An Israeli organization founded 35 years ago is breaking down barriers that have long excluded people with disabilities from experiencing the natural world, serving over 100,000 people annually through accessible nature programs that officials say should be a right, not a privilege.
Lotem, established in 1991 and directed today by Amos Ziv, organizes nature trips, workshops and activity groups for people of all ages with physical, cognitive, emotional and sensory disabilities. Ziv called access to nature "a necessity, not a luxury," emphasizing that everyone deserves to experience the outdoors.
Reaching Communities in Crisis
The organization operates nationwide, with offices in Yokne'am, Jerusalem and Beersheba. During times of crisis, its teams operate in over 25 locations nationwide, including hotels and kibbutzim hosting evacuees. Since Oct. 7, the organization has seen a dramatic increase in demand for its services because there is a lot more emotional distress, according to Einav Blum, Lotem's deputy director-general for education and an occupational therapist.
Lotem's nature-based retreats support survivors of trauma and terrorism, as well as soldiers suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Its "Integra-Teva" program brings together diverse groups, including Jews and Arabs, to learn ancient agricultural techniques. The organization also operates an in-service training center for professionals from the government and the private sector to better integrate people with special needs into society.
Ziv said the organization promotes empowerment, development of life skills, promotion of motor skills, and familiarization with basic concepts in nature, alongside education for tolerance and acceptance of differences. He said, "Beyond the sense of capability and equality that our travelers gain, the trips emphasize empowerment, development of life skills, promotion of motor skills, and familiarization with basic concepts in nature, alongside education for tolerance and acceptance of differences."
Infrastructure Gaps Remain
Lotem's trips take place in small groups accompanied by trained guides with experience working with a variety of disabilities. The organization has 60 workers, including paid employees and volunteers, among them young women fulfilling national service. The organization created a 1.5 km. trail at the Hashofet Stream near Yokne'am with assistance from Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael-Jewish National Fund. The path is stroller- and wheelchair friendly and includes an old flour mill, a bridge, a waterfall, wood benches and picnic tables. Ziv said a million people, more than at Masada, trek there every year.
Blum said many sites meet legal standards but are difficult for the disabled to reach. She said the quiet in nature helps people breathe deeply and that being among trees, plants and open skies is essential for mental health support. She said, "Those moments of peace help calm our racing thoughts. And when we're feeling down or anxious, a simple walk in nature can lift our spirits."
Blum said Lotem works with the Nature and Park Authority, the Antiquities Authority and others, but there is a lot of bureaucracy. She said some organizations set up one accessible picnic table and claim they do not have enough budget, and that some authorities are just lazy.
Serving Vulnerable Populations
Lotem's Valley of Peace park is in the Menashe Heights just outside Yokne'am Illit. It is a 40-acre nature reserve and historic ecological farm with a wheelchair-accessible education center. Children with disabilities can press grapes with their feet and crush olives to make oil while appreciating and connecting with nature.
The organization also runs school trips for people with special needs. Ziv said some 65% of all schools, including special-education frameworks, as well as pupils at Jerusalem's Alyn Rehabilitation Center for Children and Youth, Ilan, Shalva, Akim, and adults with disabilities, participate throughout the year. Special groups, including organizations for children at risk and women in battered women's shelters, are invited to take part.
Blum said one father told the team that his child was a different person after participating in the activities. She said there were kids who refused to speak but during the trek they said some words. She said one girl who suffered from anorexia was hospitalized in Jerusalem but was unwilling to cooperate with the doctors and nurses. The organization ran a nature club there, bringing leaves and little animals for her to see. She said the girl waited all week with anticipation for the team to come and was finally discharged in better health.
Funding Challenges Threaten Services
Lotem's annual budget is about NIS 10 million and it is currently short NIS 800,000, Blum said. She said Israeli banks donate very little and that the low dollar-shekel exchange rate has hurt the organization because most contributions are in dollars from donors abroad, while bills are paid in shekels. Participants pay only a small amount for excursions.
Ziv said the organization wants organizations, businesses and individuals to "adopt" a disabled child or an activity and to be partners, not just donors. Among the projects donors can support is the Mother Nature Program, a safe and restorative day-long outdoor experience for mothers and their children who are victims of domestic violence. It includes hiking, cooking and art workshops that help promote trust and self confidence; a weekly nature club in schools for those who cannot leave their indoor environments regularly; and class field trips.
