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‘There was no time to sleep’: 4 Jews reflect on a year of helping Ukrainians at war

(JTA) — In the months after Russian tanks rolled into her country last February, the music largely stopped for Elizaveta Sherstuk.

The founder of a Jewish choral ensemble called Aviv in her hometown of Sumy, in the northeastern flank of Ukraine, Sherstuk had to put singing aside in favor of her day job and personal mission: delivering aid to Jews in Sumy.

“There was no time to sleep,” Sherstuk recalled to the Jewish Telegraphic Agency recently. “All my team members worked the same, 24/7.”

A year later, Sherstuk is still hustling as the Sumy director of Hesed, a network of welfare centers serving needy Jews in the former Soviet bloc. But she has also begun teaching music classes again, too — with performances sometimes held in bomb shelters.

Catch up on all of JTA’s Ukraine war coverage from the last year here.

Sherstuk’s story reflects the ways that Russia’s war on Ukraine has affected Jews in Ukraine and beyond. The conflict has killed hundreds of thousands, left even more in peril and fundamentally altered the landscape and population of Ukraine, forcing millions to flee as refugees.

But the war has also mobilized the networks of Jewish aid and welfare groups across Europe, leading to a Jewish organizational response on a massive scale not seen in decades. And Ukrainian Jews who have remained in the country have recalibrated their lives and communities for wartime.

Here are four stories about Jews who stepped in and stepped up to help, and a taste of the on-the-ground situations they found themselves in.

‘I was needed there’

Enrique Ginzburg, second from right, is shown with Ukrainian doctors in Lviv. (Courtesy of Ginzburg)

Since nearly drowning at 23, Dr. Enrique Ginzburg has felt he “had to pay back” for the extra years of life he was granted.

Now 65, the professor of surgery at the University of Miami’s Miller School of Medicine and its trauma division has lent his critical care expertise in Haiti, Argentina, Kurdistan and Iraq, in various emergency situations. But until last year, he had never been to a war zone.

The Cuba native felt drawn to Ukraine because his grandfather is from Kyiv, while his grandmother is from nearby eastern Poland. So early on in the conflict, he called Dr. Aaron Epstein, an old friend and the founder of the nonprofit Global Surgical and Medical Supply Group.

“Get yourself a flak jacket, a helmet, a gas mask and come on over,” Ginzburg said Epstein told him.

He has been to Ukraine twice under the nonprofit’s auspices, last April and July. Ginzburg’s explanation for why he flew across the world to put himself in danger: “I was needed,” he said.

His base was an emergency hospital in Lviv, a city located west enough that it became a major refugee hub. He consulted with front-line Ukrainian physicians, many of them young and inexperienced, and hospital administrators, watching the doctors in action. He also visited patients in hospital wards and helped to treat gunshot wounds and assorted combat injuries.

Ginzburg’s bags were packed with meaningful supplies. Some had been requested by his Ukrainian colleagues for medical use, mostly specialized catheters. But he also brought tefillin, the phylacteries used by Jews in their morning prayers. Ginzburg, who studied in a yeshiva while young but no longer considers himself Orthodox, wrapped them every day while in Ukraine.

Even though Lviv was far from the fighting, he could hear air raid sirens and the explosion of the Russian missiles, sometimes feeling the earth shake. When intelligence reports warned Ginzburg’s medical team of impending missile attacks, they sought refuge in safe houses.

“Today,” he told the Miami Herald last June, “I was calling my life insurance [company] because I have young sons and my wife, so I’m trying to make sure I have good coverage.”

By the end of his trips, Ginzburg lost count of the number of doctors he helped train and the number of patients he saw. “I’m sure it’s hundreds.” He plans to make a third trip sometime this year.

‘This is our new reality’

Karina Sokolowska is the director of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee’s activities in Poland. (Courtesy of the JDC)

As the director of the JDC, or the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, in Poland, Karina Sokolowska has heard countless harrowing stories over the past year. But one sticks out in her memory.

It involved an elderly Ukrainian couple she met at the Poland-Ukraine border in late spring. The husband was in a wheelchair, and Sokolowska helped push him — back towards Ukraine. They had spent three months in a shelter in Poland but eventually “realized we cannot go looking for jobs, we cannot restart our lives. We are too old,” the woman said.

