Israel’s election must address children without family support - opinion

On October 27, we will all head to the polls and decide who will lead the State of Israel in the years ahead. The election campaign will, of course, focus on security, the economy, and the cost of living. 

But there is another issue that should concern anyone seeking the trust of Israel’s citizens: What do they intend to do for the children and young adults who have no safe home to return to, no family member to catch them when they fall, and no family support network to stand by them in times of crisis?

For most children in Israel, even during the most difficult periods, family is the first line of defense. When school closes, when a crisis occurs, when they need money, advice, a hug, or simply somewhere to come home to, there is someone to turn to.

Children and young adults without family support do not have that layer of protection. When the public system fails to be there for them, there is no other system waiting to take its place. That is precisely why their well-being cannot remain a marginal matter relegated to “social services.” They are, in the most direct sense, the responsibility of the state.

The past several years have taken a heavy toll on children and adolescents in Israel. The COVID-19 pandemic disrupted frameworks, interrupted continuity of care, and deepened feelings of loneliness and uncertainty for many. Before the system had even had a chance to recover, war arrived, plunging an entire society into a prolonged reality of loss, anxiety, and upheaval.

But the same crisis does not affect everyone equally.

A child surrounded by a functioning family may still be deeply affected, but there is someone there to try to hold them together. A child without family support may find themselves coping simultaneously with a national trauma and their own personal trauma, without the consistent adult who is supposed to be by their side.

It is precisely in times like these that the state must become more stable, not less. It must guarantee a framework that does not disappear, continuity in therapeutic relationships, and meaningful adults who can accompany a child over time. For these children, continuity of care is not merely a professional provision in a treatment plan. It is a substitute for the continuity that a family would otherwise provide.

Every change of placement, every therapist who leaves, and every prolonged wait for assistance forces a child who has already learned that adults tend to leave them to start all over again: to rebuild trust, retell their story, and once again ask whether the person in front of them will disappear too. This is not merely a question of service quality. It directly undermines the treatment’s ability to succeed.

At the heart of this system are social workers, alongside the care and educational teams who are with these children every day.

It is easy to talk about national programs, therapeutic models, and reforms. But ultimately, for a child in distress, the “welfare system” is a person. It is the social worker who answers the phone. The counselor who is there at night. The staff member who notices that the child has stopped eating, has not shown up for school, or has withdrawn into their room. The adult who stays, even after the child has tested them again and again to see whether they can truly be trusted.

That is why staff shortages, burnout, and high turnover are not merely workforce problems within a government ministry. When there is no one there to care for a child, there is no care.

We cannot build a policy that expects professionals to handle some of the most complex and extreme situations in Israeli society while simultaneously accepting a reality in which they are difficult to recruit, difficult to retain, and burdened with ever-growing workloads. We cannot expect the welfare system to function as society’s emergency room while funding and operating it as though it were a secondary service.

There is also a fundamental flaw in the way the state views spending on children and young adults at risk. Care, guidance, housing, education, and mental health support are sometimes treated as expenditures that can be cut when more urgent priorities arise. But a child does not stop needing help simply because the budget has run out.

When support is not provided in time, the problem does not disappear. It usually becomes more severe, more deeply entrenched, and far more costly to address.

A young person entering adulthood without a family and without guidance does not suddenly acquire, at age 18, the tools that others have spent years learning at home: how to manage money, whom to call after losing a job, where to sleep when housing falls through, who can help with applying to school or university, and who will be there when life becomes complicated.

Reliance on families after finishing school

Most young people in Israel continue to rely on their parents long after they finish school. Yet the very young people who have no parents to rely on are often expected to become independent faster than everyone else.

This is an absurdity the state must correct. The state’s responsibility toward a child without family support does not end on the day that child legally becomes an adult. It ends when that young person has a genuine chance to stand on their own.

After everything we have been through in recent years, there should no longer be any need to explain what national resilience means. We have learned that resilience is not built solely through defense systems, weapons, and physical protection. It is also built through a society’s ability to support those who have been harmed within it and help them rebuild their lives.

Social services are not an act of charity that the state extends to the vulnerable. They are national infrastructure.

A strong country is not measured solely by its ability to defend its borders. It is also measured by what happens to a child for whom no one but the state bears responsibility.

That is where the election campaign should begin as well. Not with yet another general declaration about “strengthening the welfare system,” but with commitments that can be measured and funded: a long-term national plan to address trauma and emotional distress among children and adolescents; meaningful action to strengthen the social-work workforce and halt burnout and attrition; investment in the salaries and working conditions of frontline care and education staff; and multi-year funding that guarantees children and young adults without family support continuity of care and guidance as they make the transition to independent adulthood.

Having worked in Israel’s welfare system for many years, and now leading an organization that cares for children and young adults without family support, I know that Israel does not lack professional expertise. The professionals know the problems, and they know many of the solutions. What is missing is a national decision to give these issues the place they deserve among the country’s priorities.

On October 27, we will elect the people who will determine the budgets and priorities for the years ahead. Before we enter the voting booth, we should ask them: What are you committing to do for the children for whom the state is the last line of support?

They themselves are not yet able to vote.

That is precisely why the responsibility is ours.

The writer is the CEO of SOS Children’s Villages Israel. She previously held a leading role in Israel’s National Program for Children and Youth at Risk (360) and has extensive senior management experience in the welfare system.