In August 2024, my wife, Adi, our two boys, Lavie, eight, and Eitam, five, and I embarked on a year-long emissary mission called Bedein – Agents of Hope, grounded in our commitment to environmental resilience and societal healing. This journey began in Alaska, a state known for its untamed beauty and vast wilderness. 

Through our travels, we sought to explore not only the majestic landscapes but also models of resilience that could inspire change in Israel, where the scars of war deepen daily. The places we visited offered more than environmental lessons – they provided insights into how nature can serve as a powerful tool for healing communities affected by trauma.

The Jewish community in Anchorage and Palmer: Spiritual anchor

One of the most uplifting moments during our time in Alaska was spending our first Shabbat at the Chabad Jewish Center in Anchorage. This center, one of the last places on Earth to bring in Shabbat, provided a singular opportunity to connect with the local Jewish community and Jewish visitors from around the world. 

Shabbat lunch brought together more than 60 guests, where Adi and I shared our personal and professional journeys. Adi spoke about the strength of love and altruism, drawing from the Holocaust to demonstrate how these values shape our understanding of humanity. I, in turn, shared my experiences as a war photographer in Sderot and environmental activist, discussing the urgent need for resilience in both nature and society. 

Together, we emphasized the power of positivity and resilience in overcoming personal and collective struggles.

Mission of resilience and recovery

Our time in Alaska was centered on learning how conservation efforts can promote both environmental and societal resilience, offering us valuable lessons to bring back to Israel. 

At the Alaska SeaLife Center, we witnessed the rehabilitation of marine life, experiencing the emotional release of two seal pups back into the wild – a profound moment that underscored the healing power of nature. At the Musk Ox Farm in Palmer, the preservation of Ice Age species like the musk ox illustrated the importance of protecting ancient ecosystems and the interconnectedness of nature and community.

Our journey also led us to Elisheva Garvey, owner of the Lighthouse Resort in Homer, whose deep connection to Israel and passion for environmental healing stood out. Her research into the therapeutic power of nature aligns with our own mission to develop spaces of healing for those affected by trauma.

Finally, our visit to the Stewart Family Resort in Glacier View was the highlight of our trip. It was there, surrounded by Alaska’s majestic wilderness, that we began envisioning a collaboration to create a therapeutic retreat for Israeli veterans and victims of trauma – using nature as the foundation for recovery and resilience.

Alaska’s social landscape: Conservative stronghold with unique native story

Politically, Alaska leans conservative, with around 60% of its population voting Republican in recent elections. It was the last state to join the Union, along with Hawaii in 1959. Before its purchase by the United States in 1867, Alaska was part of Russia; but long before that, it was home to various indigenous peoples for thousands of years.

Beneath this political landscape lies a complex social fabric, especially in relation to its Native communities. Throughout our journey, we met many Alaskans who had married into Native families, reflecting a rare story of successful integration. 

One of our hosts, a fisherman from the Aleutian Islands, embodied this blend of Native tradition and modern American life. He was a skilled fisherman and a country music performer in Alaska and Florida. His story surprised me, as Alaska is one of the few US states where the Native population has largely assimilated into society.

However, not all Native communities in Alaska share this success story. Sarah Stewart, our host at Glacier View, shared a much grimmer reality. She grew up among Alaska’s indigenous communities and spent nearly 30 years living with them. When I asked if she remained in touch with friends from the Native reserves, her answer was haunting: “No, none of them are alive. They all committed suicide over the years.” 

This stark reality mirrors the larger statistics – suicide rates among Alaska Natives are 40% higher than the national average. The isolation, poverty, and substance abuse that plague many Native communities leave deep scars.

This conversation resonated deeply with us, as it paralleled the mental health crisis in Israel. Alaska’s Native communities and Israel’s war-affected populations may differ in their specifics, but both are in dire need of healing. Nature, with its capacity to inspire recovery, is a common thread we hope to explore further in developing therapeutic programs for Israel’s mentally injured – a growing community as the conflict continues.

