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As Qatar Emir Visits Canada, Just What is Doha Up To?
By HENRY SREBRNIK (Sept. 19/24) Qatar…home of Hamas leaders, Al-Jazeera, host of soccer’s 2022 World Cup, and wealth beyond measure. And everyone’s favourite centre for “negotiations” to end the war Hamas unleashed on Israel a year ago. It’s become everyone’s go-to country, a veritable “light unto the nations.”
However, as the 1946 song “Put the Blame on Mame” has it, in a different context, of course, “That’s the story that went around, but here’s the real lowdown” … about this duplicitous Persian Gulf emirate.
Even before the Gaza war began, there was an upswing of commentary celebrating a shift in the policies and behavior of Qatar: away from promoting and subsidizing radical Islamist groups, and towards “deconfliction” and moderation.
Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani, the country’s emir, has been basking in the glow of international approval, depicting the country as a global influencer and peacemaker. The Qataris want to make themselves indispensable.
It plays into Doha’s ongoing attempts to create an illusion of rebranding as a moderating actor in the Middle East and beyond, pushed by various propagandists in the West on Qatar’s payroll, including more than a few American university centres and departments awash in Qatari money.
The emir and other officials spent two days in Canada Sept. 17-19, meeting with Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and cabinet ministers. The Gaza war was on the agenda, of course. Indeed, Jewish-Canadian leaders urged Trudeau to criticize him over his patronage of Hamas. But being able to tap into Qatar’s wealth via business and trade was more likely on Trudeau’s mind.
Qatar has one of the highest per capita incomes in the world, at $110,000 a year. And while its total population is some 2.7 million, most of these are guest workers, including European lawyers and consultants at the top of the scale, and at the bottom South Asian labourers. Only some 313,000 are native Qataris, the ones who benefit from the riches it derives from the sale of oil and gas.
The Peninsula, an English language daily newspaper published in Doha, ran an article on the occasion of the emir’s visit by noting the expanding trade and investment cooperation between Canada and Qatar, especially with the signing of a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) in June between the Qatar Financial Center and the Canada Arab Business Council, a non-profit organization that aims to enhance trade and investment relations between Canada and the Arab world.
The MoU “aims to establish an integrated framework for cooperation and coordination in specific sectors through joint initiatives and the exchange of information and expertise, with a focus on stimulating growth and promoting innovation in areas such as financial services and professional business services.” Ahmed Hussen, Minister of International Development participated in a signing ceremony with Lolwah bint Rashid Al-Khater, Qatar’s Minister of State for International Cooperation.
More than 9,000 Canadian expatriates live in Qatar, working in Canadian and Qatari companies and institutions. From January to July, Canada exported goods valued at $103.45 million to Qatar, while Qatar’s exports to Canada amounted to $90.27 million.
There is also a partnership in academic programs, as the University of Calgary has been in Doha since 2006, offering a Bachelor of Nursing program, along with the College of the North Atlantic, which transformed into the University of Doha for Science and Technology. Furthermore, there are several Doha-based schools that offer Canadian curricula.
In their meeting, Sheikh Tamim expressed his aspiration to work with Trudeau to advance their bilateral cooperation across multiple sectors in order to “contribute to enhancing regional and global peace and stability.” Bilateral relations between the two countries were discussed, especially in the fields of investment, economy and international cooperation, “in addition to developments and situations in the Gaza Strip and the occupied Palestinian territories.”
Qatar has been very successful in its efforts to shape public opinion in Canada, as well as in the far more important United States. The amount of money that Qatar has poured into universities, schools, educational organizations, think tanks, and media across America, and the number of initiatives that Qatar uses to influence American opinion, is overwhelming.
According to a 2022 study from the National Association of Scholars, Qatar is the largest foreign donor to American universities. It found that between 2001 and 2021, the petrostate donated a whopping $4.7 billion to U.S. colleges. The largest recipients are some of America’s most prestigious institutions of higher learning. They include Carnegie Mellon University, Ivy League Cornell University, Georgetown University in Washington, Virginia Commonwealth University, and Texas A & M. These schools have partnered with the regime to build campuses in Doha’s “education city,” a special district of the capital that hosts satellite colleges for American universities. (Texas A&M decided earlier this year to shutter its branch campus in Qatar.)
