Is It Normal to Feel Anxious Over the Life of a Foreign Leader?

The horrifying invasion of Ukraine is reawakening traumatic memories for many people who have seemingly nothing to do with Ukraine. That includes me, a former child refugee. And as much as I worry for the people of Ukraine, especially the sick, the elderly, and small children, I find myself incessantly worrying about someone of whom I had never even heard before 2019: Volodymyr Zelensky, the Ukrainian president. 

Yes, I’m struggling with existential anxiety over the safety of a foreign leader. And something tells me I’m not alone. 

In the last two weeks, Zelensky has proven himself strong and heroic to the point of disbelief. Whereas any other world leader would be sheltered in the kind of impenetrable bunker that not even a fly could enter, or snuck out of the country in the dark of night, Zelensky has not only stayed in Ukraine, but he’s strapped on military attire, taken up arms, and sent precious messages of hope to his own people and the world. 

This has rendered him unquestionably endearing and heroic. And the more I find someone endearing and heroic, the less I want them to die. 

My affection for Zelensky is only matched by my fear of Russia. I have no doubt that Putin and his agents know Zelensky’s exact location. It’s Russian intelligence, after all, serving a regime headed by a former KGB operative. Maybe they’ve issued a clear order that Zelensky’s not to be targeted because the last thing the Russians want is to render him a martyr. No, Putin wouldn’t be foolish enough to kill Zelensky on purpose, though, as a child survivor of the Iran-Iraq War, I know that bombs dropped overhead aren’t always precise.

I feel connected with every Jew in the world, and these days, I can’t help but feel like Zelensky is a family member — an older brother, perhaps — who is facing existential danger each day.

 The fact that Zelensky is a Jewish leader also plays a role. I feel connected with every Jew in the world, and these days, I can’t help but feel like Zelensky is a family member — an older brother, perhaps — who is facing existential danger each day. In fact, I’ve recently started my mornings by checking the news to make sure Zelensky’s still alive. For some reason, I’ve never done this for Justin Trudeau, Emmanuel Macron or Boris Johnson.

Here’s the thing: I’m a Jew who escaped the tyranny of the Middle East, specifically Iran, in the last few decades. I’m more used to cursing certain foreign leaders and eagerly awaiting their deserved demise than biting my nails and praying they’ll live. 

But I’ve learned something as a result of the invasion of Ukraine: It’s okay to feel existential anxiety over the welfare of a foreign leader, and that anxiety, combined with extraordinary pride for Zelensky’s courageous leadership, has elevated and unified Jews worldwide. 

Lately, I’ve seen Hasidic friends share pro-Zelensky posts from atheist Jewish friends; one meme depicting Zelensky as a superhero was shared by Jewish friends from South Africa, Israel, France, Mexico, Tunisia, Turkey, Australia, Morocco, Paraguay and the United States. This man — a Jewish comedian and actor turned war hero, has managed to do the unthinkable: he’s united the Jewish world.

And it’s all thanks to the interconnectedness of global Jewry through technology and social media. Had I lived in the Middle East in the 1870s, would I have cared if Britain’s then-Jewish Prime Minister, Benjamin Disraeli, had been embroiled in a war in London? I probably wouldn’t have even known about it. 

Today, Jews not only know when we’re besieged elsewhere, but we listen to the pleas of Jewish presidents in bunkers or Jewish children lighting Shabbat candles in subway tunnels in real time, as if they’re speaking directly to us. 

Of course, we’re deeply concerned about the safety of all Ukrainians, but as Jews, we know that we’re one of the first (and never the last) casualties of tyranny. As a result, our commitment to helping the Jews of Ukraine escape to Israel has been nothing short of amazing. But there’s something else: while Jews worldwide have been worrying about Ukraine, we’ve also found consolation from certain leaders who have, at least for me, taken on the roles of wise, protective mothers and fathers. 

One of those leaders has been Natan Sharansky, who knows better than nearly every Jew on earth the evil capabilities of the Russian regime. Last week, Sharansky spoke at a Sheva Brachot prayer at the wedding of Yossi and Chana Dickstein in Israel. Sheva Brachot consists of seven beautiful blessings that are showered upon a Jewish bride and groom. They begin the night of their wedding and last seven days. 

Yossi Dickstein, the groom, lost both of his parents and his brother in a terrorist attack near the Jewish village of Carmel in 2002. His father, Yosef Yaakov Dickstein, his mother, Chana, and his nine-year-old brother, Shuvael, were shot at close range when Palestinian terrorists sprayed their car with bullets in the southern Hebron fields. The Dicksteins left behind nine orphaned children, including seven-year-old Yossi. 

I want to share Natan Sharansky’s remarks to Yossi Dickstein and his family with readers because very few were at this wedding last week to hear those words in person, myself included. His office has informed me that the following brief remarks are true and accurate:

“When I grew up in Ukraine in the city of Donetsk, there were people of various nationalities living there. Their ID certificates had the words ‘Russian’, ‘Ukraine’, ‘Georgian’, ‘Kozaki”, it wasn’t that important and there wasn’t much of a difference. One thing was important – if it had the word ‘Jewish’ written on it, that would be as if you had some disease. 

“We knew nothing about Judaism, except antisemitism and hatred towards us.  

“That’s why no one tried to replace the word ‘Russian’ or the word ‘Ukraine’, in order to get accepted to the university.  But if you had the word ‘Jewish’ on your ID papers and you could manage to change that, your chance of getting accepted was so much higher.

“I was reminded of this while watching this week how thousands of people are standing at the borders, trying to escape the tragedy in Ukraine. 

“They stand there day and night, and there’s only one word today that can help them get out: ‘Jewish’. If you are a Jew, there are Jews outside who care for you, there is someone on the other side of the border looking for you, your chance of getting out is so much higher.

“The world I knew has been turned upside down. When I was a child, ‘Jewish’ was an extraordinarily bad word, no one was jealous of us! Today at the border of Ukraine, ‘Jewish’ is an extraordinary word for good; it describes people who have somewhere to go and there’s an entire nation – their family, waiting for them outside.” – Natan Sharansky

“The world I knew has been turned upside down. When I was a child, ‘Jewish’ was an extraordinarily bad word, no one was jealous of us! Today at the border of Ukraine, ‘Jewish’ is an extraordinary word for good; it describes people who have somewhere to go and there’s an entire nation – their family, waiting for them outside.”

I hope President Zelensky hears Sharansky’s message. Yes, his nation of 44 million are counting on him, and they come first. But isn’t it miraculous and comforting to know that Am Israel — the Jewish people worldwide — are holding their arms, their doors and their prayer books wide open for the man whom we pray will welcome Passover next month in peace and freedom from the ubiquitous darkness of evil.

Tabby Refael is a Los Angeles-based writer, speaker and civic action advocate. Follow her on Twitter @RefaelTabby