The real Alaska: Self-sufficiency and rugged individualism

Alaska’s identity is shaped not just by its politics but also by a deep sense of self-reliance. 

A true Alaskan is someone who always has moose or bear meat in his cooler. Hunting isn’t just a tradition – it’s a necessity. 

Unlike industrialized hunting, Alaska’s practices are sustainable, regulated to ensure that hunting remains a personal, not commercial, endeavor. This approach to self-sufficiency is a model of environmental respect that could serve as an example for the modern world.

However, not all of our experiences were serene. On our first day in Palmer, we encountered hate graffiti reading “FREE PALESTINE” scrawled on a small pedestrian bridge. The shock was immediate.  After 32 hours of travel, the echoes of the conflict we hoped to momentarily escape had followed us even to this remote corner of Alaska. It was a stark reminder that Israel’s struggles reverberate globally.

Oct. 7 brought another painful reminder when Christian pastors in Anchorage and Homer, proudly displaying Israeli flags, were met with gunfire and forced to take the flags down. While these incidents are isolated, they underscore the deep political tensions that can surface in even the most distant places.

Veterans, Israel, and deep respect for the military

Alaska has a profound respect for military veterans deeply woven into its culture. This respect goes beyond the standard priority boarding on flights, which is common across the US; here, veterans are honored with special discounts at attractions, including national parks and state fairs. This visible appreciation reflects Alaska’s commitment to recognizing and supporting its veterans meaningfully, underscoring the deep-rooted honor for those who have served.

During the state fair, witnessing the respect shown for the national anthem and prayers for missing American soldiers was truly moving. The heartfelt participation of Alaskans created a profound sense of solidarity, bringing to mind Israel’s soldiers who continue to stand on the front lines, as well as the hostages suffering in Gaza. Standing together in these moments, I felt a deep connection between our struggles and shared resilience.

Alaska’s Christian community, with over 40,000 members in Christians United for Israel (CUFI), offers steadfast support for Israel – a bond that transcends politics and geography, built on shared values and an enduring commitment to mutual solidarity.

Lessons for Israel: Nature as a healing tool

Our journey through Alaska was more than just an exploration of conservation; it was a discovery of how nature can serve as a platform for healing and resilience. 

Alaska’s vast, untamed landscapes showed us the power of nature to restore both the environment and the human spirit. As we continue our travels through Canada and British Columbia, we carry with us the knowledge that these wild, remote places hold the potential to serve as sanctuaries for Israel’s mentally injured – those suffering from the ongoing war.

In Israel, nature could play a similar role. The Dead Sea Revival Project, which I’ve led for seven years, demonstrates how Israel’s own natural wonders, such as the Dead Sea, can become platforms for healing. 

Just as Alaska’s wilderness offers hope, Israel’s landscapes – from the Dead Sea to its water sources – can inspire resilience and recovery in a nation that desperately needs it. ■

The writer is founder and director of the Dead Sea Revival Project, leading efforts for seven years to promote eco-tourism, MENA water diplomacy, and innovative methods of conservation through sustainable travel across the globe.

ANCHORAGE, Alaska (KTUU) – A preliminary ribbon cutting of a new building dedicated to People of Color in Anchorage opened their doors Saturday, November 9. Despite the building being unfinished, supporters were thrilled.

The Alaska Black Caucus began renovations on the Equity Center downtown in 2021. ABC estimates funding from community members and a variety of donations to total around $3 million.

Located on Barrow Street, the new Equity Center houses a commercial kitchen and conference room – and according to ABC will offer office spaces and co-working facilities. ABC says their vision is to serve Black, Indigenous and People of Color in Anchorage.

Renovations are not yet complete, contractors working on the renovations said they’re still waiting for things like cabinets and light fixtures. Celeste Hodge Growden, President and CEO of ABC, believed it was time to let the community see their progress.

During speeches from a wide array of supporters, including Senator Lisa Murkowski, Anchorage Mayor Suzanne LaFrance, Police Chief Sean Case, Rasmussen Foundation President and CEO Gretchen Guess and Anchorage Assembly member Christopher Constant, all expressed their gratitude for being invited to participate in what they believed to be a step toward unity in Anchorage and their pleasure in being able to fund the Equity Center.