Georgetown University in Qatar, for instance, was hosting the “Reimagining Palestine” conference Sept. 20-22. The event engages scholars, experts, and the public “in timely and relevant dialogues on globally significant issues,” according to a description of the gathering. One of the speakers, Wadah Khanfar, “was active in the Hamas movement and was one of its most prominent leaders in the movement’s office in Sudan,” the Raya Media Network, a Palestinian outlet, tells us. In the months following Oct. 7, the campus has hosted a variety of seemingly anti-Israel events.
Since 2008, Qatar has donated nearly $602 million to Northwestern University, whose journalism school is ranked as one of the best in the world, to establish a school of journalism in Qatar. The Northwestern University campus in Qatar and Qatari broadcaster Al-Jazeera in 2013 signed a Memorandum of Understanding to “further facilitate collaboration and knowledge transfer between two of Qatar’s foremost media organizations.” Are Northwestern’s interests really aligned with Qatar?
Qatari state-financed entities also often fund individual scholars or programs in the United States without official disclosure or being directly traceable to a government source, thus avoiding public scrutiny. For example, Ivy League Yale University disclosed only $284,668 in funding from Qatar between 2010 and 2022. Researchers at the Institute for the Study of Global Antisemitism and Policy (ISGAP) in a report released in June, though, found that this amount reflected only a small fraction of the money and services the university and its scholars had in fact received over that period. The most common channel for hard-to-track Qatari support for Yale came from individual research grants originating from the Qatar National Research Fund, and their report found 11 Yale-linked QNRF grants which came to at least $15,925,711.
Recent research from the Network Contagion Research Institute indicated that at least 200 American universities illegally withheld information about approximately $13 billion in Qatari contributions. Also, according to the report, from 2015 to 2020 institutions that accepted money from Middle Eastern donors had on average, 300 percent more antisemitic incidents than those institutions that did not.
Overall, the report found that “a massive influx of foreign, concealed donations to American institutions of higher learning, much of it from authoritarian regimes with notable support from Middle Eastern sources, reflects or supports heightened levels of intolerance towards Jews, open inquiry and free expression.”
Much of Doha’s engagement with the world is run out of the Qatar Meeting, Incentive, Conference and Exhibition (MICE) Development Institute (QMDI), which promotes Qatar as a good place for business. The annual Doha Forum gathers major policymakers from around the world.
Qatar’s influence-buying strategies are a textbook example of how to transform cash into “soft” power. The relationship between one of Washington, D.C.’s top think tanks and Qatar, for example, began in 2002, when the emirate underwrote a Doha conference featuring then Qatari Foreign Minister Hamad bin Jassem Al Thani and former U.S. Ambassador to Israel Martin Indyk, at the time the director of the Saban Center for Middle East Policy at Brookings. (Hamad oversaw Qatar’s $230 billion sovereign wealth fund until 2013.) In 2007, Brookings followed up by opening a centre on Doha. It didn’t end well. In 2021 the institute ended its relationship with Qatar amidst an ongoing FBI investigation.
Still, Washington treads carefully when it comes to criticizing Qatar. It’s not just about money. After all, the Al-Udaid Air Base is home to the U.S. military’s Central Command (CENTCOM), and the country is just across the Persian Gulf from Iran. In fact, Washington’s relationship with Qatar is so close that in 2022 the White House officially designated the emirate a “major non-NATO ally.” The Qataris, realizing that their very existence would be threatened were the U.S. to relocate its CENTCOM operations to the UAE or Saudi Arabia, in January hastened to nail down the agreement for another decade.
Yoni Ben-Menachem, a senior researcher at the Jerusalem Center for Security and Foreign Affairs, told the Jewish News Service (JNS) that the Gulf country is more dangerous than Hamas or Hezbollah since it is extraordinarily wealthy and thus in a position to influence U.S. administrations.
Qatar has for many years been involved in financing the campaigns of the Democratic Party, he claimed, “especially Hillary Clinton’s campaign” in 2016. He added that former U.S. President Bill Clinton is known to have flown to Qatar to bring back suitcases full of cash.
