Wednesday, January 03, 2024
Disclaimer: the views expressed here are solely those of
the author, weekly Judean Rose columnist Varda Meyers Epstein.
On October 7 at 6:30 a.m., Meir Adoni [died]. A minute later, a new Meir was born. A Meir that repents his sin. A Meir who is ashamed that he was part of the delusion of the delusional Left who don’t understand that we are surrounded by extreme Islam monsters who have no interest in peace and normalcy, and only want to burn us alive.
He ended by asking forgiveness from Israel and God for having identified as left-wing. [1]
The kibbutzim where the slaughter occurred, by all accounts,
lean to the political left. Many or even most of the kibbutz survivors would
tell you they were happy when the settlers were expelled from Gush Katif. They
thought the expulsion would bring peace. That was their ideology.
And their belief was unshaken, even when there were sirens
and rockets and days and nights in safe rooms. They wouldn’t stop educating
their children in the ways of peace. They kept on helping to transport sick children
from Gaza into Israel for treatment in Israeli hospitals. The good farmers
believed that in the end, goodness would prevail and there would be war no
more.
Now in the aftermath of October 7, there is deep disillusionment.
“We are the peaceful people,” they had thought. “No one would harm us,” as if
pureness of heart were a kind of shield.
They couldn’t have imagined a people so cruel. No one could. Only what happened on October 7 could have broken the hope that peace would yet win out with the people of Gaza. The survivors now understand that Gaza is filled with monsters, and that there is no possibility of peace with the “Palestinian” people. That about-face from left to right, is a common theme in the emerging survivor testimonies.
Nir Shani of Kibbutz Be’eri, managed to hold the door of his
safe room shut, as terrorists shot up his Kibbutz Be’eri home and then set it
ablaze. His 16-year-old son Amit was taken to Gaza, and held hostage. Amit
Shani was released from Hamas captivity on November 29, as part of a temporary
ceasefire deal, 19 days after his father Nir, gave testimony on the October 7
attacks. Nir says that for the people of Be’eri, the peace movement was their
“second religion.” Now Nir knows that peace cannot be achieved at this time,
and that it is unrealistic to believe otherwise [emphasis added]:
We do need everybody, everybody to take responsibility of their previous actions and those who led to this situation, because I think it could be prevented and but yeah it—it's complicated now with the Palestinians, and their education is to hate us so badly and the hope for peace I think, no longer can exist after what they did.
We're Jewish, but we're not really religious in the kibbutz. And you can say that our second religion was the peace movement. Like every celebration we were singing a peace song and wishing for peace and oh, if we just do another effort, it would come.
But we don't have any partners from the Palestinian side to—to reach that point. They hate us so badly and [are] not willing. And there is no peace movement [on] the Palestinian side. Not at all. They're just saying, “Yeah, we want to kill them all. We want to send them away.”
So it would take another generation or two with great effort in education to change that. If at all. I think after what they did, we can't stay neighbors any longer. And there must be a certain solution to the problem.
. . . the western world [sees] the Palestinian in a very romantic and maybe even childish way. I think we really, really wanted to live by them . . . and have peace with them, but they’re not cooperating about it. And the western world expects us to behave by certain rules of engagement that are not [the way of] the Middle East. It's like, based on the knight [battles] in [medieval] Europe.
But here it so different, as you could see in October 7th, and we have to protect [ourselves]. We have no other choice, and I wish it would be different, but for the time being, that is the situation. We have to do whatever is necessary to protect [ourselves].
I mean, the—“the occupation,” “the occupation” all the time. It's not something that we want to do, it's just something that you have to do because otherwise they would be jumping to our throats and kill us. So we have no other choice but to do that and in the most moral way that we can, I think. I mean, we really wish [there was] another way to solve the problem, but that's the situation. That's the reality we live in.
The world should understand that and demand the Palestinians to change their ways and stop supporting [them], because they get a lot of support and it's not helping to solve the problem.
Tali Enoshi-Arad, 37, huddled in the safe room of her home
in Kibbutz Holit for hours on that bloody day in October, along with her
husband and three-year-old daughter. The Enoshi-Arad family had left the big
city for a “quieter” life on this kibbutz situated close to the Gaza border.
Now Tali contemplated putting her hand over her little girl’s mouth to keep her
quiet so the terrorists wouldn’t hear and discover them, bringing to mind
tragic stories from the Holocaust, of mothers desperately trying to still a
baby’s cry, and smothering them in the process. The people on Holit were simple
farmers. All they wanted was to raise their children in peace. But now she
knows that will never be [emphasis added]:
People from Gaza [used] to come in to Israel daily and work in our communities, and some people had very close connections with them um, and just thinking about the fact that this was the result—obviously they are also prisoners in their own city, because they're being uh, held [hostage] by their own government, who doesn't have any care for their safety. They just want to live up to their diabolic, diabolical uh, I guess goals, murdering Jews, killing the—destroying the State of Israel. It's in their [Hamas Charter], but these were not military installations. These were peaceful communities.
