In a quiet village near the Mediterranean Sea, a revolutionary program is turning some of Israel’s most vulnerable teens into thriving young adults.
At the helm of this effort is Nurit Shamir, CEO of the Nirim Youth Rehabilitation Program, an organization redefining how Israel supports its at-risk youth.
Shamir, a former high-ranking executive in the private sector, made a life-changing pivot to lead Nirim four years ago.
“I moved from a different galaxy,” she laughs. “I had a great corporate career, but I wanted to wake up in the morning and do something that matters.”
Founded 24 years ago to honor fallen Israel Navy Shayetet 13 fighter Nir Krichman by his brothers in arms, Nirim began as an ambitious vision: to offer high-risk teens a second chance through wilderness therapy, education, and unconditional belief in their potential. Krichman was killed in action in 2002 during a Shayetet 13 operation against terrorists in Nablus.
His commander, who was once an at-risk youth, was motivated to create a program that empowers youth at high risk and helps give them opportunities that would not have been afforded to them, and to name it in Nir’s memory – Nirim.
THE ORGANIZATION has grown into a national model for youth rehabilitation, blending therapeutic, academic, and social integration efforts.
At the heart of Nirim is its Youth Village in Sdot Yam, home to 120 teens – 80% of them boys – who arrive by court order.
“These are extreme cases,” Shamir explains. “Some come with criminal records, others have suffered severe abuse. They’re not bad kids – they’ve just been failed by their environments.”
Each teen undergoes a multi-year program that integrates tailored education, individual and group therapy, and intensive wilderness experiences. On Tuesdays, students trade classrooms for compass work and survival skills. Every six weeks, they embark on multi-day desert treks, carrying everything on their backs and learning resilience, teamwork, and emotional regulation along the way.
The transformation is often dramatic. One boy, raised in an ultra-Orthodox family, arrived unable to read or write in Hebrew. After two years at Nirim, he completed a full matriculation diploma, reaching one level below the highest tier in English. “He didn’t know the alphabet when he came in,” Shamir says. “Now he’s thriving.”
More than a village: Reaching youth before they fall
While the Youth Village serves the most acute cases, Nirim also operates 23 community-based centers, known as Nirim Houses, targeting youth in peripheral areas who are on a dangerous path but not yet in the judicial system. Social workers patrol neighborhoods at night, identifying and engaging teens before they deteriorate further.
“We realized we couldn’t just focus on the 1% at the bottom,” Shamir says. “We needed to reach the thousands who are slipping but haven’t hit rock bottom.”
Another innovative branch is a therapeutic agricultural farm on the Golan Heights. It offers a last-resort environment for youths who cannot remain in the main village due to behavioral issues. Working with animals and tending the land provide a powerful alternative to incarceration.
Nirim’s mission took on new urgency after the Oct. 7 Hamas attack, which displaced tens of thousands of Israeli children and teenagers. Many remain in temporary housing, separated from schools, communities, and support systems.
To respond, Nirim launched a school in the Negev, named after a graduate killed in the attack, to serve teens suffering from severe trauma and anxiety. It also operated programs in evacuee hotels, offering nighttime support to unsupervised teens prone to drifting into drugs, violence, or despair.
“After Oct. 7, the number of youth at risk skyrocketed,” Shamir says. “Add to that the impact of COVID-19, and you’re talking about an entire generation that’s been dislocated – physically and emotionally.”
From at-risk to army officer
Nirim measures its success not just in academic diplomas or therapy milestones but in something uniquely Israeli: meaningful IDF service.
“Most of our youth come from backgrounds that would disqualify them from enlisting,” says Shamir. “But 95% of our graduates do enlist – and many become officers.” For those who can’t, Nirim arranges National Service placements, ensuring that each teen has a structured transition into adulthood.
The organization maintains a graduate support department, guiding alumni through army life and beyond. It offers housing, career counseling, scholarships, and a safety net for those without stable families.
“We are a home for life,” Shamir says, meaning that alumni always have a place to fall back on, where they can stay; they will not be homeless. “No one leaves Nirim [feeling] alone.”
One of Nirim’s most powerful contributions is how it challenges societal assumptions.
“People think at-risk youth only come from poor families. That’s not true,” says Shamir. “We’ve had kids from wealthy suburbs whose issues stem from untreated ADHD or emotional neglect. It can happen anywhere.”
What sets Nirim apart, she adds, is its unshakable belief in every teen’s potential. “They are not broken. They are not doomed. They are just kids who’ve been hurt and need someone to believe in them.”
Despite its success, Shamir wishes the organization didn’t have to exist. “In an ideal world, we wouldn’t be needed,” she says. “But the reality is, with today’s trauma, we’ll be needed more than ever.”
For now, Nirim continues to expand its reach, committed to catching as many youth as it can before they fall through the cracks.
“Watching a child who had no future become a soldier, a student, a parent – it’s the most rewarding thing in the world,” Shamir says. “It proves what we’ve always believed: Every child deserves a second chance.”