“If they are to die, they’d rather die back home,” Sokolowska said. “It’s a story of hopelessness. They are so vulnerable.”

Last year, about 8 million Ukrainian refugees made their way to Poland, the bordering country that accepted the most refugees. Early on in the conflict, Sokolowska contacted and visited Jewish communities throughout Poland, investigating the availability of places where the soon-to-be-homeless refugees could be housed. She also traveled to some of the border crossings where the Ukrainians entered, to arrange transportation to venues in Poland and to oversee the conditions in which the refugees would begin their new lives.

Later she would help with, among other things: arranging legal advice for the people who arrived with few identification documents; lining up medical care and drugs; finding them short- and long-term housing; connecting them to psychological counseling; providing kosher meals; and even caring for the refugees’ pets (“dogs and cats with no documents”).

According to JDC statistics, the organization “provided essential supplies and care” to 43,000 Jews in Ukraine and “aided 22,000+ people” there with “winter survival needs … more than double the amount served in previous years.” The welfare organization also claimed to provide “life-saving services” to more than 40,000 refugees in Poland, Moldova, Romania, Hungary, Bulgaria and other European locations. It also helped evacuate about 13,000 Jews from Ukraine. (Israeli Foreign Minister Eli Cohen recently said 15,000 Ukrainian Jews in total have immigrated to Israel since the start of the war.)

Karina Sokolowska, JDC director for Poland and Scandinavia sits in her office down the hall from a hotline room, in early March 2022. (Toby Axelrod)

At the height of the refugee flood, Sokolowska said her monthly JDC budget ballooned to more than what she previously spent in an entire year. Her office went from having a few employees to over 20. The amount of sleep she got decreased in tandem; she started taking sleeping pills to get rest when she could.

“This is our new reality” in Poland, she says of the JDC work with Ukrainian refugees. “This is our life now.”

Sokolowska, the granddaughter of Yiddish-speaking Holocaust survivors, became active in Jewish life during college, when a classmate heard her pronouncing some German words with a Yiddish accent and persuaded her to lead the Polish Union of Jewish Students. As JDC director for Scandinavian countries in addition to Poland, she typically organizes educational conferences and helps Jewish families learn about traditions they had not learned while growing up in the communist era.

Today, her sense of optimism has been ground down.

“Everything changed when war came to Ukraine — there is less hope,” Sokolowska said. “It’s a totally new everything. Every aspect of our life changed. Our hope for this to be over soon is going down, down, down. Nothing will change.”

‘It could [have been] me’

Tom and Darlynn Fellman volunteered in Krakow in October 2022. (Courtesy of Tom Fellman)

Sometime in the late 1890s, Harry Fellman, about 20 years old, left his home in Ukraine. According to family legend, he was a sharpshooter in the Ukrainian army and was about to be sent into active combat. Instead, he emigrated to the United States and settled in Omaha, Nebraska, where he became a peddler.

His grandson Tom Fellman — whose middle name is Harry — doesn’t know all the 120-year-old details, but he knows that he is grateful that Harry Fellman decided to leave Ukraine when he did.

“It could [have been] me, if my grandparents had not left when they did,” said Fellman, a successful real estate developer and philanthropist in Omaha.

In October, at 78 years old, Fellman made the reverse trip across the Atlantic to pitch in to the relief effort. He also wanted to pay what he sees as a debt to the memory of his late grandfather and to help the current generation of Ukrainian Jews.

He and his wife Darlynn served as volunteers for a week at the Krakow Jewish community center, joining hundreds (possibly thousands) of volunteers from overseas who have gone to Poland and the other nations in the region over the last year to participate in humanitarian programs on behalf of the millions of Ukrainian refugees. Fellman worked nine hours a day with a half-dozen fellow foreign volunteers in the basement of the community center, transferring the contents of “big, big” sacks of items like potatoes and sugar into small containers to be distributed to refugees in the building’s first-floor food pantry. His wife spent her time in an art therapy program that was set up for the refugee mothers and children to raise their spirits.

Fellman is “not particularly religious” but supports “anything Jewish.” In 1986, he accompanied a rescue mission plane of Soviet Jews headed to Israel. “It was the most rewarding experience of my life,” he recalled.

Fellman says he plans to return to Poland, in June, for the JCC’s annual fundraising bike ride from Auschwitz to Krakow.

