Every Israeli remembers a time they had to enter a shelter during a missile barrage. During the most recent one, I was on Instagram, video chatting with a family member who lives in the Netherlands, when the sirens began to wail.
Without finishing my sentence, I sprinted to the nearest shelter—a routine that has become all too familiar. That call marked my first of nearly fifty rushes to safety during this war, as Hezbollah’s missiles rained down on my city, far from any military installation. Terrorists, as we Israelis know too well, make no distinction between civilian and military targets.
People who message me on social media call me brave, a hero even. But I’m no hero—I’m simply fortunate. Being an Israeli teenager, living in central Israel, I have access to institutions and infrastructure that others don’t. The real heroes are the tens of thousands of children and teens who were forced to flee their homes along Israel’s northern and southern borders, where they lived under the constant shadow of radical Islamic terror groups. These young Israelis never asked for anything except what should be guaranteed: the basic human right to safety. We failed them.
Youth shouldn’t have to be heroes. They shouldn’t have to experience war at all. Yes, there’s currently a ceasefire in the north, but history has taught us the fragility of such arrangements. From the Second Lebanon War in 2006 until October 8, 2023, we had a ceasefire too. Yet, during that time, we failed to secure lasting safety for these children.
To protect our young heroes now, we must step up as leaders our country desperately needs.
Recently, I learned of an anonymous Jewish family who donated 12 shelters to 9 Arab-Israeli cities—a profound act of humanitarian leadership that transcends political and ethnic divisions. This gesture crystallized a crucial truth: each one of us has the power to reshape our reality. While not everyone can donate shelters, we all can become Israel’s heroes by strengthening our communities through mutual responsibility and collective action.
We’ve witnessed our other heroes, our brave young soldiers, sacrifice everything—sometimes their very own lives—to protect our nation’s future. As their civilian counterparts, we must match their dedication by building stronger, more resilient, and more united communities. This means putting collective welfare above individual interests, whether through volunteer work, community organizing, or political engagement. Leadership isn’t just about holding positions of power; it’s about taking responsibility for the world we want to create.
My heroes of this past year are the young, resilient children who were forced from their homes as terrorists attacked their homes and communities, the civilians who stepped up to help one another in times of need, and our courageous soldiers who defend us and our values. None of them chose to be heroes—they all simply wanted to live peaceful lives. To honor their sacrifice and protect their legacy, we must become the leaders they deserve: leaders who work tirelessly to ensure that future generations won’t need to be heroes.
Eyal Salti is a 17-year-old student from Kiryat Ono, Israel, who participates in the Young Ambassadors program at the Israeli Center for Young Leaders (ICYL).