A call for compassion beyond the question of blame

By the afternoon of October 7, when the scope of what had happened was becoming clear – I, like most Israelis, was caught up in a maelstrom of emotions: shock, horror, confusion, fear, disgust, loathing, despair. Over time, as the reports came flooding in about the murders, rapes,  and abductions – which, insanely, were confirmed by the video recordings captured by the perpetrators themselves and broadcast to Israel and the world, our hearts were rent asunder time and time again. The horrific footage and the accounts of the victims’ ordeals in kibbutzim, forests, bases, safe rooms, and shelters evinced malevolence and inhumanity that were incomprehensible. My mind reeled at the number of Israelis murdered so viciously, and the fact that hundreds more had been abducted to Gaza was sickening. October 7th and its aftermath were a turning point for me and all of Israel, a watershed, a “before and after,” both regarding the nation’s history and our sense of reality and what could or could not occur here in Eretz Israel.

Clearly, a major war was looming. I wasn’t born here, didn’t live through the Yom Kippur War, and hadn’t experienced a major war like those I’d heard of or read about. However, I was certain that what had happened was unprecedented, and even if terrorists rather than a conventional army had attacked Israelis, this round wouldn’t end in a limited military operation like “Cast Lead” (Oferet Yetzukah) or “Pillar of Defense” (Humat Magen). There would be no limited operation. While I have never seen war as a genuine solution to conflicts, it was, nevertheless, obvious that Israel had no choice but to respond – and to do so with every ounce of its might. Such evil had to be confronted and eradicated – our survival depended on it. The thought of our hostages in such savage hands was intolerable. So by the time the battle was being taken to Gaza, everyone knew what lay in store, including Hamas – for Israel’s retaliation had always been part of its strategy.

Foreseeing the devastating consequences for Gaza and its inhabitants, I pitied those who had had little or nothing to do with the atrocities. Inevitably, there was going to be great suffering in Gaza. And while it is necessary to eliminate terrorists and the doers of horrific deeds, it is tragic that so many civilians have had to suffer. Long before a single bomb had fallen on Gaza, it was clear that many civilians would be wounded or killed as a consequence of Hamas’s actions. While I knew Israel had no choice but to nullify the threat posed by Hamas and rescue our hostages from their underground dungeons, I pitied those paying the price for those monstrous attacks. We could not abide a situation in which terrorists could murder Israelis with impunity and carry off our citizens, wounded, dead, or alive, to torture us psychologically, extort concessions, and weaken us to the point of existential peril. Still, I prayed we would respond in a way that corresponded to our national values and our common sense of morality. 

Was it wrong to pity Gazans when many had done such terrible things to my people? Many Israelis seem to feel this way, reasoning that the totality of this war precludes subtleties such as the distinction between combatants and non-combatants. “There is no such thing as a non-combatant” has become a common refrain, and the definition of “enemy” has become ever more inclusive. By analogy, many Israelis point to the Allies’ war against the Nazis and America’s war against the Japanese (or, more recently, the Taliban), arguing that the Gaza war is comparatively humane, as the ratio of combatants to civilians killed is relatively low, and this despite the unprecedented complexity of Gazan’s urban environment with its underground tunnel labyrinth and Hamas bases “strategically” located under hospitals, schools, mosques, and UNRWA facilities. If scores of German civilians had to die to halt Hitler’s Nazis, one would be hard-pressed to argue that killing them was immoral. Hamas’s evil is certainly no less in degree than that of the Nazis, even if the scope of the threat is local rather than global. This argument has sound logic, and I do not aim to refute it. However, I believe one can both feel that a war is justified and still believe that the utmost caution in planning and execution should be employed to limit civilian casualties. I call for compassion for all those affected by this conflict on both sides of the fence.

This is not a popular stance these days. Has compassion become a casualty of war? Saying that the war has been tragic for all exposes one to charges of naivety or even a deficiency of patriotism – as if even a modicum of empathy for Gazans means a failure to understand civilians’ complicity in the events of October 7th. Calling the deaths of thousands of Palestinian children a terrible tragedy often evokes the reply that such deaths are the inevitable result of Hamas’s strategy of using civilians as human shields. While this may be true, it does not contradict the previous statement. These notions are not mutually exclusive. While I hold Hamas to blame for this catastrophe, I believe we must acknowledge the fundamental tragedy of civilian deaths and do everything in our power to prevent them.