According to Jonathan Ruhe, director of foreign policy at the Jewish Institute for National Security of America (JINSA), Qatar has portrayed itself as “indispensable to U.S. interests in the Middle East, including negotiations with the Taliban, reconstruction aid for past Gaza conflicts, and building the massive Al-Udeid base for U.S. forces.”
Yet although it hosts the Pentagon’s regional command, Qatar has long supported terrorism. For decades, it has opened its doors to Islamist terrorists, Taliban warlords and African insurgents. Doha housed the Taliban’s political office before that group returned to power in Afghanistan in 2021.
Beginning in 2012, the Israeli government allowed Qatar to deliver cash to Gaza. Over the next nine years, Qatar provided $1.5 billion. Prior to the outbreak of the present conflict, Doha subsidized Hamas to the tune of $360 million to $480 million a year. With one third of that money, Qatar bought Egyptian fuel that Cairo then shipped into Gaza, where Hamas sold it and pocketed its revenue. Another third went to impoverished Gazan families, while the last third paid the salaries of the Hamas bureaucracy.
The leaders of Hamas, including Khaled Mashaal and the late Ismail Haniyeh, who was chairman of the Hamas Political Bureau until assassinated by Israel in July, have been regular guests in Doha, living in luxury. (The emir sat in the front row with mourners during Haniyeh’s funeral in Doha.) Qatar has defended Hamas’s presence in the country.
“This was started to be used as a way of communicating and bringing peace and calm into the region, not to instigate any war,” Prime Minister Mohammed bin Abdulrahman Al Thani told U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken last October. “And this is the purpose of that office.” Blinken seemed to buy this. At a press conference in Doha in February, he asserted that “we’re very fortunate to have Qatar as a partner.”
As far back as 2007, when Hamas seized control of Gaza, Qatar recognized that “adopting” the group would be a worthwhile opportunity: connections with Hamas in Gaza grants Qatar influence and status in the Middle East and beyond. In addition, they bolster the popular Arab perception of Doha as working for the Palestinian cause. In 2012, the emir became the first head of state to visit Gaza, pledging $400 million to Hamas. At the same time, the Qataris became the exclusive mediators between Israel and Hamas.
The U.S. has accused the Qataris of harboring members of Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corp (IRGC). But at the same time the Qataris are an important intermediary between America and Iran. Doha has enjoyed good relations with the Biden administration, which it helped in the American hasty withdrawal from Afghanistan three years ago.
While organized as a private company, the Al-Jazeera television network is the voice of Qatar’s regime. Founded in 1996 and financed by the then-emir of Qatar, it has described terrorist attacks that killed Israeli non-combatants as martyrdom operations and even posted articles describing Israel as “the Zionist entity.” For years, Al-Jazeera aired all of Osama bin Laden’s speeches. The late Muslim Brotherhood spiritual leader Yusuf Al-Qaradawi was based in Doha and for years hosted a prime-time program on the network. The war on Israel was declared on Al-Jazeera by Hamas military commander Muhammad Deif last October 7. Its operations in Israel were finally terminated by Jerusalem in May.
Qatar has been using the immense wealth it has accumulated to turn Al-Jazeera into an international media conglomerate, spreading Muslim Brotherhood propaganda, Hamas’ original sponsor, on a global scale. The Muslim Brotherhood was founded in Egypt in 1928 by the cleric Hassan al-Banna as a reaction to his perception that the Muslim world had become week in relation to the West. The royal family of Qatar has since been using the Muslim Brotherhood to minimize political opposition against them. In exchange for allowing the Brotherhood to use the country as a base for its international operations, the Brotherhood makes sure that there is no political threat based on organized religion against the Qatari monarchy.
A major shock to Qatar’s economy occurred when some Gulf Cooperation Council members — Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates — imposed an embargo on Qatar from 2017 to 2021. The reason for the embargo was Qatar’s support for the Brotherhood.
Qatar owns other news media that are equally awful. The London-based daily newspaper Al-Quds Al-Arabi in June published an article entitled “War Criminal Blinken Wages Diplomatic Campaign to Eliminate Palestinian Resistance and Buy Time for Israeli War in Gaza.”
