October 7th changed Israel and the Jewish world, but do we understand the depths of this change? We have 350,000 reservists in the IDF, and over 130 hostages held in conditions none of us want to imagine. We have another 200,000 displaced Israelis from the north and the south living in hotels, sometimes with families of four or five people in hotel rooms intended to accommodate two or three people. 

In November I joined a UJIA solidarity group of trustees and loyal supporters. We met people whose strength and resilience are humbling – and we went to places I cannot adequately describe.

First, we met Perach. She is seventy-seven years old and was born in Hungary just after the Second World War. Her parents were Holocaust survivors who chose to return to Hungary after the war.  She explained that in 1956, when the Russians invaded Hungary, the local people started attacking the Jews, which perhaps says more about those Hungarians than about the Russians. After this, Perach moved to Israel to be safe. 

The soldiers who helped her could not believe anyone had come out
alive from the devastation.

When the sirens sounded early on October 7th, she grabbed half a bottle of water as she rushed to her safe room and described how she had a lock on the inside of her safe room that she closed. The terrorists came into her house and were trying to open the door, but thankfully the lock held. They seemed to assume the room was empty and settled down to use her house as an operations centre. Perach understood she had to remain silent. This saved her life because, if the terrorists believed there was anyone in the safe room, they would have set fire to it using the gas cylinders they had brought with them from Gaza – as they did in Kibbutz Be’eri and Kibbutz Kfar Azza.

Perach’s daughter is religious, but when news of the attack on her mother’s kibbutz reached her, she knew that she must phone her mother despite the religious rule against using the phone on Shabbat. Perach was too frightened to speak on the phone in case she was overheard, so she kept exchanging WhatsApp text messages until the battery on her phone died.

Apart from the half bottle of water she had brought into the safe room, she subsisted on an open packet with broken biscuits she’d found. All she could hear was voices speaking in Arabic on the other side of her security door.

Every few hours, she would eat half a biscuit and take a sip of water. With her phone no longer working, she had no idea of the time – but she could see cracks of daylight in the morning and darkness at night.  Then she began to realise there were no sounds to be heard.  Exhausted from hunger, fear and lack of fresh air, Perach climbed onto a table, taking with her a blanket she had in the room to stay warm. She managed to reach a window high on the side wall of her safe room and somehow found the energy to open the window and to pull herself through until she fell to the ground outside, using the blanket to soften her fall. At first, she was unable to move, but eventually she summoned the strength to walk around the glass that was scattered everywhere until she reached the gate of the kibbutz. The soldiers who helped her could not believe anyone had come out alive from the devastation.  

We also met Lotan, aged 42, who told us how he hid with his three children, and how they instinctively understood to stay quiet in their safe room. Whilst they thankfully survived this ordeal, Lotan’s mother and father-in-law were murdered.

The words of both Perach and Lotan revealed strength and the determination to not look back, but to think of the future when their homes could be rebuilt and they could return to what is left of their communities in the south of Israel. But they made it clear this is only possible when they can feel confident that they can live in peace and safety 1.5 kilometers from Gaza.

They inspired us with their resilience and determination.

Next, we met Eyal and his partner, Carmi, with their baby, Niv. Carmi had been at home alone with Niv when the terrorists attacked their kibbutz. They lived in a modern house, and when the enormity of the attack became clear, they kept getting messages to close all the electric blinds and to stay quietly in the safe room. After some hours, Carmi and Eyal discussed how Carmi could escape with Niv. They managed to get together an unofficial team of ex-miltary who said they would try to cover her as she made her escape. She had to drive out of their garage (she contemplated driving through the door rather than waiting twenty or thirty seconds as it opened) to get to the gate of the kibbutz.  She and Eyal agreed that she would put Niv in front of her on the floor of the car, so that if they were attacked, Carmi would lie on her baby as a human shield. Thankfully, they came out physically unhurt.

Perach and Lotam and Carmi and Eyal will never get over their ordeals. They will learn to adjust and do their best to help the survivors - their own children, or friends or neighbours. They inspired us with their resilience and determination to go back and rebuild their lives when the IDF has made it safe for them to do so.

The following day we all travelled south to visit Kibbutz Kfar Azza. As we stopped to put on the obligatory protective vests and helmets, I sensed some apprehension. We prepared to arrive at a place where indescribable acts of death, cruelty and destruction had been inflicted on Jews because they were Jews, and this tragedy had unfolded just a few weeks earlier. For me, the most difficult idea to absorb was that this massacre had happened in Israel, where Jews are supposed to be safe.

Kibbutz Kfar Azza was a beautiful and prosperous kibbutz –and many of the people there were part of the peace movement, regularly looking to build relationships with Gazans living less than two kilometers away.

When we arrived there we were met by Major Liad Diamond. He took us to the house that belonged to Ophir Lifschitz, z’l.  Ophir was the head of the regional council and there were still banners outside promoting him for reelection at the polls, which should have taken place on October 31st.  

Ophir was murdered with his son. He wanted a better life for Israelis and their Gazan neighbours and he had been promoting his dream to build a high-tech zone at Erez which would have seen Israelis and Gazans working side by side.

Major Diamond explained to us that those houses with a C painted on the side had been cleared and that those with a C and a circle with a dot in the centre were houses in which one or more Israeli bodies had been found. 

We saw a house belonging to Sivan and Or, due to have been married this past November after being together from the age of sixteen. They were both murdered — her body was so badly burned it took weeks until she could be identified. Just as we were about to leave, her sister and friend arrived. The friend was in tears as she complained that the scene of this unspeakable crime (to us it was still a scene of carnage) had been cleaned up so you couldn’t see
what had happened.

