When crisis struck Israel on October 7, 2023, entrepreneur Jordan Fried faced a pivotal moment that would transform his approach to philanthropy. Raised with the belief that “the best form of giving is when your name’s not attached to it,” Fried had previously kept his charitable work private. But the scale of human suffering demanded something more—a public mobilization of resources that would eventually deliver thousands of people to safety and millions in aid to communities in need.
“My philanthropic stuff had always been very private,” Fried explains. “I was raised in a way that you don’t talk about what you’re giving, you do it very privately, and the best form of giving is when your name’s not attached to it. And I actually think that’s an ethos I got from my Jewish upbringing.”
That private approach would soon evolve into one of the most visible humanitarian responses to the crisis, offering a compelling case study in how traditional philanthropic values adapt when confronted with urgent humanitarian need.
The Catalyst for Change
The catalyst came in the form of a desperate phone call. “A friend of mine called me and said, ‘I’m stuck. I’m Israeli. I’m stuck in San Francisco. I can’t get back to Israel. There’s no flights. Every flight is canceled. American, Delta, United, nobody’s flying to Israel right now. There’s no way for me to get back and I need help.'”
With commercial airlines suspending service to Israel, countless Israeli citizens and dual nationals found themselves stranded abroad, unable to return to check on loved ones, attend funerals, or rejoin military units. What began as helping one friend quickly revealed a much larger problem requiring immediate action.
Fried’s response was swift and decisive. Within a day of the initial attacks, he chartered an Airbus A330—a massive commercial aircraft with two aisles—and established a makeshift operations center at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Despite having no experience in logistics or humanitarian operations, Fried found himself coordinating a complex international aid mission.
“I’m sleep deprived. No experience in logistics, sitting in a Beverly Hills hotel being like, ‘okay, we have to do something,'” he recalls of those early days.
From Impulse to Operation
The magnitude of need quickly became apparent. What started as helping stranded Israelis return home expanded into a comprehensive humanitarian operation addressing increasingly desperate situations.
“We had mothers that were trying to go to a funeral of a cousin. We had someone whose child was a hostage that was trying to get back,” Fried recounts. “We had people who wanted to send breast milk for a baby who lost both parents, like a new orphan baby. Just these crazy, crazy, crazy stories.”
Within days, his team established a warehouse in Los Angeles where 17 tons of cargo arrived—helmets, vests, and other essential supplies for communities impacted by the attacks. Fried immersed himself in every operational detail, from cargo manifests to customs documentation.
“I did every aspect of this flight from the cargo list to getting bills of lading for all the cargo,” he explains. “I stood behind the counter at LAX and hand wrote tickets for people to get past TSA to get on the plane.”
This hands-on approach extended to boarding the flights himself, traveling without luggage or clean clothes to ensure cargo cleared customs properly before returning to organize subsequent missions. “I flew to Israel on the first flight, made sure it landed, made sure the cargo cleared customs, and came back to America and then did it again.”
Scaling Through Partnership
As the operation gained national attention, appearing on major news networks like Fox News, CNN, and Anderson Cooper, Fried emphasized that publicity wasn’t the goal. But the visibility helped attract additional support and resources.
The initiative evolved into an organization called Israel Friends, partnering with Ukraine Friends, a nonprofit that had already conducted similar emergency operations for Ukrainian refugees. This collaboration provided institutional structure and experience, having previously delivered $35 million in aid during the Ukraine crisis.
“I needed a nonprofit to charter the plane through,” Fried explains. “Can I use your nonprofit? Can we just create a subaccount to your nonprofit? Call it Israel Friends.”
This partnership enabled rapid scaling. One flight became four, ultimately transporting thousands of people and evolving into a sustained relief operation that has delivered over $35 million in direct aid to affected communities.
Personal Connection to Purpose
For Fried, whose grandfather survived the Holocaust before fighting in Israel’s 1948 War of Independence, the mission carried deep personal significance. The family connection created both emotional motivation and a sense of historical responsibility.
“My grandfather came to America from Israel after helping form the country and fought in the War of Independence,” he explains. “He always left us with this love and this pride for it. But that felt really at stake.”
This connection to his heritage provided motivation during the logistically challenging operation. Even with his wife seven months pregnant with their third child, Fried committed fully to the mission, driven by a desire to act meaningfully during a historic crisis.
“I knew my sons would ask me one day, ‘Dad, what did you do on October 7th when war broke out?'” he reflects. “And I wanted to be able to say, I did something. I didn’t stand still. I went to go help my people. And that makes me proud.”
The Philosophy of Giving
Through this experience, Fried’s approach to philanthropy has evolved, blending his traditional values of humility with a recognition that public leadership can amplify impact during crises.
His philanthropic philosophy now centers on several key principles:
First, fulfillment comes from impact rather than accumulation. “Making money is not fulfilling. Helping people is where the fulfillment truly comes from,” he asserts. “Why else are we here? I think Tony Robbins does it a lot, but the secret to living is giving really.”
Second, privilege creates responsibility. “Any amount of money I make in this lifetime, I plan on giving most of it away,” Fried says, referencing the Giving Pledge. “It’s just if you’re in a position to help, you should help. And what’s the point of having it again if you’re not giving?”
Third, crisis demands immediate action rather than perfect planning. “I think God blessed me. It put me in a position to be able to help my people, and who am I if I don’t do it now?” he asks.
Finally, the experience of giving creates a positive feedback loop. “With every trip we could make, it just meant such a big impact that became addicting,” he describes.
Ongoing Commitment
The Israel Friends initiative continues addressing evolving needs as the situation changes. Fried notes that hundreds of thousands remain displaced, particularly in northern Israel, due to ongoing security threats. Many soldiers deployed to Lebanon lack proper winter equipment, creating new humanitarian challenges.
“The soldiers are sent into Lebanon not planning on being there for this long,” he explains. “They’re sleeping, freezing. The Israeli army had actually given a lot of its equipment to Ukraine that they had so little left.”
While acknowledging the tragedy of all loss of life in the conflict, Fried focuses on addressing the specific humanitarian needs he witnessed. “My motive was to just try to stand in solidarity with a group of people who I could feel felt so alone,” he states.
The Evolution Continues
Fried’s transformation from private donor to public humanitarian leader reflects a broader evolution in modern philanthropy, where traditional values of anonymous giving increasingly coexist with transparent, collaborative approaches that can mobilize resources at scale during crises.
For Fried, this evolution doesn’t represent an abandonment of his foundational values but rather their adaptation to meet extraordinary circumstances. The visibility of his efforts has enabled greater impact while creating a model that others can replicate in future crises.
As the operation continues, Fried maintains that the ultimate measure of philanthropy isn’t recognition but impact. “Being able to do it here is I feel like God blessed me,” he reflects. “It put me in a position to be able to help my people, and who am I if I don’t do it now?”
His journey from private charity to public action offers a blueprint for other entrepreneurs seeking to leverage their resources and networks during humanitarian emergencies—demonstrating that when crisis demands, even the most deeply held philanthropic traditions can and should evolve.