What did his friends think of his septuagenarian volunteer stint? “They thought it was cool,” he said. “But none of them are going too.”

‘Everything was a risk’

Elizaveta Sherstuk runs a branch of Hesed, a network of welfare centers, in Sumy, Ukraine. (Courtesy of Sherstuk)

Sherstuk’s parents would have sent their daughter to a Jewish school in her early years if they had had the option. But Jewish education was not permitted In Sumy during the final years of communist rule in the Soviet republic. Sherstuk was exposed to Jewish life only at home.

Her parents infused her with a Jewish identity, she said, and her grandparents used to talk and sing songs in Yiddish. That inspired Sherstuk’s first career as a singer and a music teacher, during which she founded Aviv and took it on tour throughout the region singing traditional Jewish songs. Later, she became the director of Sumy’s branch of the JDC-funded Hesed network.

Sumy, an industrial city with a population of 300,000 before the war situated only 30 miles from the Russian border, was one of Russia’s first targets. In the days before the pending invasion, Sherstuk stockpiled food, which was certain to become scarce in case of war, and arranged bus transportation to safer parts of the country for hundreds of vulnerable civilians, mostly the elderly and disabled. The bus plan fell through for safety issues.

As the bombing started, it became dangerous for members of the local 1,000-member Jewish community, many of them elderly, to venture outside of their apartments. Sherstuk, working out of a bomb shelter, assisted by a Hesed network of volunteers, coordinated food and medicine deliveries.

The situation grew more dire, and she coordinated the Jewish community’s participation in a brief humanitarian corridor evacuation of vulnerable civilians that the Russians permitted. She communicated with Sumy residents mostly by smartphones provided by the JDC — the Russian attacks had cut the landlines — and accompanied the busloads of Sumy Jews to western Ukraine. Some of them eventually moved on to Israel, Germany, or other nearby countries, she said.

Sherstuk stayed in western Ukraine for a while (“The humanitarian corridors are only for one-way trips,” she noted), moving from place to place, keeping in touch with the Jews of Sumy and waiting for Ukraine’s army to make the trip back safe. But Sumy, like many Ukrainian cities, has come under frequent Russian rocket attack.

“Everything was a risk,” she said. “We were following whatever our hearts told us to do. We had to save people. I was the one who had to do it.”

Last May, Sherstuk was among 12 men and women (and the sole one from the Diaspora) who lit a torch at the start of Israel’s Independence Day in a government ceremony on Mount Herzl. During two weeks in Israel, she spent some time with members of her family, and held a series of meetings with JDC officials, government ministers and donors. “It was not a vacation,” she said.

After going back to Sumy, at the suggestions of her choral group members and fellow Sumy residents, she organized concerts in Hebrew, Yiddish, Ukrainian and Russian — some in person, some in a bomb shelter in the city’s central square, some online. She has now resumed her music classes, too, and it has all boosted morale. “I [teach] all the time,” she said.

—
The post ‘There was no time to sleep’: 4 Jews reflect on a year of helping Ukrainians at war appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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Why They Deny the Crimes of October 7

The personal belongings of festival-goers are seen at the site of an attack on the Nova Festival by Hamas terrorists from Gaza, near Israel’s border with the Gaza Strip, in southern Israel, Oct. 12, 2023. Photo: REUTERS/Ronen Zvulun

Even as they recorded their crimes in obsessive detail, the Nazis worked to deny and erase them. As the Shoah unfolded, they worked to conceal evidence: destroying documents, dismantling camps, burning bodies, and erasing traces of mass murder. Yet when the war ended and the scale of the Holocaust became undeniable, Nazis and their ideological fellow travelers did not retreat from denial. They escalated it. They sought to rewrite reality itself by denying, minimizing, relativizing, or distorting the crimes they had committed.

This eventually became a global phenomenon despite the Holocaust being one of the best-documented crimes in human history. Mountains of evidence existed: transport records, photographs, films, camp infrastructure, eyewitness and survivor testimony, perpetrator confessions, and the physical remnants of industrialized murder itself. None of it was enough for the deniers. Because Holocaust denial was never about evidence. It was about rehabilitating the perpetrators, delegitimizing Jewish suffering, and once again recasting Jews as manipulative liars, weaponizing victimhood for sympathy, power, or political gain.

