In the delivery room of a Jerusalem hospital, a mother noticed something unusual as her contractions intensified and a midwife tried to help the woman in labor into a more comfortable position.
“She told me that something was hurting her,” midwife Elga Froman recalled. “That's when I realized that my gun, which was holstered on a rotating belt, had shifted forward and touched her.” After the baby was born, Froman's colleagues at the hospital said she still had the gun. I took a photo of Mr. Froman standing next to the newborn. “This is a picture of contrast,” she said.
Froman, a mother of five who now lives in the Golan Heights in northern Israel, had never thought about getting a gun license before October 7. She chose non-military national service over military service in the Israel Defense Forces and had never fired a gun in her life. The change came quickly after Hamas carried out an unprecedented terrorist attack on the Israeli community on October 7, killing more than 1,200 people and shattering the sense of security that many Israelis had relied on for years. .
President Trump promises 'hell in the Middle East' if hostages are not released before taking office
A civilian emergency team conducts target practice in the city of Kiryat Shmona, within range of rockets fired by Hezbollah from Lebanon, March 4, 2024. (Erez Ben Simon/TPS-IL)
“On the night of October 7, my husband and I realized that I needed protection as I traveled alone at night on dangerous roads to do the work that brings life to the world.” Froman told FOX News Digital. “I had submitted my gun permit application by the next morning. I hope I don't have to use a gun now, but I'm prepared if I ever need one.”
For decades, firearm ownership was not common in Israel. Although military service guaranteed many Israelis training in weapons, personal firearms were considered more of an obligation than a necessity. Strict permitting procedures deterred many, and Israelis' trust in the state and military to protect them from the threat of terrorism took precedence over Israel's low crime rate.
Midwife Elga Froman decided to get a gun license after the October 7 Hamas terrorist attack.
But after the October 7 Hamas massacre, many Israelis have come to see personal guns as a necessary security measure in a new, more dangerous reality. “On October 7th, we didn't have enough medical teams, so we didn't have enough defense,” Froman pointed out. “Learning from that experience, community health teams are now formed and armed to provide initial response.”
Elga Froman, a midwife from northern Israel, and her husband decided to get a gun license after the October 7 terrorist attack.
Israel's Supreme Court is currently hearing a petition against nationalist Minister of National Security Itamar Ben Gvir, alleging that his office issued firearms permits without proper authority.
In the months following the Oct. 7 attacks, more than 260,000 new gun permit applications were filed, nearly as many as in the past 20 years combined. More than 100,000 licenses have already been approved, a tenfold increase from the previous year.
A woman shoots a gun at a shooting range in Israel's Jordan Valley on April 10, 2024. (Yoav Dudkevich/TPS-IL)
Ayala Milkin, a mother from Shiloh in Judea and Samaria, commonly known as the West Bank, said her husband, an IDF reservist, was sent to war in Gaza, leaving her family of three without permission to use firearms. I applied. young children. “I felt it was dangerous to drive through an Arab village, so I knew I had to do something to protect myself,” she said. “The process is much faster than it was before October 7, but it still took months because of the influx of applications.”
Mirkin still carries a pistol with him whenever he leaves the settlement, but the conflict continues. “I don't want to own a gun. The day I get my gun back will be the happiest day of my life. But I don't have a choice. A gun is a tool for survival.”
One year anniversary in October. 7 attacks cause lasting trauma for Israelis and Jewish Americans: experts
For families like Mirkin's, guns are a part of everyday life. She keeps her guns safe and secure and trains her children never to touch them. “It's not a tool to kill, it's a tool to protect,” she emphasizes. “My focus is on saving lives, not taking them.”
Oren Gozlan, a paratrooper veteran and father, was among those who hesitated before applying for his license. Ghozlan, who lived on the Israeli side of the Green Line border near the Palestinian city of Tulkarem, decided he could no longer avoid arming. “The fear of having a gun in the home with children still exists, but it is outweighed by the need to protect families,” he says. “October 7th changed everything. It brought a realization that we were vulnerable in ways we never imagined.”