Qatar is not a neutral agent, despite its attempts to portray itself as such. Time and again, it has supported the region’s most radical nations and paramilitaries, all to the detriment of American and Western interests. Its malign influence activities the United States reflect the broader issue of foreign manipulation in America’s political landscape.
“Qatar has been playing a dual role since the beginning of the Gaza war. On the one hand, it is a well-known supporter of Hamas, and even finances it with a lot of money, and on the other hand, it is trying to help in the deal for the release of the Israeli hostages,” remarked Dr. Udi Levy, a former senior official of Israel’s Mossad spy agency in April. But the U.S. relationship with Qatar will continue as long as the American government finds it useful in the on-again off-again negotiations to have Hamas release the remaining Israeli hostages.
Henry Srebrnik is a professor of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island.
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Non-Jews Must Stand Up to Indifference: Antisemitism in Modern Europe
Protesters hold up placards against British Prime Minister Keir Starmer during his visit to Golders Green, northwest London, following a terror attack on April 29, 2026, in which two men were stabbed, in London, Britain, April 30, 2026. Photo: Stefan Rousseau/Pool via REUTERS
Fears and anxieties are running high among British Jews, and among Jews across Europe more broadly. There is only so long that a community can project strength and resilience while its members are being stabbed in broad daylight, and while vile antisemitic graffiti stains the walls of cities like Berlin.
At some point, the question must be asked: how much can a society tolerate before its silence becomes complicity?
This is not a theoretical concern — it is already visible in policies, media coverage, and public debate.
What is perhaps most disturbing is not only the rise in antisemitic incidents, now at record highs in many parts of Europe, but the muted response to them. Similar hatred towards other minorities would provoke outrage and sustained debate.
Yet when Jews are targeted, reactions are often subdued and short-lived. Coverage exists, but in everyday conversations and workplaces, the urgency is largely absent.
Living in Germany, I have found that antisemitism is rarely a topic of concern among non-Jews. It does not seem to stir deep emotional reactions or sustained attention. It exists, but almost in the background. This indifference is not neutral. It is part of the problem.
Many Europeans today do not personally know a single Jewish person. Their understanding of Jews is often filtered through biased media narratives.
There is a vague awareness of a connection between Jews and Israel, but little real understanding. Seen mainly through conflict and accusations, Israel often becomes a reason for disengagement. Even when Jewish co-workers may exist, their identity may remain hidden. I was reminded of this when my son told me about a Jewish boy on his football team who was mocked by teammates when they heard that one of his parents is Jewish. I encouraged my son, as captain, to confront such behavior immediately.
When I share such incidents with non-Jewish friends, they are often genuinely shocked and condemn it, unable to believe such things still happen in Germany today. For a moment, this is reassuring. Yet the concern rarely lasts as people move on with their lives.
But antisemitism is never just a “Jewish problem.” It is a societal one.
History has shown, time and again, that what begins with Jews does not end with them. Antisemitism is not an isolated prejudice; it is often a symptom of broader ideological movements that seek control and dominance. Whether in the forced religious expansions of the medieval period, the racial ideology of Nazi Germany, or modern Jihadist movements that weaponize religion, the pattern is clear: once a society tolerates the dehumanization of one group, it opens the door to the erosion of freedom for all.
This is why today’s indifference is so dangerous. It reflects not only a failure to protect Jews, but an unwillingness to confront the deeper threats.
There is yet another dimension to the issue of antisemitism that is often overlooked: the position of non-Jewish allies.
Across Europe and beyond, there are Christians, Hindus, Muslims, and other righteous individuals who stand up against antisemitism and support Israel, often at significant personal cost.
They lose friendships, face tensions within their families, and encounter hostility in their workplaces. Unlike Jewish communities, which are bound by a strong sense of shared identity and belonging in Am Israel, these allies often stand alone. They do not always have a community to turn to.
This raises an uncomfortable but necessary question: what happens to these individuals if antisemitic rhetoric continues to escalate into physical violence? Jews, despite the immense challenges, have Israel — a homeland that represents refuge and continuity. For Diaspora Jews, aliyah remains an option, however challenging it may be.
But what about those who stand with them, who have tied their moral convictions to the fight against antisemitism? Who protects them?