Denial as Ideological Warfare

Today, something disturbingly similar is unfolding around October 7, particularly regarding the sexual crimes perpetrated by Hamas against Israeli women, men, and children.

A major new report by the Civil Commission, led by the inimitable Dr. Cochav Elkayam-Levy, presented what CNN described as “the most comprehensive body of evidence yet” documenting systematic sexual violence during and after the October 7 genocide. The report draws upon survivor testimony, released hostages, eyewitness accounts, forensic evidence, therapists, medical experts, and first responders. Its conclusion is unequivocal: Hamas and affiliated terrorists used sexual violence as a deliberate weapon of war designed to maximize pain, humiliation, and terror.

The details are beyond horrifying. Women were raped beside the bodies of murdered friends. Victims were found partially naked, mutilated, tied to trees and poles, shot in the genitals, or executed after assault. Witnesses described gang rapes at the Nova festival. Former hostages spoke of sexual abuse, forced nudity, threats of forced marriage, and prolonged sexual humiliation in captivity.

Hamas terrorists and many Palestinian perpetrators recorded their crimes in sickening detail. Murders, kidnappings, torture, humiliation, and sexual violence were filmed, photographed, celebrated, and distributed online by the perpetrators themselves. In some cases, atrocities were broadcast through the victims’ own phones and social media accounts. Unlike the Nazis, Hamas’ violence was not hidden; it was publicized and glorified.

And yet denial persists.

Almost immediately after October 7, before the bodies were even cold, social media filled with claims that reports of rape were “Israeli propaganda.” Activists and commentators insisted there was “no evidence.” Others claimed Israelis had fabricated the allegations to justify war. Some demanded impossible evidentiary standards that are almost never applied to sexual violence anywhere else on earth. Even now, as testimonies accumulate and further evidence emerges, denial remains deeply embedded within parts of activist, academic, and media culture.

That is because, like Holocaust denial, this is not about evidence. Holocaust denial emerged despite overwhelming proof because the denial itself served a purpose. It protected the moral image of the perpetrators while transforming Jews from victims into deceivers. The denier does not simply reject facts. They reject the legitimacy of Jewish suffering itself. The same mechanism is visible today.

When Jewish Suffering Becomes Inconvenient

For many people invested in a worldview in which Israel represents absolute evil and Palestinians represent absolute victimhood, acknowledging the sexual crimes of October 7 creates tension. Jewish women cannot be permitted to exist as victims because their reality complicates the narrative. Israeli suffering becomes ideologically intolerable. And so it must be doubted, obscured, minimized, or erased altogether. This is why so much October 7 denialism focuses specifically on the sexual crimes.

Sexual violence carries a specific moral weight in contemporary society. To acknowledge that Hamas terrorists and their collaborators committed widespread and systematic acts of rape, mutilation, and sexual torture would require many activists to confront a reality: that individuals and movements they have celebrated, romanticized, excused, or sanitized committed acts of extraordinary brutality.

We should also recognize the profoundly anti-Jewish nature of this phenomenon. Jews are uniquely subjected to suspicion toward their suffering in ways that have become normalized across political and cultural life. The distrust of Jewish testimony has become so deeply embedded that many people no longer even recognize it as prejudice.

The Crime Continued Through Erasure

The tragedy is not only the crimes themselves, but what their denial reveals about the world Jews inhabit. After the Holocaust, many believed humanity had learned something: that there existed a moral obligation to listen to victims, document atrocities honestly, and ensure genocidal violence could never again be erased through propaganda and denial. Yet within hours of October 7, that promise began collapsing in real time.

The lesson of Holocaust denial should have taught us that evidence alone is never enough against ideologically motivated hatred. There will never be enough footage, enough testimony, enough witnesses, enough forensic evidence, or enough reports for those who have already decided that Jewish suffering does not count.

That is the real connection between Holocaust denial and the denial of October 7. Both ultimately rest upon the same underlying premise: that Jews are uniquely unworthy of belief, uniquely suspect in their suffering, and uniquely undeserving of moral sympathy.

Ultimately, when these crimes are denied, minimized, relativized, or erased, the victims are violated a second time. The murdered are stripped not only of their lives, but of the truth of what was done to them. The raped are stripped not only of bodily autonomy, but of the dignity of having their suffering acknowledged. Denial is never neutral. It is the continuation of the crime through erasure.

