“Among our soldiers and our reservists there are those whose injuries cannot be seen and they carry in their hearts the scars of battle for many years.”
These were the words of Israel Defence Forces Chief of Staff Aviv Kohavi in April 2021 after IDF veteran Itzik Saidyan, then 26, had set himself alight outside a Defence Ministry rehabilitation office for injured soldiers.
Mr Saidyan had suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) after military service in the 2014 Gaza war and was in intensive care being treated for horrific burns covering his entire body. He was in a coma for five months and in a burns unit for a year before further rehabilitation.
The incident drew a shocked response from then-former Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who said: “Regrettably Saidyan is not the only one among our fighters who has such scars.”
He pledged “thorough reforms in the way we deal with disabled IDF veterans and their injuries”.
While the Defence Ministry immediately ordered an inquiry into the causes of the incident, the IDF Veterans’ Association said Mr Saidyan was frustrated over his treatment by the authorities.
He was recognised by the Defence Ministry as having a “25 per cent” disability from his post-traumatic stress disorder, but had requested 50 per cent recognition. The ministry had refused, saying part of his condition stemmed from childhood trauma, not his military service.
Saidyan, who had taken part in the 2014 seven-week military campaign known as Operation Protective Edge against Palestinian Hamas-led militias, told an unnamed friend that authorities “treated him like a swindler who is trying to cheat the country”. He had trouble adjusting to civilian life, experienced “fits of rage” and his past was full of various jobs and apartments.
“You don’t live,” he said. “I barely eat or sleep, I don’t leave home.”
Meanwhile, Arie Roth, an IDF veteran who was wounded in an operation in Gaza, told I24 news earlier this month: “Doctors found I had a heart and lung problem casued by the explosion of an explosive device.
"I recovered, got married, but PTSD was too heavy. I experienced depressions and mood disorders. As a result, I got divorced 11 years later.”
Efrat Shaprut, executive director of the Natal trauma support group, said: “Regrettably, we have seen a sharp rise in applications from released soldiers who are dealing with post-trauma due to their military service.”
In an inherently macho society that does not tolerate weakness, post-PTSD among soldiers and veterans is said to be increasing from war to war.
Suicide remains the leading cause of death among IDF soldiers, according to a report in the Israeli media earlier this year.
At least 11 soldiers were believed to have taken their own lives in 2021 and there is uncertainty over whether two others were accidental or suicide, according to Brigadier General Yoram Knafo, chief of staff of the IDF Manpower Directorate.
Another veteran affected by PSTD is Shmuel,30, from Netanya. He was totally traumatised by his army experiences and has been suffering from PTSD for the past three years. His mother Miriam, a professional dancer, is divorced and lives with her elderly, sick mother and her carer. Miriam has been tearing her hair out with worry for her son.
An introspective and sensitive young man, Shmuel lived at home at first, but then left and spent his days strolling around Tel Aviv, sofa surfing in friends’ apartments, unable to settle anywhere, unable to work.
He often loses his phone and Miriam, who can ill afford it, keeps buying him new ones. The problem is compounded by the fact that his grandmother’s carers are not keen on him living in their home, and find his presence disruptive.
Neither his father nor his brother will help. His father offers tough love: if Shmuel doesn’t want to help himself, he is no longer prepared to take care of him. Both father and son, according to Miriam, refuse to acknowledge his condition and Shmuel himself has always refused to seek outside help.
In Israel many people may not understand how deeply this illness may affect sufferers, especially if they have not experienced it themselves or have managed to deal with it successfully. What triggered PTSD in Shmuel?
All Miriam knows was that something happened to him in the Carmel. Shmuel is not alone. Army veteran Arieh, an ebullient chef in Tel Aviv, recalled serving in Lebanon during the war in 2006. He was suddenly called to the front line.
Even today he can describe in minute detail the fear, the guns, the silence, the birds. His ID tag was in his boots. He remembers the rabbi praying on the front line.
“I don’t remember what he prayed, but it was a joyful song,” says Arieh.
"When the more recent missiles struck I was so glad I was not called up for reserve duty. I was too old.”
Arieh believes some 50 per cent of the country’s veterans suffer from PTSD. That is a broad statement that is difficult to corroborate, of course.
But he adds: “The army discharges them (soldiers) without any psychological help, although there is a social service unit attached to the army for those who want to take advantage of it.”
He always knows when he has a “bad turn” coming on. “I can’t explain it exactly, but any slight noise might upset me.
Yet after Lebanon I went back, put on my chef’s hat and uniform and pushed everything out of my mind. It was more difficult, though, for my assistant. Once triggered, there’s no way he can push the memory out of his mind. This is not something he can manage. He shouts and gets excited.”
When I asked both parties whether they had personally received any help from the army, Miriam said Shmuel was too traumatised to ask and Arieh, in his typical life-and-soul-of-the-party manner, shrugged it off.
Both Arieh’s mother Dvora, retired from a career in the beauty industry, and his aunt Liora, a former English teacher who adopted Russian families in the past and now plans to assist new Ukrainian immigrants settle in Ramat-Gan, agree that the army certainly changed their former combat soldier sons.
They said that for years Israeli soldiers, even if they did not encounter combat themselves, emerged from army service totally different from their former childish, innocent selves.
That may be inevitable, but when I told Liora about Shmuel’s problems, she was shocked to learn he was 30 and had suffered PTSD for the last three years.
“I was sure he was a newly retired soldier, aged 21 or so. Just imagine how horrific this long-term situation is for
Shmuel and his family. It is a very heartbreaking and worrying situation. Your child is out there in the streets, may deteriorate to drugs, and who knows what else?”
When I told Liora I wanted to write about this situation, she pointed to the research on the subject of PTSD, including David Grossman’s book To the End of the Land.
Then she gave an ironic laugh: “I guess if you write on Israeli soldiers experiencing PTSD you may get talk back from an English reader who will write: ‘OK, so tell the f***ing Israelis to retreat from the occupied territories and give a state to the Palestinians!’”
When I last spoke to her, Miriam had thankfully found temporary accommodation for herself and Shmuel, but his PTSD has still not been treated.
She has since been given details of organisations that may offer support, and has turned to Facebook for help. She hopes she is now on the path to help her son resolve his issues.
Some names have been changed to protect personal identities