This was not about killers who had been ready to shoot their innocent victims and move on. We were looking at scenes bespeaking far greater depravity. These killers wanted to terrorise the community and the nation, and murdering victims wasn’t enough for them.  The houses we went into were sprayed with bullets (we found a baby carriage with spent cartridges in it). The houses, especially the safe rooms where people were sheltering, were set on fire with liquid gas from cylinders brought from Gaza. This was not spontaneous, overzealous cruelty, but a carefully planned pogrom.

The scenes of devastation and destruction were overwhelming and the smell and sense of death pervasive as we bore witness to the true evil of how the terrorists burned, mutilated in indescribable ways, shot and looted.  It was difficult to comprehend how the people who committed these atrocities then sat down and ate and drank from the refrigerators of their victims.  

Major Diamond had an iPad on which he told us were photographs taken when the full horror of what happened was discovered. He said he would show us these, but only if we wished him to. No one wanted to see them, but I think there was almost a sense of duty in the group not to turn away from the true depth of horror recorded and a feeling that
seeing these photos was part of bearing witness. I will not describe these photos, but they are pictures that none of us can forget.

She wants us to go back to our different countries and to tell both the Jewish communities and the decent people in our countries what happened to her community and to her family.

As we were about to leave, we met Or. This young woman told us how her parents were both murdered and how her younger brother had hidden under his mother’s body for seven hours, completely covered in her blood. She wanted to tell us about her beautiful kibbutz that was now an apocalypse, and assured us that when the army has destroyed Hamas and made it safe to return, she would come back to Kibbutz Kfar Azza. How did she find the strength to tell us how her own family had been devastated, but she has not been broken, and that she would come back and rebuild her life and her kibbutz and make things even better? I couldn’t understand why she would want to share her tragedy with us — complete strangers— but now I understand. She wants us to go back to our different countries and to tell both the Jewish communities and the decent people in our countries what happened to her community and to her family. People must know, because this is not just Israel’s war.  To quote the late Lord Jonathan Sacks z’l, “The hate that begins with Jews never ends with Jews.” 

We must wonder if Or will be able to maintain this strength and resilience and not be overwhelmed by the enormity of what has happened to her family, her community, her home and our country.

Later that evening we met Yossi Klein Halevi, who is a senior fellow of the Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem. Rather than describe his achievements, I encourage anyone to research for themselves the gravitas and depth of learning and understanding that Yossi brings to any considered discussion of Israel and the area in which we live. Later in this piece, I incorporate some of the understanding we took from this scholar of modern Israel.  

We also met a representative from the hostage forum. The question of the hostages goes to the root of our belief in Israel as a place where Jews belong and are safe. Although I write this after the pause in the war has ended, we all understood that there would be a pause to do everything possible to bring our hostages home. No decent person could argue this imperative. This is the case even as we understand that the pause has created additional dangers to our soldiers as the war resumes – and that for every hostage brought home, at least three prisoners who have killed, attacked or endangered us have been released back into a toxic society. References in the media to Palestinian children detained usually refer to sixteen- or seventeen-year-olds accused of stabbing or throwing rocks at Israelis.

Every parent who sends his or her eighteen-year-old child to the army understands that Israel will do absolutely everything to protect and keep safe that young soldier.  It is part of the Israeli psyche that to maintain that covenant of faith between the state and the people, this trust must remain sacrosanct.

Israel has changed. The Jewish world has changed, and arguably the Western world has changed as it absorbs the reality of the threat to our democratic, liberal values.

Many Diaspora Jews who felt that Israel had become less relevant to them now understand how important Israel is to them.

No longer can we ignore the threats on our northern border. There have been skirmishes on the border with Lebanon, but we understand that if the Radwan Unit of Hezbollah attacks us, the war with them will be even more difficult, and whilst we will win, the losses could be great.

The massacre of October 7th has united Israelis and Jews around the world. Many Diaspora Jews who felt that Israel had become less relevant to them now understand how important Israel is to them, regardless of whether they wish to live here.

There is much discussion about the “day after”, the cost of those displaced, the reservists, and dealing with many other demands. We can, be immensely proud of Israel’s civil society, which has come forward in a way I believe is unimaginable in any other country. We can also be proud of the IDF, which has shown itself to be motivated,
brave and professional.

Will we win the media war? Will we win the war for the world’s public opinion? Will the #Me Too and feminist causes rally their voices in support of the Israeli women raped and sexually assaulted in the most disgusting ways? Or will it be #Me Too if you’re not a Jew?

We need to explain Israel’s position to those decent people -I believe the majority- who are being told that Israel is acting with disregard for innocent lives in Gaza. When the truth is explained, will the world understand this is a just war? There is no way to win that will not look ugly because war is ugly. Israel’s conduct of the war will be misrepresented by those who draw moral equivalences between a democratic western society and a barbaric terror organization. The IDF understands and complies with the laws of armed conflict. Colonel Richard Kemp, who was the Commander of British Armed Forces in Afghanistan, says that the IDF is the most moral army in the world.) My friends who are not Jewish also understand this. I believe the vast majority of decent British, American, Australian, and other people also understand, and can see how our most basic democratic values are under threat — with Israel on the front line.

3 December 2023.
The views expressed are my personal views and are not expressed as a trustee of UJIA.

Kibbutz Kfar Azza was a beautiful and prosperous place to live until it was changed by the barbaric massacre on October 7th, 2023. My photos below show how it is now.