That is why speaking clearly about October 7, including the systematic sexual crimes perpetrated against women and girls, matters so profoundly. We cannot bring back those who were murdered. We cannot undo the horrors inflicted upon the victims. But we can refuse to abandon them to silence, distortion, and denial. We can bear witness. We can speak plainly. And we can ensure that those who suffered are not erased by a world that too often finds Jewish suffering uniquely difficult to acknowledge.

Founder of the modern Jewish Pride movement, Ben M. Freeman is the author of Jewish Pride: Rebuilding a People (2021), Reclaiming our Story: The Pursuit of Jewish Pride (2022) and The Jews: An Indigenous People (2025). Educating, inspiring and empowering, his work focuses on Jewish identity and historical and contemporary Jew-hatred. A Holocaust scholar for over fifteen years, Ben came to prominence during the Corbyn Labour Jew-hate crisis in the UK and quickly became one of his generation’s leading Jewish thinkers and voices against Jew-hate. The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.

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Remembering Abe Foxman: My Time with a Hero of the Jewish People

ADL National Director Emeritus Abe Foxman. Photo: ADL

Hearing the news that Abe Foxman died last Sunday at the age of 86 triggered a slew of memories about the man now being memorialized as “one of the last great architects of postwar American Jewish public life.”

Historians will surely write books studying Abe and his half-century legacy of fighting antisemitism, including 27 years as national director of the Anti-Defamation League (ADL).

But as Foxman was being eulogized by Jewish and non-Jewish leaders around the world, I recalled the amazing experiences I had with him, as I witnessed his quixotic quest to eliminate the infectious plague of antisemitism from the planet.

I come to this exercise with a unique lens; I may be the only newspaper reporter who both covered Abe, and then later went to work for him as ADL’s Director of Interfaith Affairs.

That history afforded me the opportunity to interact with Abe as both an outsider and an insider.

I experienced the little human asides — the famous hugs, as a reporter being called “tattele,” Yiddish for “good boy” which was somewhat cringeworthy for a journalist, and that time during a black-tie fundraiser in West Palm Beach where he came up to me and whispered, “get me out of here.” (I was never quite sure whether he was joking or not.)

So here I share some highlights of my time with the man that many remember so fondly.

As a young Holocaust survivor from Poland who was rescued, raised, and baptized by his Catholic nanny, Abe fully understood the importance of positive interfaith relations for the long-term health and welfare of the Jewish people.

As a reporter covering religion and interfaith issues, he called me one day and asked if I wanted to go to Rome and meet the Polish Pope, John Paul II. I was sure he was joking. The next thing I knew, I was sitting with him in a large conference room in the Vatican with a small contingent of ADL officials and the Pope. It was clear from their honest, direct, and warm exchange that these two sons of Poland held each other with great respect.

Several years later, as ADL’s interfaith director, Abe called me into his office after hearing that the Pope had selected Timothy Michael Dolan, the Archbishop of Milwaukee, to be the next Archbishop in New York City.

Abe’s directive was clear: “Find out when he’s coming to New York and make sure we are the first organization to meet with him.” Several frantic phone calls later, I arranged for Dolan to meet with us in Abe’s office a couple of days after he arrived in Manhattan. Dolan was immediately taken by Abe’s charm and thoughtful gift. It was the start of a long and deep friendship for us, that despite various controversies, held fast over the years.

But when it came to defending Jews and their dignity, Abe the charmer became Abe the bulldog. Late one afternoon in February 2012, he summoned me to his office.

He was clearly upset. It was revealed that the names of Nobel Laureate and Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel and his late father had been found in the genealogical database of the Mormon Church, now known as the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, making them available for posthumous baptism. Abe told me he was immediately calling one of the highest officials at church headquarters in Salt Lake City and demanding they remove the names, apologize, and stop baptizing Holocaust victims. Abe had his direct number. The Church Elder picked up the phone and attempted to explain the situation in bureaucratic terminology. But Abe wasn’t having it, holding fast to his demand. Within a few days, the church apologized stating this was not their policy. Abe tasked me to work with their interfaith director to monitor the situation and make sure they kept their word.

