Losing our humanity

This war is not has a physical cost -- it also has a soul cost. Who are we becoming?

Jon Goldberg Polin, father of the late hostage Hersh Goldberg Polin, often says that the cost of NOT bringing home the hostages is greater than whatever the perceived cost would be of bringing them home. He says that when we put our children to sleep at night, we are supposed to be able to say to them, “Whatever happens to you in life, I’m here for you. I will always protect you.” But when the country has made a conscious decision to NOT bring back the hostages, we lose all ability to say those words to our children. And that loss is incalculable. How do you measure the loss of basic trust in one’s home, one’s community, one’s people? How do you measure the price of losing one’s basic connection to the world? This isn’t just about the hostages, but about who we are as people, who we have become as a result of our own behavior

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The new sign across from the Knesset, “Desolation Square” or “abandonment square”, where hostage families and their allies have been camped out for months and hunger striking, begging for a hostage deal. The sign says it all.

I would add that it’s not just the situation of the hostages that has led the nation to feel abandoned by its leaders and generally lost and hopeless. I think that the entire situation of an endless war with no end in sight, no real strategy, no negotiations, and a callous disregard for human life — both “ours” and “theirs” — that is having a devastating effect on our humanity.

A few items [TRIGGER WARNINGS]:

Suicides among soldiers

Two lone-soldier reservists committed suicide in recent weeks. According to HaDassah Sabo Miller, mother of a lone soldier diagnosed with PTSD after serving over 300 days in reserve duty, soldiers struggling with these issues are not being take care of by their government. She is leading a fight to change this, but there is a long road ahead. In another similar incident, Asaf Dagan, a 38-year-old officer who had served 140 days of reserve duty this year committed suicide on his way to his base around a month ago. The army did not want to recognize that he died due to injuries sustained during his service. His family protested. PTSD must be recognized as an injury resulting from this war. The family went to the High Court, and this week the court handed down a compromise, forcing the army to recognize him as a fallen soldier, though he will not be buried in Mount Herzl. The family finally buried him. But the issue of how this war is impacting soldiers — and whether the government is taking any responsibility for them — has not at all been laid to rest.

Soldiers losing their souls

On the other end of the spectrum are the soldiers who respond to the violence by going all in. Zionist culture has always revered that kind of selfless dedication as a badge of honor. But in this war-with-no-end in which soldiers are fighting an enemy that is not even there and targeting homes, schools, and civilian populations, those values have become distorted.

A chilling report on IDF soldiers in this week’s Washington Post is an appalling illustration of what happens to soldiers who lose a bit of their humanity. The report collected social media posts from soldiers recording things they are doing in Gaza that they are exceedingly proud about — and it’s not good. Really, really not good. I can’t even. You have to see it for yourself. I was debating about whether to even share it here because it is so devastating — not only to the Gazans who are on the receiving end of the brutality, but also to us, Israelis, who at some point have to be able to look at ourselves in the mirror. Can we? Will we ever be able to be human again after all this? But as excruciatingly painful this report is to view, I feel like we need to face it anyway. We must.

Everyday violence

I’ve been saying for a while that the impacts of this endless, inhumane war can be felt in everyday life in Israel. I’ve been noticing for months that driving has become increasingly treacherous. The speeding, the tailgating, the bullying, the practice of someone coming up behind you at warp speed and blinding you with their lights until you move — all of this has been on the rise, from my imprecise observations. It’s not a statistical analysis, so I’ve been testing out my theory in conversations with people. So far everyone who I have asked about this, about whether the violence on the roads seems to be getting worse, has emphatically agreed. And some soldiers I was talking to were also talking about how the war affects their driving, and their everyday lives.

A few days ago, I was going shopping, and I went to park in front of the shopping center. I was slowing down looking for a spot while the guy behind me was honking. It was a narrow street, there was noplace to go, and a car to my right was pulling out. During the 30 seconds that it took from the time the guy behind me arrived until I pulled into the spot, he would not stop honking. When I finally pulled in, he rolled down his window and started violently screaming at me and cursing me. I’ve been living in Israel for a long time, and I am familiar with Israeli tempers and driving habits, but this was a first. It was, you know, a little scary. But also, I think, a sign of the times.

The endless brutality enmeshed in a political culture that spends all its time justifying it is taking a toll on our souls. And I’m not sure how we’re ever going to return from this.

“Either we all live or we all die”

I watched a powerful webinar on the conflict with Dr. Rula Hardal and May Pundak, co-directors of A Land For All, a wonderful organization advocating for a long-term solution to the conflict, facilitated by Dr. Dahlia Scheindlin. A few of their insights have really stuck with me.

One moment was Rula Hardal’s very real fear that her people are in the process of disappearing. The reality on the ground in Gaza is absolutely horrific, and her terror was palpable. That has stuck with me.

Another moment was when May Pundak said, “Either we all live or we all die.” I thought that was very insightful and true in terms of the long-term impacts of this war. I hope that people carry that message with them.

We are all human beings. That is the whole Torah. Everything else is commentary.

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