Some would ask whether compassion for the enemy is appropriate in the midst of an existential war. But are we at war with Gaza or with Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and others like them? Many Israelis reject the term “noncombatant,” reasoning that Palestinians’ failure to rebel, distance themselves from Hamas’s ideology, or even criticize Hamas implies complicity – but to my mind, this echoes the jihadist’s justification for acts of terror.

In the name of full disclosure, I believe that the actual complicity of many of Gazas’ civilians on October 7th needs to be avowed. It is a proven fact that many “civilians” were complicit in the events of October 7th, and many more knew what was going to take place but did nothing to stop it. The writing was on the wall, and Gazans knew better than the Israeli security agencies charged with anticipating such a possibility. They knew about the tunnel networks and must have realized that their purpose was to provide Hamas shelter from airstrikes and the invading Israeli forces. They knew that Hamas planned on taking hostages. Gazans turned out in crowds to herald the terrorists and to taunt and abuse the hostages. Many took their own hostages with an eye toward personal gain. Many had previously collaborated with Hamas by supplying information on the border communities raided and pillaged on October 7th. Numerable atrocities were committed by “ordinary” Gazans who murdered our citizens, raped our women, and committed unspeakable atrocities. 

And yet, “many” is not “all,” and we must be wary of descending into the abyss of the jihadist’s rationale that there is no difference between the soldier and the civilian. Unlike the terrorists seeking to destroy us, Israelis distinguish between combatants and civilians. We must show compassion and concern for civilians – particularly children. We cannot let our trauma blind us or inure us to Palestinians’ suffering, even if, to a large extent, they have brought that suffering upon themselves. We must be more humanitarian toward Palestinian civilians than their own leaders are, as those leaders see them merely as a means to an end. While our grief, shock, and pain have been overwhelming and the hostages’ ordeal intolerable, we are not exempt from the obligation to act with compassion and concern – even for those who brought this catastrophe upon us all. As Israelis and as Jews, we must transcend our pain and acknowledge others’ humanity, guarding our hearts from hatred and never becoming what we despise. While seeking security and justice, we should not rejoice in killing. Military triumphs may bring relief, but we must be mindful of their aftermath and commit ourselves to the purity of aims and means. 

We must respect the sanctity of life even during an existential struggle. Remaining true to our collective morality is an existential matter for us as a people because this morality is at the core of our being. We must seek to be just and compassionate in every circumstance. Thus, while defending ourselves against Hamas, we must protect Palestinian civilians. Eliminating Deif, Nasrallah, and Sinwar is appropriate and justified, but we can never be careless about the collateral damage caused when carrying out such strikes. The Nukbah commanders who murdered and raped our children should reap the fruit of their deeds. Yet, civilians with no crimes on their hands deserve our concern, our sympathy, and our compassion. If kill we must, we need to distinguish between terrorists and civilians, exercising caution in planning and executing missions. While this may be difficult, it is a sacred task. War brings contradictory moral obligations – defending our citizens and soldiers while limiting harm to civilians. While these obligations can seem contradictory, they must remain our ideal. We cannot be nonchalant regarding civilian suffering and death.

There must be transparency concerning the behavior and actions of soldiers and the actions of the security establishment. There is no contradiction between the IDF’s ethos of bravery and sacrifice and Jewish values of compassion and humanity. The notion that unrestrained violence could yield a beneficial result is a dangerous illusion, for applying force without conscience only diminishes our humanity. From there, the descent into hatred is swift and steep, as we have seen repeatedly in this region. Such hatred, while initially directed outwards at external threats, ultimately circles around to encompass one’s own society, igniting a conflagration of internecine destruction. Accusations and blame cause strife, as we label “enemies” and “traitors” as all those with beliefs that contradict our own. We cannot allow this hatred to spread within our bowels like cancer.  