We had no form of retaliation, we had no form of attack, we had no objectives, no . . . no um, offense—barely defense. We were just there to grow some potatoes and raise our kids in peace and you could, you would think that would have been enough, but what they did when they went in, was nothing short of deplorable atrocities.
Hadas Eilon, lived on Kibbutz Kfar Aza, a farming community,
from the age of five until the age of 30, when she deemed it time to leave the
nest and go out on her own. Her mother still lives there, along with her
siblings and their own families. She didn’t live there anymore, but on October
7, Hadas was there with one of her two daughters, for an extended family
gathering. Having grown up among the peace-seekers of a rural community, Hadas
truly believed that if only people spoke with and really listened to each other,
there could be peace. She still wants to believe that—or so it seems—but she is
having to adjust her perceptions.
Now she knows: not all, and perhaps many, or even most Gazans
want peace. The rest want death. It is hard for Hadas to come to terms with
this reality. It appears to help Hadas come to terms with this reality by
mentally separating Gazans and assigning them to one of either two groups:
terrorists and “Palestinians.” This approach does not appear to give her
complete satisfaction; it does seem to give her hope and a way to move forward
[emphasis added]:
I am a person who strongly believes in communication and human relations. Hearing that drugs were found on them helped me understand the animals that they were, and at the same time, it was always so difficult for me to understand extreme people, psychopaths. I mean, it's impossible to understand. Extreme people, psychopaths, people who want others to die, that... that I can't understand.
But I also have a hard time generalizing. I also know that there are people, there are Palestinians who want peace. I think that we have a . . . completely impossible situation here. But in this completely impossible situation, something terrible is happening. And again, I was never in favor of occupation, and I always really have conversations and everything, but when there is one side, and I'm not saying that we don't have extremists either, but they don't rule. When there is one side . . . that has a job of destroying and killing and abusing, and when I hear the phone call of the Palestinian who called—a terrorist, I won't say Palestinian, because it's a terrorist—I don't want to generalize Palestinians in any way. A terrorist who calls his parents and boasts that he murdered ten Jews. It's not human, it's not human behavior, as far as I'm concerned, they don't . . . do not deserve any forgiveness or any respect as human beings, because they are not.
So I am ready to make peace with Palestinians and humans who have a heart and family and children. But with terrorists and human animals, I'm not ready to make peace. And if someone wants to kill me, I will kill them first.
Natali Yohanan is a 38-year-old mother of two boys. What
happened to her family on October 7, in their home on Kibbutz Nir Oz, and what
happened to their neighbors, relatives, and friends, killed her faith in
humanity. She no longer believes that peace is possible.
Not in a world where a mother of children can treat another
as she, Natali, was treated by a Gazan mother of children, a civilian who
infiltrated her home on that terrible day. Natali was shocked into reality by
this monster’s cruel behavior toward her and her two sons. The Washington
Free Beacon featured Natali’s story in “Netflix
and Kill: How a Palestinian Woman Took Over an Israeli Family's Home on Oct. 7,”
[emphasis added]:
We had people in the kibbutz who are very involved with the Palestinian, um people. We had one person he's in Gaza right now, he’s kidnapped, that he drove sick kids from Gaza to the hospitals in Israel. We're a very peace-loving community. Like, the country, they always make fun of us that we're very, like, people-loving and we want peace, and in Israel not everyone feels the same, but we don't feel the same, anymore.
I always told my son, “There are kids just like you in Gaza. They just want to go to school, and just want to live, and just want to be happy and be free,” and that's what I thought before. It's very hard for me as a mother to think about a woman who came to my home and saw the pictures of my kids and still came to, to steal and to terrify my kids, and the first thing she did is to open my [electric box] and [turn] off the electricity. Just in the safe room.
So she sat and watched TV, and my kids—we had no water, no food, no air conditioning. It's the middle of the summer. It was so hot.
Like she saw my kids’ pictures on the walls. She knew there's a family inside—like terrified kids. I think that she's a mother as well, because she took my kids’ clothes, and she took my clothes, and she took, um, she took my credit card, and then she went back to Gaza, and she, she went to the supermarket and she bought . . . I got a list of the things she bought.
It broke my faith that people are good. It’s . . . I never thought that a woman would do that. Like men? Yes. Soldiers? Yes. Hamas terrorists? Yes. I knew they were very cruel and very driven, but I never thought a common people—kids and women—would participate in things like that and it broke my faith in the goodness of people, but especially people from Gaza, because I really—I really believed that the women and children were just—they were kidnapped by Hamas terrorists.
I really believed that Hamas kidnapped Gaza, and um, I don't anymore. I think they are participating. I think in that morning [Hamas] told them, “We are going to do this, who wants to come in?” or they invited people they trust and they told them, “You can take whatever you want. You can take. You can plunder. You can steal, and we'll keep you safe,” and they told themselves, “Why not?”
Why not? Like I'm a woman. I'm a mother. I'm a teacher. I work with kids. I believe that all kids are good. All kids are good, good. No one is born bad. No one is born a terrorist and I feel very guilty that I raised my kids in a place that [wasn’t] safe.
