For the Children
- Neora Shem
- Jul 17
- 6 min read
Amidst the inferno that Israel is unleashing in Gaza, it’s impossible not to shrink back and shudder at the unimaginable number of nearly 20,000 children who have been killed – more than 30% of all casualties. One response to this horrific reality has been to stand in public spaces, holding up their photos and names. Neora, one of the founders of the Kaplan/Begin group of demonstrators, shares how it all started and where things stand today.
Ayala Shalev, Editor, That’s About Us
For the Children / Neora Shem
On March 22, 2025, something significant happened. The "Daily File" left the virtual world and took to the streets. In other words, the hashtag #forcibly_involved broke into the wider world. This became clear to Adi Ronen Argov from the many photos on social media and a post by "Looking the Occupation in the Eye." I immediately got an excited call from Adi: "What is this incredible thing that just happened? You made my Sisyphean work visible to the general public. I’m so moved – it’s amazing not to be alone. Next week, I’m with you." And that’s how it was. Since then, we've stayed connected – the small group who initiated this meaningful action that's grown so much since.
The Action for the Children
On the morning of March 19, 2025, we woke up to terrible news. Israel had broken the ceasefire, bombed Gaza, and killed many civilians, including dozens of children (just this week, we learned the exact number: tragically, that night alone, no fewer than 193 girls and boys were killed!). We got on Zoom to cry—Alma, Amit, Daniel, and I. We found ourselves clicking our tongues and complaining, even crying, but also realizing we couldn’t just stay in that position – we had to do something. Amit suggested we hold up photos of the children, but where would we find them? I was very familiar with the Daily File page, so I began pulling the names of those killed that night and started printing them in black and white at home. Alma and Daniel, experienced in kickstarting actions, immediately started organizing a few peacekeepers and calling more friends. We met that Saturday night at the Kaplan intersection. Daniel and Alma brought memorial candles, and we decided to stand in silence. That’s how the display began – the Action for the Children.
We knew this was a sensitive subject, both among Kaplan protestors and within groups fighting for the return of the hostages. We expected backlash, but were surprised by the reactions of passersby who came closer, realized what it was about, and lowered their gaze. Some thanked us for being there, some placed a hand on their heart or wiped away a tear, and some joined and stood with us. When the entire march from Habima Square passed by, there were about forty of us in a row, stunned and not knowing what to do – so we continued towards Azrieli and stood at the Begin intersection in a straight line, holding the photos and candles. People started asking who we were, and we explained we weren’t part of any group or movement, just a bunch of friends who care. When they asked for our name and how to join next week, we said we’d set up a WhatsApp group, call it “The Action for the Children,” and invite anyone who wanted to join. So that’s what we did.
History of Activism
I met Alma Beck, Daniel Kantor, and Amit Shilo through WOMEN SIT INS – the women-in-white actions that are actually a form of performance art: at a time when national trauma prevented people from seeing Gaza residents as fellow human beings, we would sit in circles around a realistic heart sculpture made of fabric, holding signs with one or two words (in Hebrew, Arabic, English, or Russian) describing basic human needs like dignity, nutrition, running water, equality, and more. This was our way of sending empathy, peace, and goodwill to all women in this land, from the river to the sea. Alma, Daniel, and Amit were already experienced in organizing actions, since they had founded and managed "House of Solidarity," which is distributing food baskets to marginalized communities since the COVID era—a space that became a hub for activism, activities, film screenings, and lectures, many of which would have been restricted elsewhere.
I met them after feeling disappointed by the crowd at “Roaring Silence,” a movement I founded during the judicial overhaul together with friends from the Buddhist community. That group had organized meditation sessions in the heart of protests for many months, but when the war began, nearly all withdrew, refusing to take part in a peace message. I fell in love with Alma, Daniel, and Amit and admired their organizational skills, especially their focus on participant safety through trained “peacekeepers” skilled in de-escalation: they protected those sitting in silence by spotting troublemakers, listening, and talking with them until they calmed down or were moved away. Beyond that, I was struck by these young women’s clarity and precision, able to carry out uncompromising, radical actions with no hesitation – they know what they want and they get it done.
