whose daily life rarely – if ever – entails interactions with the authorities, any such contact can be a challenge. This is even truer in the aftermath of such a huge tragedy. The National Insurance Institute, it is worth noting again, says that the relevant information was translated into Arabic and that it made every effort to make the content accessible and clear to those affected – including by allocating an Arabic-speaking social worker. The families are not convinced.

The sense of isolation is also evident when it comes to dealing with emotional rehabilitation, especially among young children and teenagers, following a traumatic experience that has affected them deeply. Suha’s son, for example, underwent several surgeries after he was injured in the missile strike. “At first, the psychologist said that the school would fund my son’s psychiatric treatment. After that, we were told that the NII would foot the bill,” she says. “In the meantime, we are paying out of our own pockets for a psychiatrist, as well as the expense of traveling to medical committees and so on. We have not been reimbursed for this, even though we sent all of the receipts to the NII.”

As an example of what she sees as neglect on the part of the state, she says that, early on, the Jewish Agency told the families to submit price quotes for any equipment they might need – from orthopedic beds and special bandages to medicine – but, in the end, for reasons to do with the approval process, her family was unable to get any assistance from the Jewish Agency. “We’re lucky that a lot of other things were organized by volunteers and not through official bodies of the state,” she adds.

Rightly or not, much of the families’ anger is directed toward the Majdal Shams Regional Council, which they view as the nearest official governmental body to them. “The council gave us nothing apart from one voucher for 500 shekels,” Suha says.

Saleha Rada is also angry with the council. “I told them that my child was not in a good state and that he needed treatment. They never turned us down, they just kept saying ‘Yes’ – but days passed and nothing happened. I called the welfare department daily and they told me that everything was being dealt with – and then disappeared on me. I spoke to the head of the department and with the council leader, but they didn’t help me at all. After some time, I got a response from them that my son had not been recognized by the National Insurance Institute. I was shocked. I started looking for private psychologists and psychiatrists. I checked with all the HMOs, but none of them have experts in child psychology in our area.” The council’s response to these claims appears below.

Saleha Rada is also angry with the council. “I told them that my child was not in a good state and that he needed treatment. They never turned us down, they just kept saying ‘Yes’ – but days passed and nothing happened."

Nariman Ibrahim says that she also experiences many uphill struggles in her dealings with authorities as she sought to get treatment for her son. She says that, in the immediate aftermath of the attack, her family received the same one-time payment of around 40,000 shekels that the families of other injured children received. That money came from donations from Israeli citizens, she says, but most of it went to the families whose children were killed in the attack.

“After we came home from the hospital, I asked for further treatment for my son. Just a psychologist. A month passed and nothing happened. I contacted them again and another month of waiting went by without any news. I called them again and this time I was a lot more insistent. Because of that, they sent a National Insurance Institute representative to meet with us and I shouted at him. I told him that I must have a child psychologist for my son and it was only after that, that I got one. He gets paid through the NII. I am also paying more than 1,500 shekels a month for a private psychiatrist.”

It seems unlikely that Nariman’s other request – that her son be given an opportunity to make up the schoolwork he missed – would have been granted had she not raised her voice. “I asked for my son to be accepted into a certain education center, in addition to his high school, so that he could make up for what he missed while he was recuperating. After the request was approved, I was surprised to discover that it was just for one month and not for longer. If I remember correctly, after the first month we were asked to pay another 2,000 shekels a month for this service. It was only after I got angry with the council’s welfare department that the issue was resolved.”

As often happens in Israel, events moved quickly, and the Majdal Shams tragedy was soon pushed off the front pages and out of the evening news broadcasts. Within weeks, the families were left to cope with their pain and injuries on their own.

'We Tried to Do What the State Should Have Done'

Over the past few months, several aid organizations, volunteers, donors and altruistic citizens have been trying to help the families of the children wounded in Majdal Shams. One of them is Hiba Assad, a 39-year-old emotional therapist and group facilitator who lived in the town. “I have been working in the aid operations hub since the start of the war,” she says. “These people were neglected after a short period of time, so we made phone calls and ensured donations. We tried to do what the state was supposed to do.”

According to Assad, her experience working with large organizations and her familiarity with educators and the institutions they work in helped her efforts to expand the circle of assistance. She personally handled the bureaucratic paperwork for several families. An organization called Shoval helped in terms of getting everything that the families were entitled to. I met with the director general of the National Insurance Institute and we also visited the Knesset. I also met with private individuals who did not hesitate for one minute to help,” she adds. “On the other hand, there were some organizations that wanted to donate day trips and other activities immediately after the tragedy, but when we called them back, they either did not respond or claimed that the donation had gone elsewhere.”

“I have been working in the aid operations hub since the start of the war. These people were neglected after a short period of time, so we made phone calls and ensured donations. We tried to do what the state was supposed to do.”

Even the donations, which came from a place of good intentions, generated anger. Litigation is currently underway between a lawyer working on behalf of the families of the injured children and the local council, as part of an inquiry conducted by the families into the distribution of the donations received.

“Everything is documented. We have forms and proofs and you can get detailed explanations from the welfare department,” said Majdal Shams Regional Council head, Dolan Abu Saleh. He says that the assistance handed out by the council did not just cover psychological treatment, but also included subsidized activities for injured children and their parents. “Emotional support does not just mean a psychologist,” he adds. “It’s all kinds of activities – and we offer a lot of them.”

“Everything is documented. We have forms and proofs and you can get detailed explanations from the welfare department. Emotional support does not just mean a psychologist."

The council sent a long and detailed letter in response to the families’ lawyer’s requests, but that did not do much to alleviate the sense of anguish they still feel.