Ghozlan is upset because he believes there was insufficient oversight during the licensing process. “At the shooting range, I saw people who had never held a gun in their lives narrowly hitting their target. It's scary to think that those people are walking around with firearms now. .”
Sarr Zohar, a reservist in the elite force, expressed similar changes. Zohar resisted owning a gun for many years, believing he would no longer need one after his military service. However, a series of terrorist attacks since October 7 forced him to reconsider. “I couldn't bear the thought of being powerless if something were to happen,” he says. “I feel like it’s my responsibility because I know I’m trained and I’m available.”
In the aftermath of the October 7 massacre, Saar Zohar, a reservist in the elite Israeli Defense Forces, decided to get a gun license. (Fox News)
Unlike the United States, where gun ownership is often associated with fear of crime and the defense of private property, in Israel guns are seen as a means of counterterrorism. Historically, Israel has avoided the public mass shootings that have sometimes plagued the United States, but experts warn that the rapid proliferation of firearms could change that. With so many untrained people in possession of weapons, the fear of impulsive action or tragic mistakes is greater.
The Zohar is plagued by the possibility of misidentification. “It’s scary to think that another armed civilian might mistake me for an attacker,” he said of the November 2023 tragedy when an Israeli civilian who opened fire on terrorists in Jerusalem was accidentally killed by a young soldier. He spoke while citing a similar incident.
The psychological toll of this change is becoming evident among the newly armed population. Eyal Haskel, a father of three living in Tel Aviv, talks about the social pressure he faced after the October 7 attack. “I never wanted to carry a gun, but my friends wondered why I wasn't armed. It was like an expectation, almost like an expectation.” “
October 7th isn't over yet. One year later, 101 hostages are still being held in Gaza
Israelis train at a shooting range, February 12, 2023. (Gil Cohen Mergen/AFP via Getty Images)
But Haskell is also shaken by what he sees at the shooting range. “People are treating it like a game and firing without any understanding of their responsibilities. It's scary to think that people like this are currently on license.”
For many Israelis, the reforms represent a necessary response to an existential threat. But it also revealed deep flaws in the system. Critics argue that the current approach sacrifices long-term safety for short-term safety, warning of potential unintended consequences ranging from accidental shootings to increased domestic violence. There is.
How an Israeli kindergarten teacher became a battlefield hero, saving lives on 'Death Streets' October 7
“Getting a gun license is easier than getting a driver's license,” Gozlan said. “With cars, you need classes, tests, and strict rules. With guns, it's just some paperwork and a few hours at the range.”
Froman sees things differently. “If someone threatens you, you can only draw your weapon in a national security situation. Unless you are a terrorist, you cannot draw your gun in a situation that threatens the life of an individual. The rules here are It's clear: I have to have a safe place.''I can't rely on my husband's safe. I am not allowed to use my gun and my husband is not allowed to use my gun either. Self-defense, not for the public, but for harming us. ”
Israeli soldiers patrol near Kibbutz Beli in southern Israel on October 12, 2023. It is near where 270 revelers were killed by terrorists during the Supernova music festival on October 7th. (Alice Messinis/AFP via Getty Images)
Mirkin agrees. “We're not like America,” she said. “We don't want to use guns as a hobby…For us, it's not a choice, it's survival.”
One interviewee, who requested anonymity, told how he trained his wife in basic firearms handling, even though she did not have a license. “I didn't want to put her in this position, but she needs to know how to protect her children if I'm not home during an attack.”
CLICK HERE TO GET THE FOX NEWS APP
As Israel adjusts to this new reality, the social impact of increased firearm ownership remains uncertain. For many, the weight of these decisions highlights the delicate balance between protection and responsibility.
“I hope I never have to use it again,” Gozlan said. “But we cannot ignore the reality we live in. October 7th changed everything.”