Israel’s political and military leaders bear a great moral burden, which requires them to be subject to public criticism and scrutiny. Even if the IDF is the most moral army in the world, we must never become complacent concerning the standards soldiers are expected to abide by. The prime minister has articulated Israel’s war goals as the destruction of Hamas and the return of our hostages. The government must provide precise definitions regarding those goals (particularly what constitutes “destroying Hamas”) and its vision of Gaza’s future. What is Israel’s end game? Can we – need we – seek to eliminate every single person in Gaza who has ever been affiliated with Hamas? When does that become a Pyrrhic victory? Our leaders should articulate a clear strategic vision and be prepared to clarify, elaborate, and respond to criticism without expecting a priori support. The alternative is ongoing discord within an already polarized society, further weakening Israel spiritually and morally. Criticism should not be deemed a lack of patriotism – a plethora of opinions is a blessing, and the implication that opposition is treason is ominous and disturbing.

As war is not an end unto itself, the public should be appraised of the precise aims of this war – what needs to take place for it to be declared over, what options are available for redeeming the hostages, and, if push comes to shove – what has a higher priority – returning the hostages or destroying Hamas? While a consensus exists that we must restore our security, ultimately, a new climate must be engendered if we are one day to achieve the dream of living in peace with our neighbors. Even if peace is not currently viable, it must remain our long-term goal. We should not accept a destiny of endless war, even if we must always be prepared to fight. For if we forsake the possibility of peace and live by the sword alone, how can we serve as a light among the nations? 

It may take generations – it may take a hundred years – but the nation of Israel must hold steadfast to our belief that peace will one day come to this land. Thus, while one hand clutches the sword, the other must be ready to extend the olive branch.  Victory cannot be achieved by force alone – the “defeated” do not abide by their defeat and strive to overturn prior outcomes. True victory is achieved by making a friend of the foe, as the United States did with Japan after WWII. Furthermore, eradicating evil is not achieved only by destroying one’s enemies – it requires differentiating between irremediable and circumstantial evil, which is susceptible to transformation if the right means are employed over time.

This war has become a prolonged struggle, and we must preserve our strength and morale. To this end, we must be united morally and spiritually, firm in our belief that we are acting according to our deepest beliefs, central among which is the belief that we must love others as we love ourselves. Even if we view this commandment as extending first and foremost to other Jews, on a deeper level, I believe we intrinsically know that this commandment truly extends to all humanity, Palestinians included. This may be a lot to ask from Israelis a year after October 7th, but we have no choice: we must never succumb to hatred and apathy and never view others’ suffering with equanimity.

Judaism upholds the sanctity of life. This fundamental belief underlies Western ideals such as human rights, the Western justice system, and even war-time morality. Moral obligation shows strength – not weakness. A chasm exists between those who grew up with Western ideals and those who grew up in a climate of fanatical hate, a hatred that can hardly be fathomed. Can we expect those weaned on hatred from birth not to carry out rape and murder? Can we expect them to rebel against their leaders in the face of indoctrination reinforced by the threat of ruthless punishment for disloyalty or disobedience? There is no excuse or justification for the acts committed on October 7th. Still, in light of this chasm, I call on Israel to act only according to our own values and beliefs, which derive from our knowledge of the sanctity of life, and not to stoop to the standards of a depraved and benighted culture.

War is Hell, and the suffering in this war is horrific. And while Israel’s leaders have a moral imperative to defend their citizens, the necessity for self-defense should never come at the expense of basic human sympathy and compassion. We may require tanks and bombs to defeat our enemies, but we must not fall in love with their power. They are merely a necessary evil and do not represent our essence. As every decision taken in war is a matter of life and death, each decision must be carefully considered – killing should never be a matter of course. Soldiers’ lives are sacred, and we must do all we can to protect them. Yet we can never forget that the civilians whose lives are being destroyed in the crossfire are also human beings – as real and as human as ourselves. We must view their fate with empathy and concern, even as we act to protect our civilians and soldiers, see to our security, and redeem our hostages. I pray we can achieve these sacred tasks while preserving our humanity.