They may well be the next in line — not because of who they are, but because of what they represent: resistance to hatred, commitment to truth, and refusal to conform to dominant narratives.
This is the hallmark of an unhealthy society — not only the presence of hatred, but the isolation of those who oppose it.
There is a broader irony: many who champion progressive values like anti-oppression, anti-colonialism, and human rights, fail to see how their silence or selective outrage contributes to the problem. In overlooking antisemitism, they undermine the very principles they claim to uphold.
The solution is neither simple nor immediate. But it begins with something fundamental: speaking.
We must continue to talk about antisemitism. We must do it consistently and persistently. There is a lesson in the propaganda strategies of the past: repetition shapes perception. Just as the Nazi propagandist Joseph Goebbels demonstrated how repetition can amplify lies, it can also strengthen truth.
Silence allows distortion to take root. Speaking up on the other hand, creates the possibility of change. There is still hope that people will listen. Because the cost of silence is not only borne by Jews. It is borne by society as a whole.
Paushali Lass is an Indian-German intercultural and geopolitical consultant, who focuses on building bridges between Israel, India, and Germany.
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I Confronted the Palestinian Authority: I Saw a Culture of Fear and Discrimination Against Christians
Palestinian Olympic Committee President Jibril Rajoub, who is also the secretary-general of Fatah’s Central Committee, holds a news conference to update the media about challenges facing Palestinian sports ahead of the Olympics in Paris, in Ramallah, in the West Bank, June 12, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Ammar Awad
“Excuse me. This is not true. This is not true. Excuse me … I never supported killing civilians or kidnapping kids and women. Never! Even in the past. Okay?” shouted Palestinian leader Jibril Rajoub during an interview that I independently conducted with him at his office in Ramallah last summer.
The secretary-general of Fatah’s Central Committee, Rajoub is one of the most powerful figures in the Palestinian Authority (PA) and is widely regarded as a potential successor to President Mahmoud Abbas. Previously sentenced to life imprisonment for lobbing a grenade at an Israeli army bus, Rajoub later became infamous for torturing political dissidents during his stint as the head of the West Bank’s Preventive Security Force from 1994 to 2002.
As a 19-year-old American student living and working in the largely Palestinian Christian town of Beit Sahour, landing the interview was surprisingly easy.
After confirming a time with Rajoub’s assistant, I hopped into an orange minivan (a common form of public transportation in the West Bank), and headed to Ramallah from Bethlehem. During the ride, I asked my driver — who knew that I was scheduled to meet a Palestinian politician — what his main grievances with the PA were. He replied, “They don’t do anything for us.”
I told him that I’d bring this criticism up. He immediately blurted out, “No, don’t do that!”
At the behest of Rajoub’s assistant, I arrived at the entrance of a corporate office building in an upscale Ramallah neighborhood. Moments later, Rajoub’s assistant appeared, and I was led to a different building. Upon entering this other building, which I did not know, I was greeted by a gigantic mural of former Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) Chairman Yasser Arafat.
While waiting for Rajoub, who was half an hour late to the interview, I chatted with Fatah-affiliated staff members, who explained that the building was the meeting ground for members of the Fatah Central Committee.
As I asked Rajoub various questions — such as, “What do you think is the most legitimate criticism directed toward the PA today?” — I came to realize that he was a master at evading accountability.
Throughout the interview, Rajoub became increasingly fed up with me, often uttering phrases such as “listen” and “excuse me.” But it was when I attempted to ask Rajoub about his comments following Hamas’ terrorist actions on October 7, 2023 (which he ridiculously blamed Israel for) that he cut me off and started yelling. After I became visibly intimidated, Rajoub had the nerve to tell me, “I’m more democratic than you expect.”
As I left Rajoub’s oversized office, he asked, “Where are you going next?” After I told him that I was returning to Bethlehem, I realized my mistake. I thought, “If they didn’t know before, the PA definitely knows where I live now.”
On the drive back, I was silent and aloof. Thinking that I may be targeted by the PA, the days following the interview filled me with dread. I knew that some American citizens had been tortured by PA forces. When I volunteered at a summer camp, I told a Palestinian Christian colleague about what happened in the interview. She replied, “If we [as Palestinians] asked [Rajoub] what you did, we’d be sent to Jericho.” In the PA’s Jericho prison, Palestinians are routinely tortured.
