The natural, automatic desire on a rainy and gray day like this is to cover your head and make the outside world disappear. To disappear and fall silent. That's also what I personally have done on most days since October 7 – I've remained silent.
Sometimes I cried, sometimes I lived my life, and occasionally I even enjoyed it. Sometimes I managed to push down to the bottom of my awareness the thought of the hostages who are rotting in torment, and of the killing and destruction in Gaza and the suffering of its inhabitants.
These thoughts returned to the guise of pangs of conscience, melancholy thoughts about the fine difference between me and an average bourgeois Moscovite woman who is able to carry on with her life despite the knowledge that her country is waging a cruel war against a neighboring country. The difference exists, I tell myself, but occasionally it becomes blurred.
On such a day you want to disappear, to be crushed under the weight of the disaster: 21 soldiers killed in the blink of an eye. The anger and helplessness bring us back to our state of mind on October 7. At the time, it seemed that Hamas hadn't left us any choice: We have to react, and powerfully. We have to destroy those who came to destroy us. And the price? The price is irrelevant.
Israeli soldiers carry the flag-draped casket of reservist Elkana Vizel during his funeral at Mt. Herzl military cemetery in Jerusalem, Tuesday.Credit: Ohad Zwigenberg /AP
On Monday, after the report of the death of the 21 soldiers, the defense minister was trying to recreate that message, which was then seen as the default choice: "The fall of our fighters is an order to achieve the goals of the war." But what 109 days ago was seen a sober decision – in other words, an order to keep fighting the war – now seems like an intoxication.
These aren't conjectures. These are facts evidenced by the names of Yotam Haim, Alon Shamriz, Samer El-Talalka, who were killed by friendly fire, of Ron Sherman, Nik Beizer and Elia Toledano, who were killed when the Israel Defense Forces assassinated Hamas commander Ahmed Randour, and of Itay Svirsky, who was apparently murdered by terrorists after IDF shelling nearby.
The funeral of Alon Shamriz on Sunday, one of the three hostages killed by Israeli fire.Credit: Tomer Appelbaum
These aren't conjectures. Israel doesn't deny the figures provided by the Hamas-controlled Gaza health ministry. The figures are considered reliable by the international community and have been scientifically examined in two articles published in the medical journal The Lancet. The pictures coming out of Gaza and the voices of those who are there speak for themselves.
And as a matter of course, the war is killing more and more soldiers. Its continuation won't bring back the fallen, but it will lead to more and more deaths.
Smoke billowing over Khan Yunis on Tuesday.Credit: AFP
Even if we assume that during additional long months of war, the IDF will succeed in totally defeating Hamas – which at the moment looks doubtful – the hatred of Israel in the Gaza Strip and the West Bank is only expected to continue increasing, and the appearance of twin organizations, the children of Hamas, is only a matter of a very short time. So if we haven't learned the lesson in 57 years of occupation nor in the 110 nightmarish days since October 7, we'll continue to learn it in a cruel and difficult way in the bad years to come.
Protesters hold signs that read in Hebrew and Arabic, "Only peace will bring security."
In spite of the natural and automatic desire, continuing to entrench ourselves in the depths of despair will lead to only one result: a continuation of the hopelessentrenchment in the mire of Gaza, a continuation of the killing.
The only option left for us now is to stop remaining silent, and to oppose the war. To demand its end. To demand the signing of a deal that will return all the hostages who are still alive and the bodies of the dead. To demand peace – in a loud voice and against all the odds. To come out of the trenches and to shout.