When Concrete Human Lives Became a Political Metaphor

“We cannot begin rehabilitation without all the hostages returning.”

These words, spoken by Arbel Yehoud to Israel’s Knesset, should have been self-evident. Instead, they fell on ears that seemed to hear a foreign language.

Yehoud, who survived captivity at the hands of Hamas, was forced to explain the ABC’s of human suffering to elected representatives. She described the impossible conditions, the fragility of hope, the ongoing horror her companions still endure. The response? They listened as if receiving a briefing about some distant culture, as if she were teaching them concepts they’d never encountered.

How did we reach this distorted reality where an Israeli citizen kidnapped from her home must plead with her government to see saving its citizens as a supreme value? How did we become a society where protecting human life – concrete, specific human lives – is no longer an axiom but a subject for debate? When exactly did hostages become political pawns in a complex game?

The disturbing answer lies in public discourse that has undergone a dangerous metamorphosis. The callousness once reserved for authoritarian regimes has penetrated Israeli society’s core. This society, built on the ashes of those abandoned by the “enlightened” world, now struggles to recognize the warning signs of abandoning responsibility for its own citizens.

The central danger in current public discourse isn’t just political division, but something deeper: the transformation of concrete human suffering into abstract concepts and cold calculations. Irit Linor exemplified this chillingly when she declared that “defeating Hamas is more important than the private tragedy of 22 families.”

Private?! Nothing could be less private than citizens kidnapped from their homeland. This is a national catastrophe that strikes at the very foundation of the social contract between state and citizen.

At this crisis’s center stands Prime Minister Netanyahu, maneuvering between ideological extremes with practiced virtuosity. On one side: extremist ministers who view returning hostages as secondary to “total victory.” On the other: public and international pressure to bring the hostages home and end Gaza’s suffering.

In navigating these pressures, Netanyahu appears less focused on saving lives than on saving his political career. This enables discourse that devalues human life to occupy center stage and gain legitimacy – transforming life-and-death decisions into just another political controversy.

When hostages become metaphors and callousness replaces empathy, the state hollows out the values on which it was founded. The resulting discourse erodes citizen trust and frays the social fabric. Yehoud’s plea reveals a truth beyond the personal: you cannot heal a collective wound while part of the body still bleeds.

This callousness intensifies when applied to Gaza, where civilians are reduced to “collateral damage.” Finance Minister Smotrich boasts about the minimal food quantities he “permits” into Gaza, as if starvation weren’t a brutal weapon. He presents himself as magnanimous for allowing the humanitarian minimum that won’t cross his “red line” – while repeatedly crossing red lines of basic morality.

Israel’s control over Gaza’s borders, crossings, vital infrastructure, and water and electricity flow creates unavoidable moral responsibility. The dual control model – Israel from outside, Hamas within – that existed long before October 7th doesn’t exempt Israel from responsibility toward the civilian population. Rather, it demands serious consideration of its policies’ human consequences.

Erasing responsibility means erasing basic humanity. It slides rapidly from what seems “necessary” to what becomes “acceptable,” and from “acceptable” to what suddenly appears “moral.” This is how callousness normalizes – gradually, quietly, until the inconceivable becomes routine.

This trajectory isn’t accidental. It results from conscious choices by political leaders who find comfort in indecision, preferring to navigate between pressures rather than take clear moral stands.

When Netanyahu evades decisions on hostage deals citing “complex security considerations,” he isn’t just postponing difficult choices – he’s normalizing the idea that human lives can hang in limbo indefinitely.

Israeli public discourse must return to the concrete, the human, the individual faces behind the statistics. We must restore “responsibility” to the discussion’s center – leaders’ responsibility toward citizens, citizens’ responsibility toward society’s vulnerable, and our collective responsibility toward those affected by our actions.

This isn’t naive idealism but a pragmatic demand for democracy’s healthy functioning. States that abandon responsibility toward their citizens – and those under their control or influence – ultimately forfeit their legitimacy. Shirking responsibility isn’t just moral failure – it’s strategic failure that undermines the social contract and moral standing on which the state rests.

The path back from callousness begins with simple recognition: behind every statistic lies a human face, behind every “political metaphor” stands a person, and behind every “security consideration” are lives that can be saved – or lost.