Abe also dedicated himself to defending others — embodying ADL’s mission statement “to stop the defamation of the Jewish people and secure justice and fair treatment for all.” When it became clear that local elected officials around the country were blocking Muslim communities from building or expanding their mosques by using questionable legal loopholes, Abe quickly approved my proposal to create an interfaith task force, ICOM, to support the rights of Muslim Americans to build their houses of worship. In addition, ADL’s civil rights division would file amicus briefs on behalf of the Muslim communities.

When it came to responding to haters of Jews and Israel, Abe generally criticized them with equal force, no matter the political party or the prominence of the person. In this age of polarization, this perhaps is the most important lesson to recall.

At his funeral at the ornate Park Avenue synagogue in Manhattan on Tuesday, more than 500 family, friends, current and former ADL officials, and New York and national Jewish leaders gathered to say goodbye to Foxman.

The funeral included video eulogies by Israeli President Issac Herzog, and Ambassador Susan E. Rice, who served as President Barack Obama’s National Security Advisor, who said she loved Foxman, and that he always had her back. Sara J. Bloomfield, the longtime director of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., consistently referred to Foxman as “a giant.” New York Times Columnist Tom Friedman, who first met Abe in summer camp when he was a teenager and Foxman was his camp leader, called him a “modern Maccabee.”

Foxman was also remembered as “a man of gravitas and humor” and as a “person of consequence” — respected and listened to by presidents, prime ministers, and popes.

He especially was remembered as a man who put family above everything, as testified by his two children and four grandchildren, who provided many touching details of his love and devotion to each one of them, being in touch every day with a call or an email, and ending his messages with “LOL” — which despite their corrections, Foxman insisted meant “lots of love.”

His daughter Michelle even located her father’s 1958 high school yearbook from Yeshivah of Flatbush High School in Brooklyn. Standing on the bimah or platform in front of the synagogue pews, she read his moving essay about the importance of the State of Israel to the Jewish people after the Holocaust, and his “secret mission” — conceived as an 18-year-old — to spend his life defending it.

Park Avenue Senior Rabbi Elliot Cosgrove, who led the service, stated that with Foxman’s passing, it was now the obligation of the leaders in the room, and future generations, to continue the fight against exploding violent antisemitism and anti-Israelism, and the protection of American democracy.

Rabbi Eric J. Greenberg is ADL’s former national Director of Interfaith Affairs and Outreach, and a national award-winning journalist.

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The Media Keeps Treating Terrorists as Civilians — Here’s the Proof

Palestinians pass by the gate of an UNRWA-run school in Nablus Photo: Reuters/Abed Omar Qusini.

Since October 7, 2023, the media has worked tirelessly to accuse Israel of deliberately targeting civilians.

Yet despite Israel’s extensive efforts to minimize civilian harm, the terrorist organizations it is fighting have systematically worked to ensure the opposite outcome.

Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and Hezbollah have embedded themselves deeply within civilian society, inflating casualty figures while obscuring the military identities of many of those killed.

In both Gaza and Lebanon, this strategy has produced what researchers describe as a “resistance society” — a system in which operatives simultaneously hold civilian professions that provide both legitimacy and operational cover.

Journalism is among the most visible examples.

In Gaza alone, more than 100 terrorists operating under the cover of journalism have reportedly been killed by the IDF since October 7. Meanwhile, Hezbollah-affiliated media figures in Lebanon are routinely portrayed by international outlets as innocent civilians or independent reporters.

But the evidence does not come solely from Israel.

Again and again, Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and Hezbollah themselves publish martyrdom posters identifying deceased operatives not only by their military affiliations, but also by their civilian professions.

The pattern is striking: terrorists simultaneously serving as doctors, teachers, paramedics, police officers, lawyers, musicians, and journalists.

Hospitals as Operational Cover

International media coverage has consistently framed Israeli military operations near hospitals as attacks on civilian medical infrastructure. But Hamas and Islamic Jihad have repeatedly embedded operatives inside those facilities, stripping them of protected civilian status under the laws of armed conflict.

Hospitals in Gaza have allegedly functioned not only as treatment centers, but also as operational hubs, weapons storage sites, and cover for terrorist activity. Many individuals publicly described as “medical workers” were later identified by terror organizations themselves as operatives.

One prominent example is Marwan Al-Hams, identified as a Hamas operative who was detained in July 2025 over suspected knowledge regarding the whereabouts of fallen IDF officer Lt. Hadar Goldin.

