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Gil Mildar
As the song says, a Latin American with no money in his pocket.

March to the Abyss

Settler activists dance at a conference calling for the establishment of Jewish settlements in Gaza, close to the Israel-Gaza border, October 21, 2024. (Jeremy Sharon/Times of Israel)

Security. They say that’s what they’re defending. There, on the Gaza border, on ground still drenched in the blood of Be’eri and Nir Oz, eleven ministers and fifteen Knesset members assembled. They didn’t come to mourn the dead or reckon with the massacre of October 7. They came to proclaim, with an unbroken cadence, that Gaza is now “ours.” They declare it as if staking a flag into an already ravaged land, the word driven deep like a sentence. Itamar Ben-Gvir, Bezalel Smotrich, Amichai Chikli, May Golan, Yitzhak Wasserlauf, Haim Katz, Idit Silman, Orit Strock, Amichai Eliyahu, Ofer Sofer, and Meir Porush—all together, with the calculated indifference of those who turn land into trophies and death into argument. For them, security means erasing Gaza entirely. Gaza vacant, Gaza barren, Gaza stripped of faces, stripped of life—where “peace” is an empty echo, uttered by those who’ve forgotten what it means to be human.

And can you see what they’re really after? Leading this campaign is Ben-Gvir, insisting that the Palestinian people should be “encouraged” to leave—a word wielded like a knife. Encouraged. A bitter irony, because those who hear him know that word is only a thin disguise for expulsion. Encouraging a people to vanish is not security; it’s eradication. Alongside him, Smotrich and the others lend their silent assent, their tacit endorsement. This isn’t security; it’s a calculated terror, cloaked in the language of patriotism, a logic bent on extermination.

And what of the families? Has any one of these ministers had the courage to face the families of fallen soldiers and tell them the truth? Has anyone dared look into a mother’s eyes and confess that her child did not die for Israel’s defense, but for a perverse ambition of conquest? Do they tell these families that their children are mere pawns in a game of control? And what about those who leave their homes for miluim—has anyone dared say that they’re risking their lives, not for protection, but for a fascist fantasy, for a vision that sees humanity as a mere obstruction to power?

Outside, in the rubble of the kibbutzim, the true victims stand with photos, holding the faces of those they may never see again. Families of hostages, waiting, yet barred from entry because these faces, these tears, reflect a truth the government can’t bear to confront. They represent what’s been twisted in the name of “security,” an ugly excuse for a brutality dressed as patriotism. These families know real pain, real loss, and in being denied a voice, they reveal the truth that this charade seeks to bury: patriotism is not extermination, and this so-called security is, in fact, a betrayal.

To anyone with even a shred of decency left, this gathering was a point of no return. A march into the abyss, led by those selling a nation’s soul. We watch, we see, and we know there is no turning back.

About the Author
As a Brazilian, Jewish, and humanist writer, I embody a rich cultural blend that influences my worldview and actions. Six years ago, I made the significant decision to move to Israel, a journey that not only connects me to my ancestral roots but also positions me as an active participant in an ongoing dialogue between the past, present, and future. My Latin American heritage and life in Israel have instilled a deep commitment to diversity, inclusion, and justice. Through my writing, I delve into themes of authoritarianism, memory, and resistance, aiming not just to reflect on history but to actively contribute to the shaping of a more just and equitable future. My work is an invitation for reflection and action, aspiring to advance human dignity above all.
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