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

Nobody should be left behind.

Amid a shattered reality, my voice, though part of a minority, carries a potent mix of raw truth and persistent hope. I am not a radical nor a betrayer. My aliyah six years ago was an affirmation of my Zionist beliefs, a testament to our inherent right to exist. As an Israeli, I stand proud, a staunch defender of our IDF and our nation, our people—excluding, of course, the radicals and extremists. This stance, however, doesn’t dim my humanistic view. Hatred is not my chosen path.

Yet, a clear-mindedness, a beacon cutting through the fog, compels me to question: How long will we continue down a path of warfare that only fuels an endless cycle of violence and suffering? When will peace be more than a mere distant dream?

The protests in Tel Aviv, though small, shine as beacons of hope in the surrounding darkness. We humanists find ourselves at a crossroads, balancing our outrage with personal safety needs. Fear is familiar, yet silence has never been a friend.

I remember the Missing Persons Unit, established in 1973, with a vow that “no one will be left behind.” However, today, I feel the weight of a forgotten promise, a shadow cast over the ruins of Gaza. Every report of hostages still held, every story of families torn apart by waiting, makes me wonder: Where did that solemn promise go? The lives still held captive, the dreams suspended in a limbo of uncertainty and fear, are a constant reminder of the brutal reality we face.

I know my words might be uncomfortable, but the lessons from my years in planning and marketing remind me of the importance of tough but necessary conversations. Jürgen Habermas, with his theory of communicative action, taught that it’s through rational, open dialogue that mutual understanding is achieved. He believed that honest, respectful communication on even the most delicate topics could lead to consensus and an enhanced sense of diverse viewpoints.

This approach, while seemingly distant from the marketing realm, is invaluable. In dealing with ethical leaders, which, as we know, is not currently the case, my journey has consistently highlighted the importance of understanding how people communicate and interact in public spaces. This is essential for developing effective communication and branding strategies. Now, this understanding guides me as I navigate the complexities of our national conflict, seeking to build bridges where walls once stood.

The figure of Netanyahu, akin to a conductor of a discordant orchestra, plays a symphony of division and strife. He manipulates grief and sorrow while ignoring the pleas of those who suffer most. Under his leadership, humanity and empathy are sacrificed at the altar of ambition.

We all, as Israelis, find ourselves trapped in the webs of a leader and his far-right cohort and trapped by a cunning leader who knows the intricacies of power all too well. War, for him and his group, seems the only language—a dialect of destruction and despair.

Amid our harrowing reality, Hannah Arendt’s words shine as a beacon of wisdom: “Violence can be justified, but it will never be legitimate.” This thought illuminates the dark strategies of our current government, which, rather than seeking peace, gets lost in the perpetuation of violence.

Arendt challenges me to question the role of violence in governance, underscoring the need for paths that emphasize understanding, respect, and dialogue. In Israel, where the shadow of violence is ever-present, her words serve as a critical reminder that a future where power is based on consensus, not force, is possible.

I refuse to be swept along by the blind herd. I choose unpopularity over the loss of my humanity. The pain of the October 7th massacre burns within me, fueling my drive to fight against injustice and violence.

I cannot remain silent, even if my voice is a whisper among cries. Silence has never been a friend to truth, and truth, however painful, must be spoken.

In this interplay of shadows and light, where politics weaves through human lives, we have a role, not as pawns on a chessboard but as voices that can shape our future.

Our country yearns for a new chapter, one where peace is not just an empty word but a palpable reality woven with the threads of justice and empathy.

Hope, though fragile, still resides within me. In the hearts and minds of those who refuse to surrender the pursuit of a brighter tomorrow. In the end, it is our humanity that defines us, not the boundaries drawn by war and hatred.

About the Author
Gil Mildar is a 60-year-old Brazilian who made Aliyah a few years ago. He holds a Law degree from the Universidade do Vale do Rio dos Sinos in Brazil and a postgraduate degree in Marketing from the Universidad de Belgrano in Argentina. Over the years, he has had the opportunity to work in Brazil, Argentina, South Africa, and now Israel. For the past 30 years, his focus has been on marketing projects in Latin America.
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