Palestinian and pro-Palestinian media initially portrayed his detention as the “abduction” of a medical professional — coverage that largely disappeared once his Hamas affiliation became public.

Other documented cases include:

  • Ayman Abu Teir, identified as an Islamic Jihad commander.
  • Khaled Al-Rakiei, who led the Islamic Jihad in the western Gaza Strip while working as a doctor in Al-Nasr Children’s Hospital.
  • Murshid Abu Abdullah, identified as a commander in Islamic Jihad’s Khan Younis Brigade and the managing director of the al-Baraka Specialized Health Center, as well as a radiology technician at al-Shifa Hospital in Gaza City.
  • Rami Talal Mohammed Jarghoun, a commander in Islamic Jihad’s al-Balad Battalion’s Support Unit within the Khan Younis Brigade and an administrative supervisor at the European Hospital in Khan Younis.
  • Najm Abu al-Jibeen, a Qassam commander who worked as a nurse.
  • Salem Juma Ishaq Sharab, a commander in Islamic Jihad’s Military Ambulance Unit in the Khan Younis Brigade, a nurse at Nasser Hospital, and treasurer of the Palestinian Nursing Association.
  • Diaa Nafez Abdulhadi Felfel, a commander in Islamic Jihad’s Military Ambulance Unit in its Northern Brigade, and a nurse and the emergency room supervisor for the Indonesian Hospital in north Gaza.

Ambulances and Emergency Services

The same pattern extends to paramedics and emergency medical services.

Hezbollah operates its own medical infrastructure through the Islamic Health Authority, whose personnel have been identified as Hezbollah operatives.

Evidence has suggested that the ambulances are used to transport terrorists between locations discreetly. The IDF has additionally released videos displaying weapons in ambulances.

Hamas has similarly exploited ambulances. Ibrahim Abu Tzakar, a Hamas-affiliated terrorist who participated in the kidnapping of an Israeli civilian, also worked as a paramedic.

The Classroom-to-Terror Pipeline

While Israel has been accused of “scholasticide,” mounting evidence points to extensive terrorist entrenchment within Gaza’s educational infrastructure.

Teachers and professors have repeatedly been identified as Hamas, Islamic Jihad, or Hezbollah operatives. Some UNRWA-affiliated teachers were allegedly involved in the October 7 attacks themselves.

Among the documented examples:

  • Muhammad Ghafour, an Arabic teacher in an UNRWA school and a Hamas member.
  • Fathi al-Sharif, a Hamas commander in Lebanon who also headed UNRWA’s teachers’ union there.
  • Dr. Riyad Abu Hashish, a university history professor, and Mahmoud Ahmed Abu Shamala, a physics teacher, were senior Islamic Jihad terrorists.
  • Ali Jaafar Marji, a Hezbollah operative, also worked as a​ physics teacher in Hezbollah’s independent education system.

The consequences extend beyond staffing.

Children as young as 13 have reportedly appeared in the ranks of Hamas and Islamic Jihad, underscoring the extent to which extremist ideology has permeated educational and social systems.

Hamas and Gaza’s Security Apparatus

Hamas’ integration into civilian institutions extends deeply into Gaza’s police and internal security infrastructure.

The terror group has reportedly sought to incorporate 10,000 police officers into a future governing framework in Gaza despite many officers maintaining affiliations with Hamas or other terror factions.

This overlap helps explain why Israel has repeatedly targeted police infrastructure during the war.

Cases cited include:

Terror Embedded Across Civil Society

The phenomenon is not confined to healthcare, education, or policing.

Terror organizations also benefit from embedding operatives in professions that carry social legitimacy or cultural influence.

Examples include:

These dual identities help terrorist organizations blur the line between civilian and combatant while strengthening their entrenchment inside society.

When terrorist organizations systematically embed themselves within civilian infrastructure, that fact is not incidental — it is central to understanding the conflict.

Much of the evidence documenting these affiliations comes directly from Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and Hezbollah themselves. Their own martyrdom announcements repeatedly reveal that many individuals later described internationally as “civilians” were active members of terror organizations leading double lives inside civilian society.

The question is whether international media outlets are willing to acknowledge the pattern — or whether they will continue reporting only half the story.

The author is a contributor to HonestReporting, a Jerusalem-based media watchdog with a focus on antisemitism and anti-Israel bias — where a version of this article first appeared.

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