What this experience revealed to me was that Palestinians in the West Bank live in a constant state of fear due to authoritarian PA rule, which severely restricts basic freedoms. But I quickly noticed that this culture of fear doesn’t affect each group in Palestinian society equally.
“There is a level of [discrimination] organizationally. There’s always a favoritism [toward] Muslims versus the Christians. I’ve seen that happen over and over again,” said Christy Anastas, a Christian Bethlehemite, who fled due to religious and political persecution. The West Bank’s culture of fear disproportionately affects Christians, the most vulnerable demographic.
In 1950, Bethlehem and the surrounding villages were 86% Christian. In 2017, Christians constituted approximately 10% of Bethlehem’s population and 1% of the West Bank’s.
While the number of Christians has marginally increased since the PA’s first census in 1997, the percentage of Palestinian Christians has rapidly dwindled, which is partly the result of emigration. Christian flight is the consequence of various factors, including economic hardship, political instability from the Mideast conflict, theological reasons, better opportunities abroad, corrupt and repressive Palestinian governance, and religious discrimination/extremism.
A 2020 study found that Christians are overwhelmingly worried about the presence of Salafist groups (77%) and armed factions such as Hamas (69%). Two-thirds were fearful of rising political Islam and Sharia-based PA rule. Finally, 70% reported hearing statements that Christians would “go to Hellfire,” 44% believed that Muslims don’t wish to see them in the land, and an identical percentage perceived discrimination when seeking jobs.
Additionally, Christians are commonly cursed on mosque loudspeakers. Rajoub himself has made anti-Christian comments. Unlike Muslims, who similarly experience PA repression, Christians face discrimination in many areas of daily life because of their religion.
Sometimes, anti-Christian discrimination is subtle. “As a Christian who went to an Islamic university uncovered, I used to get sexually harassed the whole time just because I had a cross and I didn’t have a headcover. I personally experienced that over and over again. It’s subtle. You can’t go up and say, ‘It’s because I am a Christian.’ You can’t prove it. That’s part of the problem,” Anastas explained. Other times, discrimination manifests in anti-Christian violence. In December 2025, Muslims severely beat a Christian man in Beit Jala. Some days later, Muslim extremists set ablaze a Christmas tree in Jenin’s Holy Redeemer Church.
However, most Palestinian Christians are afraid to speak about this discrimination.
“They will not talk about it [discrimination] publicly. They will not talk about it in groups,” said Luke Moon, Executive Director of the Philos Project. When I asked Anastas what happens when Christian-Muslim issues do occur, she told me that Palestinians are “always trying to manage it within the society, shut it down, and think, ‘It’s the Israeli occupation trying to create fractions between us.’”
Since Palestinian society perpetually aims to project a false image of unity, it’s uncommon for stories of anti-Christian violence to appear in international media. Consequently, it’s typical for these media outlets to inaccurately place the blame for Christian suffering entirely on Israel, while ignoring the problems within Palestinian society.
A 2024 study found that Christians don’t typically report incidents of harassment (or worse) to the police because it may instigate further oppression. As I questioned Maurice Hirsch, the study’s first author, about the interviews he conducted with Christians, he said that his sources “cannot be named. These people suffer the effects of PA retribution.”
Similarly, Anastas explained that the consequences of reporting discrimination are unpredictable: “Sometimes you go into Stockholm syndrome, where you’re inside an oppressive system, and you’d rather make friends with the oppressive system to be able to survive, versus try and fight it, because you never know what the consequences are. The consequences are unpredictable. Sometimes, you can get away with it. Sometimes, you can get killed for it.”
What I experienced in Ramallah was not simply an interview with a senior Palestinian official, but a glimpse into the culture of fear that operates in the West Bank. This casts a shadow on the future of Israeli-Palestinian relations.
By maintaining an atmosphere of fear, the PA undermines the possibility of reform. A society that intimidates its own citizens (and especially religious minorities), engages in torture, discourages self-criticism, and incentivizes martyrdom is not a viable partner for peace. Until this changes, moderate Palestinians won’t have the ability to create a future where values such as freedom, justice, and peace with Israel are upheld.