I believed that I'm safe. I believed my kids are safe. I really believed it.
Like, we have this sense of, we want revenge, which is a horrible, horrible feeling, but I find myself showing my son videos of houses being bombed in Gaza, because I want to show him that Israel is still strong. I want to show him that the army is strong—that someone is protecting us, because he doesn't feel it anymore, and something in his faith was broken.
It is broken. We don't believe in anyone, anymore. We don't believe in the country. We don't believe in the army. We don't believe in ourselves. We don't believe in in Gaza. We don't believe in the world. We don't believe in anyone who will come to help us, and it's, um, like everything we believed was shattered in that moment.
I don't want Hamas to exist anymore. I want the . . . the normal, the, the, the good people in Gaza to rule. I want someone who my country can talk to and uh, right now it, it sounds like it will never happen . . .
. . . I try to concentrate on not falling to the revenge—that we feel like we want to [take] revenge. I'm trying not to focus on that, ‘cuz it's not healthy. It's not going to help my kids. Nowhere is safe in the world like Israel. Israel is the safest place for Jews. That's what I believe.
Her daughter was to depart for a class trip to Poland in a
few days. Now, says her mother, Ola
Metzger, the 17-year-old girl won’t need to visit Auschwitz, a rite of
passage for Israeli students. She won’t need an experiential history lesson on
the Holocaust—the girl won’t need it, because she just went through one, a true
Holocaust, right in her home on Kibbutz Nir Oz, so perilously close to Gaza. Ola,
45, used to believe that if we would only alleviate the suffering of the common
people of Gaza, peace would reign.
What Ola learned on October 7, was that peace is not a value
for them. Material wealth is also not so important to them. What is important
to them is their hate. For her, the eye-opener was the destruction, burning
cars, homes, people. They already, had already looted and taken what they wanted,
money, everything, and still it did not satisfy the lust, because the lust is
not for things. The lust is for torturing and murdering Jews [emphasis added].
I told her to hide under the bed because bad guys were out there shooting all, all over, all around, and all I was thinking [was], “What happens if they get in?”
I can't believe that these actions are real actions to aim to free Palestine from someone. I always felt that these people are being hostages you know, of their own regime, and uh, we always felt that if they will be okay, if these people will have something to lose, you know, I mean something to lose, I mean if they have a regular, or more or less regular life and homes and work and you know, money coming in, and uh, food for their kids . . . if they will be okay we will be okay, too.
It's very hard to say that I hate someone, but I don't trust any, anyone now. I, I don't trust them. I can't. We lost so many people, you know, one out of four in our kibbutz . . .
Um, it was [scary]. I was scared. I was scared and then sad you know, later on, because how much hate do you have to have? Okay. So you, okay . . . you came in, you took all the jewelry and you know, and the money, and the computers and TVs, and whatever, and then you just, you just have to like ruin everything?
Irit Lahav,
a 57-year-old peace activist from Kibbutz Nir Oz, sustained a serious shock on
October 7. It was then that Lahav realized that the people of Gaza were not
like her, not like normal human beings. Their behavior, well, they do things
Lahav would never dream of doing to anyone, even her most mortal enemy. The
smaller deeds of October 7, even, would be beyond her. She could not have
stolen a wallet, a bike, or a person’s shoes, let alone perpetrate such brutal
acts of violence.
On that day, a border was crossed, all boundaries and norms
of behavior breached. Now the ardent peacenik is no more. Now it is us and “them”
[emphasis added]:
In 2005, when Israel moved out of Gaza, I was very happy. I thought this, this, is the right thing to do, and I was shocked that 2 months later, they threw bombs, missiles, at us. What, what the heck is going on? They just received what they wanted. Why, why is this going on?
Generally speaking, everybody from the kibbutz is very left-minded. I would say even 100% of the people would really respect the Palestinians and wish really good things for them and never want to hurt them or do anything bad toward them. I always saw that they have an equal right like we do, to have their own country—to be happy, to live peaceful, to be prosperous.
I also volunteered. I would drive the Palestinians who are very sick, from the border to get treated in Israeli hospitals. Am I thinking about myself being foolish until now? Maybe. Maybe. But more is that I'm disappointed at them that they are so cruel, have no values—really lost their human values.
There is no “Hamas” anymore for me. There is the Palestinian nation. They are responsible for that, and I think Israel should [let go] this concept of Hamas being the important people. No. The whole community has invaded and were brutal and violent.
I think about myself. Would I go to somebody’s house and rob it and steal their shoes and bicycles and wallets? And no. I wouldn't. Even if he is my enemy. Even if it's someone that I don't agree with I would not do that, and if this is not clear to them or to the world that's very sad, really.
What else can we do? What else can we do? I fight for the peace. We step out from their land. We respect them, you know, and this is what is going on. Slaughter. Slaughter back.
No. Too much.
[1] “Israel-Hamas
war: Did Oct. 7 change Israeli left-wing views on peace?” Ariella Marsden, Jerusalem
Post, November 24, 2023
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