Israel's mental health crisis in the wake of Oct. 7 attacks

ISRAEL, 5 OCTOBER 2026 —

Israel’s Mental Health Crisis Deepens Three Years After October 7: 3 Million Citizens Struggle as System Collapses Under Trauma

With only a 1% increase in mental health treatment uptake since the attacks, the Israeli healthcare system is failing to meet the crisis, leaving hundreds of thousands in limbo as waiting times stretch beyond six months, and suicide rates among reservists surge to unprecedented levels.

The human toll is staggering. Ronen Shalev, whose wife Gavriela died by suicide two years after the attacks—leaving behind a goodbye note in a burned car—has since watched his son Roee, a survivor of the massacre, spiral into untreated trauma. Roee, who witnessed his partner Mapal Adam killed in front of him, wrote in a final Instagram post in 2025: “I’m alive, but I’m dead within.

I’m sorry.” His death underscores a broader collapse: while Israel’s mental health budget rose post-October 7, the system remains underfunded, understaffed, and ill-equipped to handle the fallout of war, displacement, and collective grief.

A System on the Brink The State Comptroller’s report reveals a stark disconnect between need and response. Of Israel’s 8 million citizens, 39%—or 3 million people—now suffer from moderate to severe mental health symptoms, with 600,000 in critical condition. Yet, only 60,000 additional patients have accessed treatment since October 2023, a rise of just 1%.

The backlog is severe: waiting times for public mental health services exceed six months, with some patients facing delays of over a year, according to Noga Dagan-Buzaglo, a researcher at the Adva Center, which studies societal inequality in Israel.

The crisis extends beyond civilians. Combat reservists, who have borne the brunt of Israel’s Gaza war, are dying by suicide at alarming rates. Official IDF and parliamentary data show 11 confirmed suicides in 2024—up from a historical average of one per year—and nine suspected cases in 2025, excluding veterans who took their lives after service.

Dagan-Buzaglo warns that even military mental health programs, which offer better pay and conditions than civilian services, remain chronically understaffed, leaving soldiers with inadequate care.

Therapists in Crisis, Patients Left Behind The strain on Israel’s mental health workforce is unsustainable. A University of Haifa study found that 84% of therapists treating October 7 survivors exhibit their own traumatic symptoms, while 45% report severe mental exhaustion. The public sector’s inability to retain staff—due to lower wages than private clinics and overwhelming caseloads—has forced non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and volunteers to fill gaps, often at their own peril.

The Ministry of Health has acknowledged the rise in prescriptions for sedatives, sleep aids, and antidepressants, with increases ranging from 13% to 17% since 2023. Yet, the poorest Israelis—those who cannot afford private therapy—are left with no viable alternatives. Dagan-Buzaglo calls the public system’s response “simply bad,” noting that peripheral regions in the far north and south, where displacement and trauma are most acute, suffer the worst shortages.

The Human Cost: Families in Freefall Shalev’s story is far from unique. His daughter Lior survived the Nova Party massacre but now lives with untreated PTSD. His son Roee, despite initial resistance to therapy, eventually sought help—but only after his mother’s death. “He thought he was strong,” Shalev recalls. “That’s the most dangerous mindset.”

Shalev, now a public speaker on mental health, has made it his mission to break Israel’s lingering stigma around suicide. “The taboo is killing people,” he says. “Especially those who say they’re fine. They’re the ones who don’t ask for help—and they’re the ones who disappear.” His own diagnosis of PTSD has driven him to advocate for early intervention, urging others to “choose life, even with all its pain.”

Regional and Global Implications Israel’s mental health crisis carries broader consequences. The displacement of hundreds of thousands from southern and northern communities—many still living in temporary housing—has exacerbated psychological distress. Meanwhile, the prolonged war in Gaza, with its devastating civilian toll, risks deepening intergenerational trauma on both sides of the conflict.

For Malaysia and Southeast Asia, where mental health services are also strained, Israel’s failures offer a cautionary tale. The World Health Organization (WHO) has repeatedly warned that low- and middle-income countries face similar breakdowns in crisis response, particularly in conflict zones. Israel’s experience highlights the critical need for long-term funding, workforce training, and destigmatization campaigns—lessons that resonate in regions grappling with their own post-conflict and pandemic-era mental health epidemics.

No End in Sight As Israel approaches the third anniversary of October 7, the government has pledged further investments in mental health. Yet, Dagan-Buzaglo stresses that money alone won’t suffice. “Trauma doesn’t end after a year,” she says. “We need sustained funding, better training for therapists, and a cultural shift—one where asking for help isn’t seen as weakness.”

For families like Shalev’s, the fight for recovery is daily. “We have many graves to visit,” he says. “Many families to meet. The body remembers. And so does the soul.” The question now is whether Israel’s system will remember too—or if more will be lost before help arrives.

Related: Ministry of Health · Ronen Shalev · Israel