For the past two years, 70 mental health workers in Gaza have been leaving their tents—infested with bugs and rats, and repeatedly threatened by nearby bombs and missiles—to teach basic trauma healing techniques to others who have endured unimaginable loss. These counselors, part of the Center for Mind-Body Medicine (CMBM), walk up to two hours to reach makeshift gathering spaces in tents and rubble-strewn areas, where they lead workshops for children and adults. The sessions include slow deep breathing to calm nervous systems locked in a cycle of fight or flight, rhythmic dancing to traditional Islamic tunes played on cell phones to help participants shake off fear, and drawing exercises using paper and crayons to express feelings too deep for words.
The program, founded by Dr. James Gordon, a psychiatrist and CMBM CEO, has been active in Gaza since 2002. Gordon has visited the region 20 times to develop a population-wide trauma healing initiative parallel to one he created with Israeli colleagues on the other side of the Erez Crossing. Similar programs have been established in Kosovo, Ukraine, and the United States after mass shootings and climate-related disasters. The Gaza and Israel programs began small, with invitations from overwhelmed mental health professionals, and grew through partnerships with local organizations that welcomed CMBM's evidence-based approach to self-care and mutual support. Over time, local faculties were trained and mentored to train successive groups of clinicians, educators, clerics, and women's group leaders.
For the last 32 months, unable to enter Gaza due to the conflict, Gordon has been haunted by images of mutilated children—first from Israeli kibbutzim, then from Gaza. He wakes each morning to check WhatsApp, where he often learns of the deaths of Israeli hostages and his Gazan colleagues and their families. Psychologists, counselors, and a nurse who provided trauma care through the program—professionals with whom his team shared meals and spirited discussions—were killed in their homes along with their family members, sometimes dozens at a time. Despite these losses, the work continues.
Data collected by CMBM's Country Director, psychologist Jamil Abdel Atti, and his team shows remarkable outcomes. Among 200 adults who began five-session groups, 80% had severe or extremely severe depressive symptoms initially, but 84% concluded with normal levels. All 200 children and adolescents initially qualified for a diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder; after the fifth session, with war still killing and maiming their friends, only 30% still qualified. Children's drawings reflected this transformation: in the first group, they drew themselves as dark, cramped figures with downturned mouths and tear-streaked faces. By the fifth session, one girl drew herself as a radiant flower, and another depicted herself with luxuriant pigtails standing beneath a bright red beating heart.
Now, with a ceasefire in place, some Gazans are still being killed according to the United Nations and CMBM's team. As people emerge from the life-or-death struggle for survival that numbed their senses, their trauma is transforming into stunned grief. Counselors still walk slowly through the stench of bodies decomposing under ruins of schools, mosques, and homes. They scan the ground for unexploded weapons and share coins with emaciated, begging children. Overhead, drones and helicopters continue to hover, their noises now easily identifiable. Yet the team preserves a hope renewed every day as they comfort those who have lost children and limbs. They practice soft belly breathing five or six times daily and teach it constantly to children and parents. They get people up, shaking and dancing, and describe it as awakening them from the dead.
Atti, who has lost two sisters and more than a dozen extended family members, explained how he manages: «I have to be strong and take care of my children and my five grandchildren—to put them first. And my work, our work, saves us. It is satisfying to help the children, especially those who lost parents and legs. They make all of us hopeful. They are our future. But above all, it is Allah. I know that no matter what happens, no matter how much we suffer, or how many people I love die—it is Allah's will.»
Recently, after an international faculty led online workshops to deepen the Gaza team's skills with children, all 70 counselors came together to celebrate what they had learned. They put up pictures on a board to share how they were feeling—scraps of magazines, photos preserved from wreckage. One counselor pointed to a partially inflated red balloon, saying it reminded her of childhood and hope. A program administrator drew two leaves—one green, one orange—representing the cycle of life and renewal. The program has reached an estimated 300,000 children and adults across Gaza, offering a lifeline of psychological support in the midst of devastation.
