A Prosecutor’s Perspective on Israel’s Truth War
I returned to Israel this month for the first time in thirty-seven years. I was sixteen when I last visited—wide-eyed, curious, and instantly connected to a country that felt deeply familiar. Then life unfolded: school, career, children, responsibilities. Decades passed.
Returning now as part of a delegation and mission trip reminded me how much I miss Israel and how urgently its story needs honest telling. Israel remains the only country where I don’t have to spell or repeat my name—so sababa—and that moment of belonging set the tone for a week filled with purpose and clarity.
As a career prosecutor and the granddaughter of two Holocaust survivors, I viewed this trip through both personal and professional perspectives. What I observed was a nation fighting two battles: one physical, and one for the truth.
The Evidence Problem: When Accuracy Turns into a Tactical Weakness
In meetings with officials from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and in talks with soldiers, families, and journalists, one common theme kept popping up:
Israel is losing the information war, not because it lacks facts, but because it insists on verifying them before speaking.
As a prosecutor, I understand this approach. We don’t file charges without evidence. But in a digital world, accuracy progresses slowly while outrage spreads instantly.
Groups hostile to Israel upload videos, hashtags, TikToks, and reels within minutes—often misleading or fabricated. These clips reach millions before Israel completes its first round of verification. By the time accurate information appears, the narrative is already set.
A widely circulated example was the headline claiming the IDF struck a hospital and killed 500 people. Hours later—after reviewing evidence—it became clear the explosion was caused by a misfired Palestinian Islamic Jihad rocket. The correction reached only a small portion of those who saw the original claim.
Another example involved The New York Times using a photograph of a child with known cerebral palsy to imply “starvation.” The image went viral long before the truth surfaced.
This illustrates an ecosystem built for viral spread—where complexity is seen as a hassle.
As someone whose work relies on evidence—not emotion—I find this troubling. Public perception is increasingly influenced by quick, emotionally charged clips rather than verified facts. The impact extends beyond social media; it affects policy and global understanding.
Moral Constraints with Genuine Human Costs
Another theme in our briefings was that Israel operates under some of the strictest moral and legal standards of any military. Operations require review and oversight. Civilian casualties are investigated. Strikes are evaluated for proportionality and necessity.
Their opponents ignore all of these rules.
The result is a painful paradox: Israel loses soldiers because it adheres to international law, while its enemies gain sympathy because they violate it.
When Israel pauses operations to evacuate civilians, it faces criticism for delays. When terrorists fire from hospitals, schools, or homes, outrage is often directed not at the violators of humanitarian law but at the country trying to uphold it.
This wasn’t just theoretical—it was evident on the faces of the soldiers we encountered, many of whom were barely older than my own children.
Bearing Witness to Loss and Survival
One of the most difficult parts of the trip was visiting the Nova music festival site—an open field marred by violence. The photos, memorials, and names carved into the area serve as painful reminders of the human toll of dehumanization.
We also met hostage families—parents, siblings, and children—who lived in a state of limbo between hope and despair. Across political lines, Israelis expressed deep gratitude to the United States for its role in securing hostage releases.
At Yad Vashem, I stood before the name of Janina Zawadzka, the Polish Catholic woman who hid and saved my grandmother. Without her bravery, my family would not exist.
A Surprising Sense of Safety
People often asked if I was afraid. The truth is the opposite: I felt unexpectedly safe. There is a collective vigilance in Israel—a shared responsibility woven into daily life. Security is visible yet seamlessly integrated, creating an atmosphere rooted more in calm than fear.
Why This Matters Now
This trip reaffirmed something I know professionally but felt more deeply in Israel: truth doesn’t defend itself. It requires advocates and discernment—especially in a world where falsehoods spread quickly.
I won’t let another thirty years pass before returning. I’ll be back in June.
My hope is that more people—regardless of political views—pause before sharing headlines or viral posts. Fact-check. Question. Seek evidence.
In a moment when lies travel faster than truth, the truth needs all of us.