That clarity made all the difference. It enabled so many people to join – in fact, every week our numbers doubled, and within two months we had around a thousand participants. The operation got more complex: Nimrod began managing the website to coordinate and document activities; Adam founded the logistics team with him, and together with Shai, they are handling transporting and storing materials as well as distributing and collecting the photos and candles. Yael took responsibility for arranging participants in a representative way; Timna handles media relations; Shachar and Tamari organize the peacekeepers; Tal-Sharon and Ayala coordinate special projects. The printed photos evolved from black and white to color, then to larger cardstock and now to posters that are easy to hold and visible from afar. The candles changed too – from memorial candles that were hard to light and carry in the wind, to jars with candles donated by the “Children of Light,” which proved too heavy, and now to LED candles that look great from a distance and are perfectly safe to hold.
We Didn't See, We Didn't Hear
The whole world is talking about the injustices Israel is committing in Gaza—the starvation, the merciless killings, the staggering numbers, the ethnic cleansing manifesting in the displacement of two million people into a tiny corner at the edge of Gaza. Meanwhile, in Israel, debates revolve around the conscription of ultra-Orthodox Jews, the Prime Minister’s trial, government firings, and silly reality shows. Our action has the impact of making these crimes visible to a public that claims, “we didn’t see, we didn’t hear.” Because a child is a child, and when you look them in the eye, you can't just stand by.
As a result, our action is receiving broad international coverage—European TV networks and even those in the Far East have reported on it, as well as American newspapers. Yet here in Israel, only Haaretz has addressed the terrible loss of children in Gaza and our commemorative action. Additionally, similar initiatives – sometimes even more radical – have sprung up in other cities, universities, institutions like Yad Vashem, outside Air Force bases, and even by Israelis in London, Berlin, New York, and Los Angeles.
The most moving moment was when someone from Gaza saw us on Al Jazeera, recognized a family member among the photos we held, and wrote about it on Twitter; other Gazans responded by posting photos of themselves holding pictures of Israeli children killed on October 7. Not every response is pleasant – some Israelis are offended that we care about “children who are enemies,” while some pro-Palestinians see our actions as whitewashing crimes and tell us to leave the country. Facing such criticism from all sides isn’t easy. But the urgency of the moment, internally and externally, compels us to continue to acknowledge what we witness and refuse to accept.
Flowers and Angels
It’s awful hearing the bombers flying south, the booms and shockwaves reaching even Tel Aviv, knowing that later today or tomorrow, Adi Argov will start sending me the photos of those murdered in these bombings – in schools, hospitals, tents for the displaced, and even in food lines. As time goes on, we keep looking for new ways to amplify our message. For example, during the two weeks of the Iran war – when protests were banned on Begin and Kaplan – we planned to set up a memorial for children killed in that war, in Gaza, and in Israel, right in front of the Jabotinsky House. Fortunately, a ceasefire was reached, and so when we built the memorial by the Jabotinsky House, there were hundreds of us. There were photos of the children, sweet angels with the names of kids who had no photos, and there was harp music and singing by Renana Ne’eman, which joined our usual silence like a lament.
This week, feeling the loss of the many hundreds of children killed since mid-March – the cursed day that Israel broke the ceasefire to keep fighting for a reckless, maddening leader – we’ll stand with simple flowers that we hand-painted, each with the name of a child for whom not even a photo remains.
You’re invited to see the children’s photos, pictures from our actions in Tel Aviv and elsewhere, and to read the touching articles and posts written about them. There you’ll also find a form to join us – if you haven’t already: https://is.gd/yeladimphotos
Neora Shem – author, programmer, and digital artist. A longtime activist and spiritual companion for the dying.
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