Processing the events of the past 365 days, in which each second of every minute has felt like a lifetime, has been a deeply painful journey. This isn't merely an article; it's a letter to the world from a betrayed third-culture citizen, Israeli civilian, and international journalist.
The clock struck 6:29 a.m. on October 7, 2023, and in that moment, life as we knew it in Israel ceased to exist. The October 7th Massacre, a brutal attack orchestrated by Hamas, didn't just shatter our sense of safety; it obliterated it, igniting an ongoing year of war that has scorched the Israeli psyche. It was as if the very foundations of our society suddenly turned to quicksand beneath our feet.
Born in Tel Aviv to French Jewish parents of Polish and Tunisian descent, with Holocaust and labor camp survivor grandparents, my DNA is composed of trauma from unimaginable horrors and gaslighting. My journey from the multicultural expat bubble of Hong Kong to the halls of Leeds University and the London School of Economics shaped me into a global citizen. Yet, in the aftermath of October 7, I found myself acknowledging that my multicultural global network of acquaintances largely dismissed the pain experienced by Israel, and some even relished in our suffering.
The global response to the October 7 attacks wasn't just disappointing; it was a gut-punch of hypocrisy that left us reeling. While the world rightfully condemns terror elsewhere, the slaughter of Israeli civilians was met with a silence so deafening it screamed, or worse, with attempts to justify the unjustifiable under the banner of "resistance." This double standard has carved a wound in the Israeli psyche that may never fully heal.
We – Israelis, diaspora Jews, and our true allies – found ourselves forced into what seems to be an unwinnable information war. Armed only with truth against a Goliath of corporate media, celebrity influencers, and NGOs, we became reluctant Davids, fighting a tsunami of misinformation.
The world, it seemed, had lost its moral compass. From the boulevards of Paris to the streets of New York, we watched in horror as Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis found cheerleaders in the very cradles of democracy. Free speech mutated into hate speech before our eyes. What was disguised as supporting the Palestinians, was soon revealed to be an excuse to showcase posters of swastikas and Stars of David tossed into trash bins.
This hysteria seemed to unite disparate groups – from "Queers for Palestine" to woke activists (as a liberal member of the LGBTQ community myself, this was a slap in the face), from the uneducated to the educated, from the left to the right, and Islamists. It was as if a 1930s-style mass delusion had gripped the world, with an unlikely coalition forming to target Jews and Zionists, distorting and gaslighting every aspect of this conflict from the moment Hamas struck.
Hamas (and other Iranian proxies) didn't just violate borders and break a ceasefire; they orchestrated a campaign of terror against civilians and young conscripts. Israelis are not GI-Joes, but 18 to 21-year-olds fulfilling their mandatory service, or reservists mothers and fathers, defending their homes and families. Unlike distant military interventions, these Israelis were protecting their own soil, their own people.
And suddenly, in a perverse twist of logic, Israel found itself accused of genocide. As we painstakingly counted our 1,200 dead, unverified numbers of Gaza casualties ballooned, with no distinction made between civilians and the thousands of Hamas terrorists. The implication that Israel would willfully target women and children isn't just false; it's a blood libel for the 21st century.
The manipulation of facts turned the world into a raging bull against Israel. Logic seemed to evaporate as people ignored Israel's efforts to minimize civilian casualties – efforts unprecedented in the history of warfare. We sent hundreds of humanitarian trucks into Gaza, an act of compassion for an enclave that had just savaged us. We treat terrorists in our hospitals while Hamas uses its own people as human shields, stealing aid and leaving civilians to suffer.
As a journalist, I found myself in the surreal position of reporting on a war that had made me its victim. How does one maintain objectivity when trauma is not just witnessed but lived? The devastation I've seen – a mother's eyes haunted by the loss of her entire family, the ghostly silence of northern villages once vibrant with life, the unimaginable torture hostages and their families are still suffering – these are not just stories I've covered, but scars I now carry.
Why couldn't every so-called advocate of human rights around the world call for the immediate return of the hostages, once 250, now 101 of them still trapped in captivity.
Perhaps the deepest cut has been the betrayal by those I once called friends. Decades-long relationships crumbled like sandcastles in a tsunami, washed away by a tide of indifference or outright hostility. Colleagues in the media, supposed champions of truth, became complicit in a narrative so divorced from reality it would be laughable if it weren't so dangerous.
This betrayal has forced a reckoning. I've learned that true allyship is about standing firm in the face of the storm, especially when it's unpopular or inconvenient.
The hypocrisy extends to the global community's silence on Egypt's role in the conflict. Why wasn't Egypt's border with Gaza opened as Poland's was with Ukraine? The sudden anti-Israel stance of leaders like Guterres, Macron and the UK government raises troubling questions about the influence of terror-funding nations on global politics and economics.
As we mark this somber anniversary, I call on the world to reflect on its response to the October 7 attacks and the subsequent war. The silence of allies, the manipulation of facts, and the willful blindness to Israeli suffering aren't just personal affronts – they're symptoms of a deeper malaise in our global discourse.
Yet, in the face of this global gaslighting, the Israeli spirit remains unbroken. We are the phoenix nation, rising time and again from ashes not of our own making. Our democracy, imperfect as it may be, stands as a beacon in a region where such lights are few and far between.
The personal toll has been immense. Watching friends mute, unfollow, and ignore pleas for help hasn't just been painful; it's been a chilling echo of past silences that allowed unspeakable horrors to unfold. The weaponization of anti-Israel sentiment on social media isn't just trending; it's the Ice Bucket Challenge of hate, allowing the privileged to feel righteous while drenching themselves in ignorance.
First-world, privileged Ivy League students don keffiyehs and align themselves with terrorist ideologies, exposing the unresolved guilt and self-loathing that permeates much of Western discourse on this issue. It's a stark reminder of how a world that colonized, committed genocide, and redrew global boundaries multiple times now seeks to delegitimize the one Jewish state.
In the end, Israel's story isn't just about a small nation fighting for its right to exist; it's a litmus test for humanity's capacity for truth, justice, and the courage to stand against the tide of popular opinion when that opinion is wrong. It's a story that belongs to all who believe in the right to live without fear, regardless of borders or beliefs.
As we navigate this dark chapter, I urge you to seek truth, challenge narratives, not because it's easy, but because it's right. Only then can we hope to break this cycle of violence and build a future worthy of all who call this troubled region home.
The October 7 attack and its aftermath have exposed deep-seated biases and misconceptions about Israel and the Jewish people. It has revealed the fragility of alliances and the ease with which historical traumas can be dismissed or weaponized. But it has also shown the resilience of the Israeli people who stand for truth and justice and mobilize in unity when it truly matters.
As we move forward, we must confront the uncomfortable realities this conflict has brought to light. We must challenge the narratives that seek to delegitimize Israel's right to exist and defend itself. We must hold accountable those who spread misinformation and hate.
The path ahead is not easy, but it is necessary. For in our response to this crisis lies the potential for transformation for the global community as a whole. An opportunity to reaffirm our commitment to human rights, to reject violence and terror in all its forms, and to forge a future based on mutual respect and shared humanity, and to Bring Them Home, NOW.