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What It’s Like to Be in High School and Run for Cover From Rockets in Israel
FILE PHOTO: A drone view shows people stand around apparent remains of a ballistic missile lying in the desert, following an attack by Iran on Israel, near the southern city of Arad, Israel October 2, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Amir Cohen/File Photo
I found myself barefoot as I sprinted across a courtyard in the early hours of Shabbat, pulled from my sleep by the sound of a siren. This was not the soft, steady siren that gently welcomes Shabbat in cities across Israel. This was different — a sharp, urgent, rising and falling sound that demanded immediate shelter.
There was no time to think, or put on shoes — only to move. I ran to the nearest shelter alongside a group of others torn from their beds, my heart pounding in sync with the alarm.
I am one of 13 girls in the inaugural cohort of the Nelech Program, spending a semester of 10th grade in Israel. On Shabbat Zachor, February 28th, we were gathered for a school Shabbaton, expecting a weekend of connection and calm. Instead, we were met with uncertainty. Without our phones, we didn’t know that this siren marked the beginning of a war with Iran. We assumed it was a missile alert. But the distinction didn’t matter in that moment. A siren is a siren, and it sends you running.
That first alarm was the beginning of a Shabbat spent moving in and out of shelters, a pattern that would continue for weeks. Nelech’s goal is to give American students a glimpse into the life of a typical Israeli 10th grader. What I experienced instead was something deeper: a glimpse into the resilience of a people living in Israel during wartime.
Life quickly changed. Sirens became part of the rhythm of our days and nights, waking us up at unpredictable hours. Schools closed. Parents stayed home with their children. Public spaces like beaches, hiking trails, and movie theaters went quiet. Every outing required awareness: Where is the nearest shelter? How quickly can I get there? Gatherings were limited and celebrations were postponed or reshaped. Weddings, bar and bat mitzvahs, even daily prayers, were adapted to fit the reality that everyone learned to navigate.
And yet, throughout all of this, something remarkable revealed itself. On that first Shabbat, as we hurried in and out of the shelter, the Israeli girls comforted us. They checked in, made sure we were okay, and then, unbelievably, began to sing. Songs of emunah and “Am Yisrael Chai.” The sound of voices singing together transformed the space. Someone found an Israeli flag, and suddenly the shelter was filled not just with fear, but with strength, unity, and life.
I began to notice this everywhere. Israelis have an incredible ability to face fear with strength, and to answer uncertainty with connection. At a bat mitzvah I attended during the war, a siren interrupted the celebration. But instead of ending, the party moved into the shelter. The music continued and the dancing intensified. The joy didn’t disappear, it adapted.
There is also a strong sense of responsibility toward one another. During sirens, people open their homes to strangers without hesitation. In those moments, there are no strangers, only people who need each other.
I felt this same unity on Yom HaZikaron — Israel’s memorial day. When the siren sounds on that day, it is flat, steady, and unbroken. A sound of mourning. The entire country comes to a standstill, once at night and once during the day. Cars stop in the middle of highways. Conversations stop. For a few minutes, an entire nation, as one, remembers those who gave their lives. Everyone remembers a name, a face, a story.
On Yom Ha’atzmaut — Israel’s independence day — the same nation that stood in silence rises together in joy, honoring not just loss, but life.
Before coming to Israel, a siren was just a sound, an interruption or background noise to me. Now, it has more meaning. It is fear, but also courage. It is loss, but also unity. It serves as a reminder of both vulnerability and strength.
As I write these lines, I am still here. Yom Yerushalayim is approaching, then Shavuot. Plans are still made with a question mark. Schedules shift. The possibility of another siren is never far.
But neither is something else. People still find each other. Celebrations don’t disappear; they move, they shrink, they adjust. And when the siren fades, the singing begins again.
Aliza Pollack, from White Plains, NY and a student at SAR High School, is a participant in the Nelech Program — a unique initiative of the Ohr Torah Stone network and the Tzemach David Foundation bringing North American 10th graders to Israel for an immersive semester of living and learning.