“There are places out there, but they’re not our space.” Hodge Growden said the building represents safety and sanctuary for People of Color in Anchorage. “It’s a place where we can invite our leaders and others in the community to work to resolve issues surrounding health, economics, education and justice.”

During remarks, Reverend Edwinia Brown Patterson said it is those issues the Equity Center is built on:

“I‘m going to teach you a word, so when people ask you ’What is the Equity Center?’ You can say ‘Golly JEEH, yes!’“ Brown Patterson said. ”Justice, Education, Economics, and Health…JEEH!”

Hodge Growden expects the building to be completely finished by early December. She says the ABC has an ambitious agenda. She said weekly community conversations, the Bettye Davis African American Summit and Black History Month are all coming quickly – but the building is intended to be a space for BIPOC organizations to operate out of, and there will likely be many using the center for their own events soon.

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It was a scenario worthy of a TV sitcom: In making a case to the state board of education for limits on cellphones in Alaska schools, state education commissioner and former Anchorage School District superintendent Deena Bishop leaned heavily on an AI text generator — and failed to remove the fabricated citations it added to support her arguments. If she were a high school student, Bishop would have received an F on the assignment and a stern lecture about doing her own work. Embarrassingly, our top education executive is undereducated on the proper use of AI, and we shouldn’t send our students into the world similarly unequipped.

The AI debacle was doubly unfortunate because it distracted from two more worthwhile discussions that we should be having around education and technology — first, the topic Bishop enlisted AI aid to tackle, limits on cellphones in schools. It’s ironic that the citations hallucinated by Bishop’s AI helper were bogus because there is ample real-world data indicating that limits on cellphones in schools are beneficial to student success and social-emotional well-being. Banning the use of cellphones on school grounds is strongly correlated with higher math scores and is broadly supported by teachers who witness the distracting effects of phones on their pupils. The state board of education shouldn’t let Bishop’s misstep distract it from the serious issue at hand — and the potential to reverse some of the distractions that have crept into the classroom.

The other unfortunate aspect of Bishop’s citation-fabrication faux pas is that it displays a lack of maturity in the ways we use artificial intelligence — even at the highest levels of our government. Although the temptation has been strong, particularly in schools, to levy a blanket ban on the use of AI in schoolwork, this is not a technology that is going away — on the contrary, we must expect it to become more deeply embedded in our day-to-day lives in the years to come.

With that in mind, the solution cannot be to impose some sort of monastic moratorium on the technology, but rather to integrate it thoughtfully into the curriculum and teach students how to use it in a responsible way. In the face of such a game-changing development, the impulse to panic is powerful, and — especially in schools — we’re wary of doing things differently than the way we ourselves were taught. But just as calculators didn’t give rise to students who couldn’t do math, the advent of language and image-generation tools, deployed wisely, won’t result in students being unable to think critically.

It’s incumbent on us, as parents and educators, to work out ways that AI can be a valuable teaching tool rather than a crutch used solely to save time and reduce effort. Consider, as just one example, how students enlisting a chatbot as a partner in a Socratic dialogue about a lesson topic could lead to insights that aren’t otherwise feasible given the constraints of a teacher’s time in a given class period.

The road between where we are now and the point at which AI will be seamlessly integrated into our society will surely be a bumpy one, but it will only be bumpier if we don’t focus on using our technological tools correctly. We should be thoughtful about the ways we employ AI to help us, ensuring that we’re not pawning off our work on it but rather using its abilities to expand our own horizons, synthesize data we might not have otherwise considered, and use its output as a springboard to solve our problems creatively — a valuable human skill.

And, whether the person using AI is a student creating an outline for an essay or an education commissioner looking to brief the state school board on policy, we would be wise to double-check what it tells us, lest we end up embarrassed by our naive reliance that the friendly machine spitting out suggestions would never lead us astray. After all, who among us has never been told by our GPS driving assistant to turn down a road that didn’t exist?