Leadership Shaped by Experience
The chairman of Lotem's board is Sorin Hershko, 70, an Israeli hero and paratrooper who served on the assault team during the 1976 Operation Entebbe hostage rescue mission 50 years ago. He was severely wounded during the raid, sustaining a spinal injury that left him permanently paralyzed from the neck down.
Blum said she was inspired to join because both her brother and a sister are disabled, physically and cognitively.
Ziv recalled a participant named Raz, who was eight years old when he was seriously injured in a road accident. Raz was connected to an oxygen tank, in a wheelchair, and able to move only one hand. He lived in the Alyn Orthopedic Hospital and Rehabilitation Center for two years. At 18, he wanted to do national service and joined Lotem, where he taught himself English. Now in his 30s, he took the Tourism Ministry official guide's course and was licensed. He said, "Nature does not judge you. You can be whoever you are and whatever you want. That is why Lotem is so important!"
Jacob Milstein, a fifth-generation farmer from Kibbutz Merhavia in the North, said his connection with Lotem was lifesaving. He said he was looking for work outside the farm and saw an ad for a maintenance manager at the non-profit organization's Emek Hashalom farm. He wanted to work in an open space, accessible to all, close to nature and with a connection to the therapeutic field.
On Tu Bishvat, after a long day full of visitors at the Emek Hashalom farm, Milstein returned home from another fulfilling day at work, ready to sit on his terrace with a cup of coffee and enjoy the beautiful sunset. He said, "I suddenly felt something strange: I wanted to go straight, but my body went to the right side. I also began to feel restless, as if I was uncomfortable anywhere I turned." An ambulance took him to the hospital, where he had a CT scan. The doctor told him, "Mr. Milstein, you are having a stroke."
Milstein said, "I didn't notice that my hand and leg were already paralyzed, but when I tried to get out of bed, I fell to the floor, paralyzed in half of my body. I became depressed. One day at the hospital, Amos Ziv came to visit. After 10 minutes, he said: 'Jacob, your job with us is reserved for you. When you recover, you will come back to us, and together we will find the right place for you.'"
Milstein said that after a long rehabilitation process, he felt he was on the road to recovery and slowly moved from a wheelchair to a treadmill and then to a cane. He said that at first he gave lectures at Lotem as a volunteer, but after a while the director of Lotem's accessibility department asked if he wanted to be a Lotem staff member. He said it was one of the most moving sentences he had ever heard in his life.
Milstein said he went back to work as an instructor and that his physical, mental and cognitive abilities improved greatly. He said, "With all the love I had for people with special needs, and my willingness to help them, I still consider my life experience today of a person with special needs. Even when I forget about it, life reminds me." He said, "I know what people with special needs go through. I'm more aware of when they need help. I've discovered something new that I am good at, which is an amazing feeling."
Lotem was involved with the kibbutzim and moshavim on the Gaza border before the Hamas-led terror onslaught of Oct. 7. Immediately after that, the organization sent teams to evacuees in hotels and kibbutz guest houses, taking them on nature trips and vacations to help calm them.
Ziv said the most logistically complicated trip it ever ran involved older women over several days who were pushed around in wheelchairs and required liquified food, toilets at the right height, moving beds, sign-language translators and help for the blind.
Why This Matters:
Lotem's work highlights persistent gaps in public infrastructure and institutional support for people with disabilities, who face bureaucratic obstacles and inadequate funding even when legal accessibility standards exist. The organization's budget shortfall of NIS 800,000 and reliance on foreign donations vulnerable to exchange rate fluctuations underscore how essential services for vulnerable populations remain chronically underfunded. The surge in demand following Oct. 7 reveals how crises disproportionately impact those with disabilities and trauma survivors, requiring expanded mental health and community support. By serving children at risk, domestic violence survivors, and diverse communities including Jews and Arabs, Lotem demonstrates that accessible nature programs address multiple dimensions of social inequality. The stories of participants like Raz and Milstein illustrate how institutional commitment to inclusion—keeping jobs available, providing pathways to employment—can transform lives, while also revealing the fragility of such support when it depends on nonprofit goodwill rather than guaranteed public policy.