I Supported the Gaza War. I Can’t Support It Anymore.

I supported this war. I don’t regret it.

After October 7, support wasn’t a political position—it was a moral response. The scale, brutality, and coordination of Hamas’s assault made one thing clear: deterrence had collapsed. Civilians were massacred, communities overrun, and the border, once believed secure, was anything but. In those days, there was no room for hesitation. Action was necessary.

But as the war dragged on, something shifted—not only on the battlefield, but in its underlying logic. The clear objectives of the early days gave way to creeping escalation, unrealistic ambitions, and mounting strategic, diplomatic, and moral costs. I still believe October 7 demanded a military response. But support for force must come with a willingness to reassess. And by now, it is evident: the current course is unsustainable.

At First, It Worked

The events of October 7 were not just a shock—they were a brutal wake-up call. For many Jews around the world, including myself, the sheer scale and coordination of Hamas’s assault exposed the fragility of our assumptions about deterrence. The immediate aftermath was not a time for debate; it was a time to act. Calls for ceasefires from international actors were detached from reality—tone-deaf to the urgency we faced.

Israel responded with force, and for a time, that force seemed to work. The military campaign, led with determination and unapologetic clarity by Prime Minister Netanyahu, delivered significant blows to Hamas’s leadership and infrastructure. Rafah, long considered a central hub for Hamas’s operations, was targeted despite mounting international opposition. Netanyahu refused to yield to U.S. pressure, and for a while, that defiance was justified.
Strategic targets were eliminated. The IDF entered Rafah and destroyed the final six Hamas battalions located there. If Netanyahu would not have stood up to international pressure, Israel would have lost the war. In subsequent months, Israel also managed to kill multiple commanders, including Mohammed Deif, the leader of Hamas’s military wing, and Yahya Sinwar, the mastermind of October 7. Justice had been served.

The War Spreads, So Does the Confusion

As the war spilled beyond Gaza, so did Israel’s military reach. In the north, the IDF executed the so-called Pager operation, effectively decapitating Hezbollah’s leadership. A swift ground offensive followed. Airstrikes struck deep into Beirut, killing Hasan Nasrallah in his bunker along with most of the group’s senior command. In a tense two-stage confrontation with Iran, Israel dismantled the country’s strategic air defense network and, with backing from a multinational coalition, successfully repelled a wave of missile attacks. Finally, this culminated in Syrian dictator Assad being ousted from power. Iran’s so-called “Axis of resistance” collapsed.

But battlefield success does not equal strategic victory—especially against a guerrilla force like Hamas. By year’s end, the limits of military force were becoming clear. Despite heavy blows, Hamas remained partially intact. The humanitarian crisis in Gaza had spiraled into catastrophe. International criticism intensified, not just from predictable quarters, but from longstanding allies. Inside the IDF, senior generals began warning Netanyahu: the military objective—to dismantle Hamas as a coherent fighting force—had been achieved to the fullest extent possible.

Plan(e)s, Promises, and No Victory

The return of President Trump to the White House reignited hope among the war’s supporters. Netanyahu argued that the Biden administration’s withholding of ammunition had prevented “total victory.” Soon, one U.S. cargo plane after another landed at Ben Gurion Airport. But even as IDF warehouses filled up, Hamas endured.

Some blamed humanitarian aid. The U.S. had previously pressured Israel to allow large quantities of aid into Gaza, which, according to Israeli intelligence, Hamas seized to maintain its control. So Israel tried the last option: it cut off all humanitarian aid—for 70 days. The war continued. Small-scale protests against Hamas occurred. But eventually, as Gaza’s supplies neared depletion and the IDF itself warned that aid was urgently needed, Israel reopened the gates to UN trucks. And Hamas was still there.

No More Excuses

Every excuse has been exhausted. Every lever pulled. And still, the enemy remains.
The truth is hard to ignore: the military option has reached its limits. Further escalation now risks not only diplomatic and moral isolation but strategic overreach. The belief that security can be bombed into existence has been tested—and failed. Netanyahu’s strength has always been crisis management, not long-term vision. But Israel no longer needs a manager. It needs a statesman. Someone capable of turning battlefield gains into political progress. Someone who can lead a transition from military force to diplomacy without compromising core security interests.

Instead, on May 21, 2025, Netanyahu made clear that the war will continue. In addition to his standing demands—that Hamas disarm and release the hostages—he added a new condition: the implementation of the “Trump Plan,” which calls for millions of Gazans to leave the Strip. No one will support this—not the U.S., not regional partners, not the international community. It is not a policy. It is a fantasy.

What We Can Still Save

And so the war grinds on. Fifty-eight hostages remain in Gaza. At least twenty are believed to be alive. Israel’s international standing continues to deteriorate. Gazans continue to suffer. And Hamas remains.

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Netanyahu’s insistence on prolonging the war is no longer about security—it’s about political survival. With his approval ratings battered, his coalition fragile, and multiple corruption trials still looming, the war has become his political lifeline. So long as the conflict continues, scrutiny is deferred, unity is imposed, and dissent is muted under the banner of national emergency. By framing any ceasefire as surrender and any criticism as betrayal, he has fused his own fate to that of the war itself. In doing so, he ensures that the costs—diplomatic, moral, and strategic—are borne not by him, but by the country.

There is no appetite for illusions. Hamas is still a threat. Israel must stay vigilant. But what we face now is not military necessity—it is political inertia masked as resolve. What comes next cannot be driven by fear of seeming weak or by a refusal to admit limits. It must be shaped by clear-eyed assessments of risk, opportunity, and long-term security.

The question now is not what we can destroy. It’s what we can build.