On the third anniversary of October 7, New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani issued a statement condemning the atrocities committed by Hamas, acknowledging the suffering of Israeli families and mourning those who were murdered or kidnapped. Then came the familiar turn: accusations of genocide, occupation, apartheid and war crimes against Israel, along with criticism of American support for its military campaign.

The structure of the argument could almost be reduced to three words:

“Yes, but Israel…”

Wait, Mr. Mamdani. Before we proceed to the second half of that sentence, there is a question you should answer.

What would you have done three years ago today?

Imagine waking up on October 8, 2023, as Israel’s prime minister. The previous morning, Hamas had launched a devastating assault across your country’s southern border, murdering approximately 1,200 people, including children, and taking 251 hostages into Gaza. Families had been destroyed, entire communities devastated, and the security establishment had suffered a catastrophic failure. The organization responsible remained armed, organized and capable of threatening your population again.

You have a government to lead, a nation demanding protection and citizens whose lives depend on your decisions. At the same time, the families of the hostages are demanding that you bring their loved ones home as quickly as possible. What do you do?

Perhaps you would argue that Israel should have refrained from launching a major military campaign. Very well. But Hamas had not surrendered, disarmed or renounced further attacks. Indeed, a senior Hamas official subsequently declared that the October 7 assault would be repeated until Israel was destroyed.

Would you have accepted that possibility? Would you have relied on diplomacy, international pressure or negotiations? Would you have pursued an immediate hostage deal, even if it required releasing Palestinian prisoners, easing restrictions or accepting a temporary ceasefire? And what would you have done if those measures failed?

Now consider the military reality confronting you.

Hamas possessed thousands of rockets, substantial stores of weapons, an established command structure and years of experience operating within Gaza’s densely populated urban environment. Beneath the surface lay an extraordinary underground network. Israeli defense officials would eventually estimate its length at approximately 350 to 450 miles, or 560 to 720 kilometers, with thousands of access shafts. Those figures could not be independently verified, but the scale of the infrastructure was unmistakable.

Unlike Iran’s underground military facilities at Fordow and Pickaxe Mountain, protected by layers of rock, much of Hamas’s tunnel network ran beneath Gaza’s civilian infrastructure, including residential buildings and areas surrounding hospitals, further complicating any military operation.

These tunnels provided Hamas with protected routes, storage facilities and military positions. They also complicated the search for hostages. Neutralizing Hamas was therefore considerably more difficult than identifying its leadership and launching a handful of precision strikes.

How would you have weakened such an organization without confronting its underground infrastructure? How long would your alternative have taken? And how would you have prevented Hamas from rebuilding its capabilities while your government waited? Most urgently, how would you have recovered the hostages as quickly as possible without giving Hamas time to move, hide or kill them?

Above those tunnels lived more than two million Palestinians in one of the world’s most densely populated territories. Their lives mattered no less than those of Israeli civilians. Any legitimate military response had to distinguish combatants from civilians, observe proportionality and take feasible precautions to minimize civilian harm.

Yet the difficulties were immense.

Hamas operated within civilian neighborhoods, and its fighters did not always wear recognizable military uniforms. There were documented instances of Hamas urging residents to disregard Israeli evacuation instructions. Civilians also faced serious obstacles to leaving, including insecurity, limited transportation and the absence of reliably safe destinations. Many had nowhere genuinely secure to go.

The tunnels, meanwhile, were primarily military infrastructure, not a comprehensive shelter system for Gaza’s civilian population. The contrast between underground protection for Hamas and the vulnerability of civilians above ground raises difficult questions about the organization’s responsibilities toward the people it governed.

Then there was Egypt.

The neighboring Arab country resisted the prospect of receiving large numbers of displaced Gazans, citing security concerns and fears that temporary displacement could become permanent. Other regional governments likewise rejected mass displacement while condemning Israel’s conduct. Those concerns cannot simply be dismissed, but neither can the consequences of leaving civilians with so few places of refuge.

Mr. Mamdani, how would you have addressed all these circumstances simultaneously? Where would civilians have found safety while you confronted an armed organization embedded in their territory? What would you have demanded of neighboring governments? What guarantees could you realistically have provided?

And remember the hostages.

Time was running against them. The threat of executions, sexual abuse and starvation was real. Hostages were subsequently killed, credible reports of sexual violence emerged, and some released captives showed severe malnutrition after prolonged captivity. Every passing day increased the urgency of bringing them home, while military operations themselves could endanger their lives.

Negotiations might secure releases, but concessions could also leave Hamas with the means to threaten Israel again. Military pressure might weaken Hamas and compel it to release captives, yet it could also jeopardize them. Families would demand immediate action, while every proposed operation could place their loved ones in greater danger.

Would you have prioritized an immediate negotiated exchange, even at a significant political and security cost? Would you have used military pressure to improve the terms of a deal? Would you have authorized a rescue operation based on incomplete intelligence? And if no option could guarantee the hostages’ safety, how would you have explained your choice to their families?

There was no simple answer.

And Gaza was only the beginning.

As the conflict expanded, Israel confronted threats across seven arenas identified by its defense minister in December 2023: Gaza, Lebanon, Syria, the West Bank, Iraq, Yemen and Iran. These fronts did not emerge simultaneously or with equal intensity, but they progressively transformed the crisis into a regional confrontation.

Imagine the psychological burden of governing under those conditions. Intelligence assessments arriving constantly, military commanders requesting decisions, families demanding answers, foreign governments exerting pressure and millions of citizens expecting protection.

Every option carried consequences. Every delay involved risks. Every miscalculation could cost innocent lives.

Nor does criticism of possible war crimes require a critic to possess a superior military plan. International humanitarian law does not disappear when a war becomes difficult.

But political leadership involves something beyond condemnation. It requires confronting competing obligations, choosing among imperfect alternatives and accepting responsibility for the consequences.

You are the mayor of New York City, one of the world’s most consequential cities. You understand that emergencies demand decisions, often before all the information is available. And political careers do not necessarily end at City Hall. Those who aspire to greater responsibility should be prepared to explain how they would exercise it.

You have publicly advocated Benjamin Netanyahu’s arrest under the International Criminal Court’s warrant, although you acknowledged in July 2026 that New York City lacked independent legal authority to execute it. The warrant concerns allegations of grave international crimes, which Israel disputes, and it is not a criminal conviction.

But there is another question, separate from the legal proceedings.

Had you occupied Netanyahu’s office on October 8, what would you have authorized? A ground operation? Limited strikes? Negotiations without military intervention? An immediate hostage exchange, even at a substantial cost? Some combination of these measures?

What would have been your plan for the hostages, Hamas’s tunnels, Gaza’s civilians and the possibility of a broader regional war?

Perhaps you would have governed more wisely. Perhaps your decisions would have spared thousands of lives and brought the hostages home sooner. If so, the world would benefit from understanding how.

Your convictions about Palestinian rights are well documented. Your alternative deserves equally serious explanation.

We could travel backward through decades of history, revisit 1948, examine the British Mandate or go further still, to the ancient Jewish kingdoms that existed in this land approximately three thousand years ago. But no historical argument eliminates the responsibility to make decisions when a nation is attacked.

And that responsibility existed on October 8, 2023.

So, Mr. Mamdani, before we discuss Netanyahu’s decisions, before we examine your accusations against Israel and before we attempt to explain the moral foundations of your political position, there remains one question.

What would you have done three years ago today, Mr. Mamdani?

We are listening.

Then we can return to your “Yes, but Israel…”